University of Virginia Library

29. CHAPTER XXIX.
THE TRIAL.

THE “prosecuting attorney” (for so the State's attorney
is called in Indiana) had been sent for the
night before. Ralph refused all legal help. It was
not wise to reject counsel, but all his blood was up,
and he declared that he would not be cleared by legal
quibbles. If his innocence were not made evident to everybody,
he would rather not be acquitted on a preliminary examination.
He would go over to the circuit court and have the
matter sifted to the bottom. But he would have been pleased had
his uncle offered him counsel, though he would have declined it.
He would have felt better to have had a letter from home somewhat
different from the one he received from his Aunt Matilda
by the hand of the prosecuting attorney. It was not very encouraging
or very sympathetic, though it was very characteristic.

We never shall know what the rest of that letter was. Whenever
Aunt Matilda got to Ralph's poor, dead mother in her conversation,
Ralph ran out of the house. And now that his poor,
dead mother was again made to do service in his aunt's pious
rhetoric, he landed the letter on the hot coals before him, and
watched it vanish into smoke with a grim satisfaction.

Ralph was a little afraid of a mob. But Clifty was better than
Flat Creek, and Squire Hawkins, with all his faults, loved justice,
and had a profound respect for the majesty of the law, and a profound
respect for his own majesty when sitting as a court representing
the law. Whatever maneuvers he might resort to in business
affairs in order to avoid a conflict with his lawless neighbors,
he was courageous and inflexible on the bench. The Squire was
the better part of him. With the co-operation of the constable, he
had organized a posse of men who could be depended on to
enforce the law against a mob.

By the time the trial opened in the large school-house in Clifty at
eleven o'clock, all the surrounding country had emptied its population
into Clifty, and all Flat Creek was on hand ready to testify
to something. Those who knew the least appeared to know the
most, and were prodigal of their significant winks and nods.
Mrs. Means had always suspected him. She seed some mighty
suspicious things about him from the word go. She'd allers had
her doubts whether he was jist the thing, and ef her ole man had
axed her, liker-n not he never'd a been hired. She'd seed things
with her own livin' eyes that beat all she ever seed in all her born
days. And Pete Jones said he'd allers knowed ther warn't no

good in sech a feller. Couldn't stay abed when he got there.
And Granny Sanders said, Law's sakes! nobody'd ever a-found
him out ef it hadn't been fer her. Didn't she go all over the
neighborhood a-warnin' people? Fer her part, she seed straight
through that piece of goods. He was fond of the gals, too!
Nothing was so great a crime in her eyes as to be fond of the gals.

The constable paid unwitting tribute to William the Conqueror
by crying Squire Hawkins's court open with an Oyez! or, as he
said it, “O yes!” and the Squire asked Squire Underwood, who
came in at that minute, to sit with him. From the start, it was
evident to Ralph that the prosecuting attorney had been thoroughly
posted by Small, though, looking at that worthy's face, one
would have thought him the most disinterested and philosophical
spectator in the court-room.

Bronson, the prosecutor, was a young man, and this was
his first case since his election. He was very ambitious to distinguish
himself, very anxious to have Flat Creek influence on
his side in politics; and, consequently, he was very determined
to send Ralph Hartsook to State prison, justly or unjustly, by
fair means or foul. To his professional eyes this was not a
question of right and wrong, not a question of life or death to
such a man as Ralph. It was George H. Bronson's opportunity
to distinguish himself. And so, with many knowing and confident
nods and hints, and with much deference to the two
squires, he opened the case, affecting great indignation at Ralph's
wickedness, and uttering Delphic hints about striped pants and
shaven head, and the grating of prison-doors at Jeffersonville.

“And, now, if the court please, I am about to call a witness
whose testimony is very important indeed. Mrs. Sarah Jane
Means will please step forward and be sworn.”

This Mrs. Means did with alacrity. She had met the prosecutor,
and impressed him with her dark hints. She was sworn.

“Now, Mrs. Means, have the goodness to tell us what you
know of the robbery at the house of Peter Schroeder, and the
part defendant had in it.”

“Well, you see, I allers suspected that air young man—”

Here Squire Underwood stopped her, and told her that she
must not tell her suspicions, but facts.

“Well, it's facts I am a-going to tell,” she sniffed indignantly.
“It's facts that I mean to tell.” Here her voice rose
to a keen pitch, and she began to abuse the defendant. Again
and again the court insisted that she must tell what there
was suspicious about the school-master. At last she got it out.

“Well, fer one thing, what kind of gals did he go with?
Hey? Why, with my bound gal, Hanner, a loafin' along through
the blue-grass paster at ten o'clock, and keepin' that gal that's
got no protector but me out that a-way, and destroyin' her
character by his company, that a'n't fit fer nobody.”

Here Bronson saw that he had caught a tartar. He said he
had no more questions to ask of Mrs. Means, and that, unless
the defendant wished to cross-question her, she could stand
aside. Ralph said he would like to ask her one question.

“Did I ever go with your daughter Miranda?”

“No, you didn't,” answered the witness, with a tone and a
toss of the head that let the cat out, and set the court-room
in a giggle. Bronson saw that he was gaining nothing, and
now resolved to follow the line which Small had indicated.

Pete Jones was called, and swore point-blank that he heard
Ralph go out of the house soon after he went to bed, and
that he heard him return at two in the morning. This testimony

was given without hesitation, and made a great impression
against Ralph in the minds of the justices. Mrs. Jones, a poor,
brow-beaten woman, came on the stand in a frightened way, and
swore to the same lies as her husband. Ralph cross-questioned
her, but her part had been well learned.

There seemed now little hope for Ralph. But just at this
moment who should stride into the school-house but Pearson,
the one-legged, old-soldier basket-maker? He had crept home
the night before, “to see ef the ole woman didn't want somethin',”
and hearing of Ralph's arrest, he concluded that the time
for him to make “a forrard movement” had come, and so he
determined to face the foe.

“Looky here, Squar,” he said, wiping the perspiration from
his brow, “looky here. I jest want to say that I kin tell as
much about this case as anybody.”

“Let us hear it, then,” said Bronson, who thought he would
nail Ralph now for certain.

So, with many allusions to the time he fit at Lundy's Lane,
and some indignant remarks about the pack of thieves that
driv him off, and a passing tribute to Miss Martha Hawkins,
and sundry other digressions, in which he had to be checked,
the old man told how he'd drunk whisky at Welch's store
that night, and how Welch's whisky was all-fired mean, and
how it allers went straight to his head, and how he had got
a leetle too much, and how he had felt kyinder gin aout by
the time he got to the blacksmith's shop, an' how he had laid
down to rest, and how as he s'posed the boys had crated him,
and how he thought it war all-fired mean to crate a old soldier
what fit the Britishers, and lost his leg by one of the blamed
critters a punchin' his bagonet through it; and how when he

woke up it was all-fired cold, and how he rolled off the crate
and went on towards home, and how when he got up to the
top of Means's hill he met Pete Jones and Bill Jones, and a
slim sort of a young man, a ridin'; and how he know'd the
Joneses by ther hosses, and some more things of that kyind
about 'em; but he didn't know the slim young man, tho' he
tho't he might tell him ef he seed him agin, kase he was dressed
up so slick and town-like. But blamed ef he didn't think it
hard that a passel of thieves sech as the Joneses should try to
put ther mean things on to a man like the master, that was
so kyind to him and to Shocky, tho', fer that matter, blamed
ef he didn't think we was all selfish, akordin to his tell. Had
seed somebody that night a crossin' over the blue-grass paster.
Didn't know who in thunder 'twas, but it was somebody a
makin' straight fer Pete Jones's. Hadn't seed nobody else,
'ceptin' Dr. Small, a short ways behind the Joneses.

Hannah was now brought on the stand. She was greatly
agitated, and answered with much reluctance. Lived at Mr.
Means's. Was eighteen years of age in October. Had been
bound to Mrs. Means three years ago. Had walked home
with Mr. Hartsook that evening, and, happening to look out
of the window toward morning, she saw some one cross the
pasture. Did not know who it was. Thought it was Mr.
Hartsook. Here Mr. Bronson (evidently prompted by a suggestion
that came from what Small had overheard when he
listened in the barn) asked her if Mr. Hartsook had ever said
anything to her about the matter afterward. After some hesitation,
Hannah said that he had said that he crossed the
pasture. Of his own accord? No, she spoke of it first. Had
Mr. Hartsook offered any explanations? No, he hadn't. Had

he ever paid her any attention afterward? No. Ralph declined
to cross-question Hannah. To him she never seemed so fair
as when telling the truth so sublimely.

Bronson now informed the court that this little trick of
having the old soldier happen in, in the nick of time, wouldn't
save the prisoner at the bar from the just punishment which
an outraged law visited upon such crimes as his. He regretted
that his duty as a public prosecutor caused it to fall to his
lot to marshal the evidence that was to blight the prospects
and blast the character, and annihilate for ever, so able and
promising a young man, but that the law knew no difference
between the educated and the uneducated, and that for his
part he thought Hartsook a most dangerous foe to the peace
of society. The evidence already given fastened suspicion
upon him. The prisoner had not yet been able to break its
force at all. The prisoner had not even dared to try to explain
the reason for his being out at night to a young lady. He
would now conclude by giving the last touch to the dark
evidence that would sink the once fair name of Ralph Hartsook
in a hundred fathoms of infamy. He would ask that
Henry Banta be called.

Hank came forward sheepishly, and was sworn. Lived about a
hundred yards from the house that was robbed. He seen ole
man Pearson and the master and one other feller that he didn't
know come away from there together about one o'clock. He
heerd the horses kickin', and went out to the stable to see
about them. He seed two men come out of Schroeder's back-door
and meet one man standing at the gate. When they
got closter he knowed Pearson by his wooden leg and the
master by his hat. On cross-examination he was a little confused

when asked why he hadn't told of it before, but said
that he was afraid to say much, bekase the folks was a talkin'
about hanging the master, and he didn't want no lynchin'.

The prosecution here rested, Bronson maintaining that there
was enough evidence to justify Ralph's committal to await
trial. But the court thought that as the defendant had no
counsel and offered no rebutting testimony, it would be only
fair to hear what the prisoner had to say in his own defense.

All this while poor Ralph was looking about the room for
Bud. Bud's actions had of late been strangely contradictory.
But had he turned coward and deserted his friend? Why else
did he avoid the session of the court? After asking himself
such questions as these, Ralph would wonder at his own folly.
What could Bud do if he were there? There was no human
power that could prevent the victim of so vile a conspiracy as
this, lodging in that worst of State prisons at Jeffersonville, a
place too bad for criminals. But when there is no human
power to help, how naturally does the human mind look for
some intervention of God on the side of Right! And Ralph's
faith in Providence looked in the direction of Bud. But since
no Bud came, he shut down the valves and rose to his feet,
proudly, defiantly, fiercely calm.

“It's of no use for me to say anything. Peter Jones has
sworn to a deliberate falsehood, and he knows it. He has
made his wife perjure her poor soul that she dare not call her
own.” Here Pete's fists clenched, but Ralph in his present
humor did not care for mobs. The spirit of the bull-dog had
complete possession of him. “It is of no use for me to tell
you that Henry Banta has sworn to a lie, partly to revenge
himself on me for sundry punishments I have given him, and

partly, perhaps, for money. The real thieves are in this court-room.
I could put my finger on them.”

“To be sure,” responded the old basket-maker. Ralph looked
at Pete Jones, then at Small. The fiercely calm look attracted
the attention of the people. He knew that this look would
probably cost him his life before the next morning. But he did
not care for life. “The testimony of Miss Hannah Thomson is
every word true. I believe that of Mr. Pearson to be true. The
rest is false. But I can not prove it. I know the men I have
to deal with. I shall not escape with State prison. They will
not spare my life. But the people of Clifty will one day find
out who are the thieves.” Ralph then proceeded to tell how he
had left Pete Jones's, Mr. Jones's bed being uncomfortable;
how he had walked through the pasture; how he had seen
three men on horseback; how he had noticed the sorrel with
the white left forefoot and white nose; how he had seen Dr.
Small; how, after his return, he had heard some one enter the
house, and how he had recognized the horse the next morning.
“There,” said Ralph desperately, leveling his finger at Pete,
“there is a man who will yet see the inside of a penitentiary.
I shall not live to see it, but the rest of you will.” Pete
quailed. Ralph's speech could not of course break the force of
the testimony against him. But it had its effect, and it had
effect enough to alarm Bronson, who rose and said:

“I should like to ask the prisoner at the bar one question.”

“Ask me a dozen,” said Hartsook, looking more like a king
than a criminal.

“Well, then, Mr. Hartsook. You need not answer unless you
choose; but what prompted you to take the direction you did in
your walk on that evening?”

This shot brought Ralph down. To answer this question
truly would attach to friendless Hannah Thomson some of the
disgrace that now belonged to him.

“I decline to answer,” said Ralph.

“Of course, I do not want the prisoner to criminate himself,”
said Bronson significantly.

During this last passage Bud had come in, but, to Ralph's disappointment
he remained near the door, talking to Walter
Johnson, who had come with him. The magistrates put their
heads together to fix the amount of bail, and, as they differed,
talked for some minutes. Small now for the first time thought
best to make a move in his own proper person. He could
hardly have been afraid of Ralph's acquittal. He may have been
a little anxious at the manner in which he had been mentioned,
and at the significant look of Ralph, and he probably meant to
excite indignation enough against the school-master to break the
force of his speech, and secure the lynching of the prisoner,
chiefly by people outside his gang. He rose, and asked the court
in gentlest tones to hear him. He had no personal interest in
this trial, except his interest in the welfare of his old schoolmate,
Mr. Hartsook. He was grieved and disappointed to find
the evidence against him so damaging, and he would not for the
world add a feather to it, if it were not that his own name had
been twice alluded to by the defendant, and by his friend, and
perhaps his confederate, John Pearson. He was prepared to
swear that he was not over in Flat Creek the night of the
robbery later than ten o'clock, and while the statements of the
two persons alluded to, whether maliciously intended or not,
could not implicate him at all, he thought perhaps this lack
of veracity in their statements might be of weight in determining

some other points. He therefore suggested — he could
only suggest, as he was not a party to the case in any way—that
his student, Mr. Walter Johnson, be called to testify as to his—
Dr. Small's — exact whereabouts on the night in question.
They were together in his office until two, when he went to
the tavern and went to bed.

Squire Hawkins, having adjusted his teeth, his wig, and his
glass eye, thanked Dr. Small for a suggestion so valuable, and
thought best to put John Pearson under arrest before proceeding
further. Mr. Pearson was therefore arrested, and was heard to
mutter something about a “passel of thieves,” when the court
warned him to be quiet.

Walter Johnson was then called. But before giving his testimony,
I must crave the reader's patience while I go back to some
things which happened nearly a week before, and which will
serve to make it intelligible.