Part 47 (2/2)

The judge seemed to understand. He nodded encouragingly and smiled.

”Do you recall the morning after your arrival at the home of Isom Chase to begin your service there, when you threatened to kill him?” asked the prosecutor.

”I do recall that morning,” admitted Joe; ”but I don't feel that it's fair to hold me to account for words spoken in sudden anger and under trying circ.u.mstances. A young person, you know, sir”--addressing the judge--”oftentimes says things he don't mean, and is sorry for the next minute. You know how hot the blood of youth is, sir, and how it drives a person to say more than he means sometimes.”

”Now, your honor, this defendant has counsel to plead for him at the proper time,” complained the prosecutor, ”and I demand that he confine himself to answering my questions without comment.”

”Let the witness explain in his own way,” said the judge, who probably felt that this concession, at least, was due a man on trial for his life. There was a finality in his words which did not admit of dispute, and the prosecuting attorney was wise enough not to attempt it.

”You threatened to kill Isom Chase that morning when he laid hands on you and pulled you out of bed. Your words were, as you have heard Mrs.

Chase testify under oath in that very chair where you now sit, 'If you hit me, I'll kill you in your tracks!' Those were your words, were they not?”

”I expect I said something like that--I don't just remember the exact words now--but that was what I wanted him to understand. I don't think I'd have hurt him very much, though, and I couldn't have killed him, because I wasn't armed. It was a hot-blooded threat, that's all it was.”

”You didn't ordinarily pack a gun around with you, then?”

”No, sir, I never did pack a gun.”

”But you said you'd kill old Isom up there in the loft that morning, and you said it in a way that made him think you meant it. That's what you wanted him to understand, wasn't it?”

”I talked rough, but I didn't mean it--not as bad as that anyhow.”

”No, that was just a little neighborly joke, I suppose,” said the prosecutor sneeringly. He was playing for a laugh and he got it.

Captain Taylor almost skinned his knuckles rapping them down that time, although the mirth was neither general nor boisterous. Joe did not add to Lucas's comment, and he went on:

”Well, what were you doing when Isom Chase opened the door and came into the kitchen that night when he came home from serving on the jury?”

”I was standing by the table,” said Joe.

”With your hat in your hand, or on your head, or where?”

”My hat was on the table. I usually left it there at night, so it would be handy when I came down in the morning. I threw it there when I went in, before I lit the lamp.”

”And you say that Isom opened the door, came in and said, 'I'll kill you!' Now, what did he say before that?”

”Not a word, sir,” insisted Joe.

”Who else was in that room?”

”n.o.body, sir.”

The prosecutor leaned forward, his face as red as if he struggled to lift a heavy weight.

”Do you mean to sit there and tell this jury that Isom Chase stepped right into that room and threatened to kill you without any reason, without any previous quarrel, without seeing you doing something that gave him ground for his threat?”

<script>