George Balcombe :: :: University of Virginia Library

“Why, gentlemen,” said he, “I know pretty
much all about it from first to last; but nobody
knew that I did but them that would never tell;
and I would not have been here, only I could not
bear the thoughts of a good man coming to the
gallows, when he wasn't no more to blame than a
child.”

“Well, well, sir,” said Shaler, “we want none
of your reasons or opinions; give us your facts if
you please, and as you know all about it, tell us all
about it.”

“Well, that's what I'm a going to do, stranger,
and you may as well let me do it my own way.
First and last you'll get it all, whether you like it
or no, and you won't get it no faster than it
comes.”

He then reflected a moment and went on:

“It was a Saturday morning of the great campmeeting
there near the village, I was standing
sorter out upon the edge of the crowd, about eleven
o'clock maybe, when this same Ramsay (least
ways, that's what he called his name—anyhow,
the man that was killed that night) he comes along
by me. And he stands and studies a while, and
then says he,

“`Ain't your name Sam Todd?'

“`I passes for him,' says I.

“`Well,' says he, `I want to speak with you.'

“So with that we walks out, and says he,

“`What I want to speak to you about is another
man's business, and he told me about you, and told
me to find you, and for us to go to him together.'

“`Who is he?' says I.

“`I'm a stranger in these parts,' says he, `and
I cannot say I know his name; only I have seen
him here mighty busy, and mighty great among
the preachers, ever since the meeting began.'

“`Is he here now?' says I.

“`No,' says he, `and it wasn't here we were to
meet; but if you'll go with me, I'll carry you to
the place.'

“So we started off together, and as we went I

asked him if he knew what sort of business it was.
And says he,

“`No; I can't say rightly as I do know; only
it's something in our line, sorter ruffianlike.'

“`Well,' says I, `I don't know that I have any
objection to that, so as he pays me for it well.'
'Cause you see, gentlemen, if any man gets me
into danger, and maybe into trouble, and I have to
get out of it as I can, he must pay me for it; and
if he saves his skin, why his purse must suffer.
So we goes along until we gets almost to the head
of the hollow that leads down to the Rockhouse,
and I sees a man setting upon a stump, with a
book in his hand reading mighty seriouslike. And
when we came up to him I saw it was the man I
hear them call Mr. Montague. So when we came
to where he was, he just raised his eyes from his
book, and then he looks at it again and turns down
a corner of the leaf and shuts it; and then he looks
at Ramsay and then at me, and we howd'yed; and
he looks down again and studies a while, and then
he looks at me, and says he—”

“Stop, sir, if you please,” said Shaler.

The witness did stop, but it was only to square
himself around to Shaler, on whom he looked with
a countenance of displeased surprise.

“I perceive, sir,” said Shaler, addressing the
court, “that here is to be another attempt to palm
upon us the words of this everlasting Mr. Montague
as evidence. Now, sir, as the decision of
the court upon that subject has been already expressed,

I hope the witness may be admonished
not to repeat anything that Mr. Montague said.”

I never saw Balcombe so much disconcerted as
at the cool effrontery of this objection. He remained
silent a moment, as I thought, chiding
down his impatience, and endeavouring to recover
the calm self-command which he had hitherto displayed.
Before he could accomplish this, the
judge (who doubtless considered the point as identical
with that he had already decided) had time
to rouse himself, and to drawl out to the witness,

“The court has already decided, that nothing
that Mr. Montague has said is evidence in this
case.”

As soon as he began to speak, the witness went
to the right-about and faced him, the expression of
his savage countenance changing, as he listened, to
one made up of ferocity and amazement. Whitehead,
at the same moment, sprung to his feet, bent
on the judge a look of withering scorn and indignation,
and seemed about to speak, when the calm
voice of Balcombe was heard, replying to what
had been said with this question:

“Is it the pleasure of the court to say that the
words of Montague, spoken in conversation with
the deceased, are not to be received?”

Whitehead, who had turned to Balcombe at the
sound of his voice, now again set his eye upon the
judge with an expression of derision and curiosity,
as if he would have said, “I wonder what the fool
will say to that?” The apathy of the judge

seemed to be somewhat moved by his vexation, at
being thus called to what was to him a task of
thought, and he began a sort of puzzling attempt
to say something, when the circuit attorney requested
to be heard.

I have said nothing as yet of this gentleman.
He seemed a plain, unpretending, quiet man, who
appeared to think his duty required of him nothing
more than a proper attention to the formalities of
the prosecution. What else I wish to say of him,
may be given in his own words.

“Heretofore, may it please the court,” said he,
“I have acted but a secondary part in this prosecution.
I hope my reasons have not been misunderstood.
While the testimony in this case pointed
to the accused, and to them alone, as the perpetrators
of the murder of Ramsay, it was my duty
to accept of any aid in furtherance of the prosecution.
I was therefore glad to avail myself of the
distinguished abilities of the gentleman, who has
been employed, as I understand, by this same Mr.
Montague, to assist in conducting it. It became
me, sir, in this state of things, to postpone myself
to him, and to permit him to take that lead in the
examination of witnesses, to which his readiness,
dexterity, and address entitled him. I saw, indeed,
but I trust I saw it without envy, that his
conspicuous display of these qualities has thrown
me quite in the shade; but I hope it will not be
imputed to me as a fault, that I have not permitted
any petty vanity of mine, or childish impatience of

his manifest superiority, to embarrass the prosecution
by interfering with him. But the aspect of
this case is suddenly changed, and I am reminded
by what I have just heard, that while I represent
the state, Mr. Shaler does but represent Mr. Montague.
He represents a man, who, for some cause
which I do not presume to inquire into, vehemently
desires the punishment of the defendants, whether
guilty or no.

“I represent the state, which desires the punishment
of the guilty only, and yet more earnestly
desires the acquittal of the innocent. Now, sir,
as the testimony now offered seems like to throw
new light upon this subject, as it may probably
show Mr. Montague to me in a light which may
change the relation of an ally into that of an antagonist,
by making it my duty to prosecute him for
this or some other offence, and as I have no doubt
that the testimony offered is not only such as the
law permits, but requires, I find it my duty to
withdraw the objection to it, made by my friend
Mr. Shaler. My right to do so, sir, he will not
question. He will see that the alliance between
myself as the representative of the state and him
as the representative of Mr. Montague, must terminate.
If, on his own behalf, as a friend of justice,
as a curious and skilful investigator of truth,
he feels at liberty to give me his aid in unravelling
this mystery, such aid, guided and controlled by
his own sense of honour and love of virtue, I will

thankfully receive. His further co-operation as
counsel for Mr. Montague I must reject.”

Shaler now said, in a few words, that the right
of the circuit attorney to disclaim his further interference
as an ally was unquestionable. “As to
interfering in any other character,” continued he,
“I have no call to do it. I am functus officio. I
am here by contract to prosecute, not to defend.
Should a further investigation of this matter implicate
Mr. Montague, that will be a new case,
and the subject of a new bargain. As to aiding
the circuit attorney in the further investigation of
the case, as an individual, though no man likes to
work at his trade without wages, I would gladly
do so, were it necessary. But, sir, that gentleman
needs no aid; and if he did, I much mistake if he
should ask any more efficient than he has. Let
him give Mr. Balcombe a fair field and a clear sky,
unembarrassed by technical quibbles, and my life
upon it he will get at the whole truth.”

He sat down, and the witness was directed to
proceed.

“I suppose,” said he, “I am to tell all about it.”

“Oh yes,” said the circuit attorney; “tell all.”

“It's well you give me leave,” said the witness,
“because I came here to do it, and flesh and blood
should not have kept me from it. Well, I believe
that gentleman stopped me, the minute I began to
talk about what Montague said; so there's where
I left off. Well, says he, `Is your name Samuel
Todd?' So I told him it was.

“`Well,' says he, `I have heard of you, and you
are the sort of man I want.'

“Says I, `It depends upon your business,' says
I, `whether I'll suit you or no, 'cause I hain't got
no book larning.'

“`No,' says he, `but you are a brave man.'

“`If any man disputes that,' says I, `maybe he'd
better try me.'

“`Well,' says he, `a brave man is the sort I
want.'

“So, gentlemen, he goes on and tells us that he
had a tract of land in Virginia, and there was a
fellow that had got hold of the deed, and would not
let him have it, and there was another that backed
him in it; and they wanted to make him pay four
thousand dollars, I think it was, before they'd give
it up. So he said he had seen them and agreed to
pay the money, and they had appointed to meet
him at that same place about sunset, and he was
to give them his bond for the money, and they were
to give him the deed.

“`So,' says he, `what I want is for you two to
be lying about here, and to hide yourselves, and
after you see me get the deed I want you to creep
up, and seize them, and keep them until I can get
away.'

“`Oh,' says I, `that's easy done.'

“`And more than that,' says he, `I cannot start
to Virginia before Monday,' (that was Saturday,
you see, gentlemen,) `and if I don't get at least a
week's start of them, they'll be after me, and put

me to trouble before I can get the deed recorded.
So,' says he, `I want them kept somewhere out of
the way for a week or ten days.'

“`Well,' says I, `I think we can manage that
matter handy too. Because,' says I, `here's the
Rockhouse right down here on the river bank, and
we can keep them there till we get a boat; and
then there's the mouth of the Osage most just
across the river, and we can run up that, and be
outside of the settlements before day.'

“`Well,' says he, `that will do exactly; but
I'm a thinking,' says he, `you'll want more help.'

“`That depends,' says I, `on what sort of men
they are; though I have a notion,' says I, `that
this man and I ought to be enough for any two
common men, when they wasn't a looking for us
before we got hold of them.'

“`Well,' says he, `one of them is little more
than a boy, just come from Virginia, but I know
his blood, and I reckon he's right good pluck, and
the other man is George Balcombe.'

“`That makes a difference,' says I, `'cause, you
see, Colonel Balcombe is equal to any two common
men, take him any way you will; and more
than that,' says I, `it's right hard to catch him with
both eyes shut at once.'

“`I think,' says he, `the best way will be to
have force enough to master them at once, 'cause,'
says he, `I don't want nobody to be hurt in the
scuffle.'

“`I'm mighty glad to hear that,' says I, `because

Colonel Balcombe is a good man, for all he
don't like me, and I should not like to do him any
harm.'

“And with that I sees Ramsay look right hard
at me, and then he and Montague looks at one
another, but they never said nothing, nor I neither.
So, thinks I, maybe there's more between these
fellows than they want me to know. So I speaks
up, and says I, `Maybe you are right enough, so
I'll just speak to my brother to help us,' says I,
`for he's a man I can depend on to do anything
that's got manhood in it.'

“So to make a long story short, gentlemen, he
agreed to give Ramsay and me a hundred dollars
a piece, and I was to make the best bargain I could
for him with Jim, and if nothing else would do, he
was to have a hundred dollars too. So with that
we parted, and I went one way, and he and Ramsay
went towards the campmeeting.

“So that evening, gentlemen, an hour by sun or
so, Jim and I goes there, and we looked about and
fixed ourselves to hide, and after a while here
comes Ramsay and another fellow with him. And
I did not so much like that, 'cause we three was
enough for any two men, and they had not said
nothing about nobody else, and I sorter misdoubted
that maybe they wanted to do Colonel Balcombe
some mischief. And I looked at the fellow, and
an ill-looking devil (axing the court's pardon, gentlemen)
he was.”

“Did you know him?” said the commonwealth's
attorney.

“I never seed him before, to my knowing, sir,
and he wasn't a man to forget easy; but it was the
same fellow that swore he seed Ramsay, and Colonel
Balcombe, and Mr. Scott together.”

“Was that the man?” said the commonwealth's
attorney, pointing to Johnson, who, having thoroughly
besotted himself since his examination,
had now blundered into court.

“That's the very fellow,” said Todd. “Well,
sir, he was there too, and as I said I did not much
like it, but we had not much time to talk, and then
again I thought that Jim and I, with Colonel Balcombe
to plan for us, was more than a match for
them two fellows anyhow. So I made myself
easy, and we all hid ourselves; and after a while
here comes the colonel and another man with him.
And when they got to the place, Montague he
comes from right t'other way from where we
were, and the colonel and the other man stood
right facing him, so their backs were to us.

“So when they come up, after a while the
strange man hands Montague something, and he
holds it out before him to look at it, sorter like
making a sign to us, and with that we starts and
crawls up and seizes them. And Ramsay and Jim
gets hold of the stranger, and Johnson and I gets
hold of the colonel, 'cause you see, gentlemen, our
plan was, if we saw any signs of mischief, to let go
all holds and take their part. So I holds the colonel's

arms behind him, for I did not want him to
see me, and I slips a rope round his arms, and
made a sort of half knot, and so I held on like as if
I had tied him fast, till Johnson went before him
and tied his hands. And by this time I saw that
they did not mean to hurt him, then, nohow, and
then I ties my knot too. And when we had him
fast, then Montague began, and such a saucing he
gave him you never heard. And after he had
jawed at him a spell, (and the colonel he never said
a word,) says he,

“`Boys, you know what to do with them; and,
Mr. Balcombe,' says he, `I wish you a pleasant
journey.'

“So with that, gentlemen, he goes away, and we
takes the men down the hollow towards the Rockhouse.
And when we got about halfway, we
comes to a fire at a sort of a camp where John
Keizer and some Indians had been staying, and by
this time it was almost dark, and says Ramsay,

“`Suppose we stop here a while; 'cause,' says
he, `I want to see what these fellows have got in
their pockets.'

“And so, gentlemen, I thought it wasn't no time
then to make a fuss with the fellows, and I did not
want the colonel to hear my voice; so I says nothing,
'cause, gentlemen, you see I thought after
all was done, it would not be too late to rob them
villains again; and, anyhow, what I got the colonel
could get it again, my share and Jim's too.

“So they both had some money, and the colonel

he had a pair of first-rate pistols, and a capital
dirk. So Jim and I knew the dirk and pistols, and
that the colonel had had them with him in places
where a man learns to love his fighting-irons; and
I seed the picture was a mighty pretty girl, and I
thought the boy would hate to lose that; so I takes
the picture and one pistol for my share, and Jim he
takes the other and the dirk for his, and we let the
other fellows have the money. And after that was
done, we went along down to the Rockhouse, and
Jim he starts off a little way down the river for a
boat, and the rest of us staid there.

“So we sets down pretty close to the rock, and
the colonel was next to me, and the young man
next to him, and the others were the other side;
for you see, gentlemen, I chose to keep near the
colonel for fear.

“So we had not been there long before we hears
a whistle like a rifleman's whistle, and I guessed
that minute it was John Keizer and his Indians.
And I knew they wasn't men to fool with, and I
did not want to hurt nobody, especially John; and
so, gentlemen, I just determined if they fell in with
us to clear out and be off. But before I had time
to think as much, the colonel he blows his whistle,
and with that here they come with a right Indian
warwhoop. So I was next to them, and as I seed
them coming along the wall, I could have stopped
one of them mighty easy with a bullet; but I did
not want to do that. So I jumps from the wall
and halloos to the others to run, and with that they

jumps out too. So I just stopped to listen a minute,
for all was dark there, and I heard the cocking of
rifles and setting of triggers, and I jumped down
the bank. And Ramsay he made a stop, and says
he, `Stand your ground, men,' and that minute a
rifle went off. And Ramsay was a top the bank
right over me, where I could see him right plain
against the sky, and he had his rifle pointed in
under the rock, when the other went off and down
he came.

“So by this time the thing was pretty well over,
and I went off and crossed the branch, and lay by
till I heard them throw the dead man in the river;
and then the colonel and them went off, and after
a while Jim comes along with the boat, and I hails
him and tells him about it. So he carried the boat
back, and then I went to look for Montague to tell
him. So I knew where he staid, and I went there,
but all was dark, and he wasn't there. So I
stopped a while, and presently I hears him coming
along talking, and John Keizer with him. So I
guessed by that he knew all about it, and that we
wasn't to blame. So John Keizer he goes away,
and Montague he goes in the house in the dark.
Then I goes to the door and knocks, and he asked
who was there, mighty scaredlike; and I tells him,
and he lets me in. So there we sot a talking in
the dark, and I tells him all, and how Ramsay was
killed and thrown in the river. And when he
heard that, he started up, and said something I did

not hear rightly, and then he sets down agin and
considers. So after a while says he,

“`Did you rob them men?'

“`That's none of your business,' says I.

“`Yes it is,' says he; `because if you have got
anything of theirs about you, I'll give you any
money for it.'

“`You'd better pay me,' says I, `what you owe
me already.'

“`And so I would,' says he, mighty civillike,
`but I cannot tell one bank note from another here
in the dark.'

“`It's mighty easy to get a light from the
kitchen,' says I.

“So, with that, he goes to the kitchen and fetches
a light, and then he pays me a hundred dollars,
and says he,

“`Now, here's another hundred; and let me see
what you have got to give me for it.'

“So I showed him the pistol and picture; and
as soon as he saw the picture, gentlemen, he started
and dropped it on the table, and he clapped his
hands to his head and walked across the room,
and such a groan as he gave I don't reckon nobody
ever heard, unless they have seen a man shot down
and scalped before he was dead. And then he
comes back and sits down, and leans his head upon
his hands, and he was pale and gashly-like, and his
eyes glassy like as if he was dead. After a while
he comes to himself, and says he,

“`Now, here's another hundred dollars for you,

if you'll take these things down to the Rockhouse
and leave them there.'

“`What's that for?' says I.

“`Why,' says he, `they'll be found there, and
the blood and all, and then them men will be taken
up, and I can get away to Virginia and they cannot
follow me.'

“`But,' says I, `I don't want to bring Colonel
Balcombe into any trouble.'

“`He won't be in any danger,' says he, `because
you can keep out of the way, and your brother and
that other man, and the dead body's gone, and
they'll only just think it something strange, and
they'll be just taken up, but nobody can hurt them;
and more than that,' said he, `they'll get their things
again.'

“`Well,' says I, `if that's to be all, I have no
objection, and Jim and I can go out a hunting, and
take that other fellow with us.'

“So, with that I left him and went straight to the
Rockhouse, and there I left the pistol and picture as
I had promised, and I saw that the body was gone
sure enough, so that I felt right easy in my mind
about the colonel. Then, next day, Jim and I got
ready to go out and take our fall hunt, and we
hunted up Johnson, but the fellow was drunk, and
such a beast we could not make him understand
anything; and then I thought nobody would ever
mind a word he'd say, and besides, he would not
want to talk about it. So we concluded there was
no danger, and we went off away out on the heads

of the Osage; and after a while Keizer comes to
us, and so one night, sitting down at the camp fire,
says he to me—”

“It is not proper,” said the circuit attorney, “to
repeat what he said.”

“Why, I just wanted,” said Todd, “to tell how
I come to come in.”

“I suppose,” said the circuit attorney, “you
mean to say you came in in consequence of what
he told you.”

“To be sure,” said Todd; “that's it.”

“That is enough,” said the attorney, “without
telling what it was.”

“Ah! well,” said Todd, “I suppose it makes no
such mighty odds, for I reckon you have heard
enough, and you have got the truth this time, anyhow.”