University of Virginia Library

25. XXV.
JUSTICE PELT AND THE PRISONER.

THE young man whipping his horse so smartly
down the road is Abner, hastening with his
note-book to rejoice the heart of Elphaz, and to
earn the lasting gratitude of Colonel Bannington.

Luckily, Elphaz is a justice of the peace. Luckily, Aaron
Burble is a constable. Before night, a warrant is out for the
arrest of Madison. But the question arises, How to catch
him? The rogue can run like a deer; while Aaron, though
a man of mighty muscle, is not fleet of foot: and, after two
days' unsuccessful endeavors to effect the capture, the question
still remains to be solved.

The elder Biddikin is in great distress for his son's safety,
and watches by day, and lies awake nights, and abuses the
constable. But Mad thinks it fun to dodge an officer; and,
trusting to his cunning and his heels, even ventures to show
himself in the village whilst Aaron is looking for him on the
mountain.

To enhance the sport, he addresses a note to Sophy, inviting

her to meet him at evening by the mill-pond. He drops
it himself in the post-office. Mrs. Pinworth takes it out;
recognizes the superscriber; opens it on the spot, and carries
it straight, not to Sophy, but to Elphaz Pelt.

Not being in her daughter's confidence, how could the
excellent woman know the danger of betraying one who held
in his possession secrets, which, if he divulged them, might be
fatal to Sophy's matrimonial prospects?

The lawyer looked grim. “Is she still in communication
with that villain?” — both eyes sparkling, one at the letter,
the other at the widow.

“My daughter,” said the Pinworth relict with precise
dignity, “has too much respect for herself, Squire Pelt! I
wish you could have seen her indignation when she read that
letter! She thought you ought to be made aware of his
designs at once.”

Elphaz had been cool towards Sophy since the night of the
ride; but this maidenly proof of her fidelity to him revived his
confidence and rekindled his ardor. His spirits rose as he
re-read the letter and formed his plans.

Meanwhile the widow hastened to bring forward events
which she had got considerably the start of in her narrative;
and Sophy was made aware at the same moment of the existence
of Mad's note, and of its delivery into his enemy's
hands.

“O ma!” exclaimed the astonished and incensed young
lady, “what a goose you are! Mad will think I did it; and
he'll be the ruination of me!”

“Why, Sophy, I meant it all for the best! What can he
do” —

“You're a goose! and that's all there is about it!” said
the dove.

And they fell to pecking each other spitefully, until the
eagle arrived; when straightway they began to coo softly, and
the younger presented her amiable bill to the beak of the
royal bird.

“A pleasant little billet-ducks you received this morning,
Sophy.”

“That impudent letter, Mr. Pelt! I'll teach him to write
me such things!”

“You did well to send it to me, my dear.”

“To whom should I refer such things but to my protector?”
And the dove nestled fondly in the eagle's bosom.

His errand was to borrow a little of her plumage; namely,
a bonnet and shawl. She could not refuse to lend them; but,
as soon as he was gone, she hurriedly penned a billet to Mad,
telling him what had occurred, excusing herself, and warning
him not to come that evening to the pond-side. But how get
the note to him? It was impossible; and, an hour after it
was written, she burnt it in despair. Evening came, and
Mad came with it to the pond-side. It was just at dusk. The
pond was unruffled. Cool and still stood the trees in the
twilight over the water; cool and still hung their images in
the glassy liquid below. But the beauty of the evening had
few charms for Mad's heated brain. He saw a girlish form

walking by some bushes on the shore, and stole near enough
to recognize Sophy's bonnet and shawl. He advanced
quickly, uttered a gleeful laugh, and threw his arms affectionately
about the waist of — Ann Maria Burble!

He was lifting her veil to kiss her; when out of the bushes
stepped Aaron, and laid a hand on his shoulder, with a
quiet — “I want you, young man.”

Mad was stunned for an instant. He looked at Aaron;
he knew Ann Maria; he saw himself betrayed, a prisoner;
but only for an instant.

“No, you don't!” he ejaculated, as with a sudden wrench
he freed his shoulder. He made a lunge at the bushes. There
he ran into the ambushed arms of Elphaz and Abner. Wheeling
again, he dodged low, as Aaron swooped to catch him,
fell, and flopped into the water like a fish.

He was an accomplished swimmer, and might quickly have
crossed the pond, but that natation was impeded by a hand
holding his coat-tail. As he struck boldly out, Aaron gently
pulled him back. Then, slipping off his coat, he left it in
the constable's hands, and made a headlong plunge. But it
was diving under difficulties: for now Abner had him by the
legs; and now Aaron had him by the nape of the neck; and
now Elphaz whipped out of his pocket a cord to bind him.
After a brief struggle, the valiant youth was conquered,
and marched into the village with his hands tied behind him,
swearing, and very wet.

After a night passed in a strong room of the town-house,

the prisoner was brought before Squire Pelt. The lawyer's
office — styled a court-room on such occasions — was thronged
by spectators; every loafer in the village pressing in to see
the sport. In the midst of the coarse-featured group appeared
the little doctor, trembling not only for his son's
safety, perhaps, but also, it may be, thinking of himself standing
there a prisoner, in more terrible peril.

The original charges against Mad, of cruelty to his father,
and of threatening with violence those who interfered to protect
the old man's life, were duly sworn to by Abner, and
corroborated by Job and the reluctant doctor himself. To
these were now added the more serious one of forcibly resisting
an officer of the law. The old man could only groan,
and shake his head, at the incontrovertible evidence. But
the pettifogger who managed the defence whispered to him
to be of good cheer: he had found a flaw in the warrant,
which would quash the proceedings.

He rose to his feet, — a lantern-jawed individual, with rabbit's
eyes and cunning-looking teeth, — and demanded in a
shrill voice, —

“Who is Eliphaz Pelt?” He glanced round the room,
and, fixing his eyes on the justice, repeated energetically,
“Who is El-i-phaz Pelt?”

“It is the court whose name you are handling; and I advise
you, Mr. Jinket, to mind what you are about,” said the
justice.

“I think it can be shown, sir, that it is not your name, —

with all due respect to the court,” replied Jinket. “It can
be shown that you have heretofore written your name Elphaz;
that it is painted on the shingle at the door, Elphaz; that you
are everywhere known as Elphaz: whereas this instrument
is signed by Eliphaz Pelt, and is consequently an illegal
document. I therefore demand my client's immediate discharge;
and hereby give notice of intention to institute immediate
proceedings for the prosecution of parties for the false
imprisonment of — my client,” said Jinket, sitting down
amid a general rustle of excitement caused by this eloquent
speech.

All eyes turned on Pelt, who was fiery-red. The truth is,
that the learned lawyer came from a low and ignorant family,
and had grown up in the belief that his name was Elphaz;
nor had he until recently stumbled on the name Eliphaz in
Holy Writ, and adopted the biblical orthography. Hence his
sensitiveness.

“I am not responsible for the blunder of a sign-painter,”
he answered, “nor for the stupidity of those that can't read
writing. My name is Eliphaz in my commission; it was Eliphaz
on the ticket that elected me to this office; and I
guess” — riddling Jinket with sharp glances — “that settles
the matter.”

The pettifogger was silenced. Biddikin uttered a groan
of despair. And now Mad, who up to this time had taken
his friends' advice and held his peace, expressing his hatred

of Pelt merely by the murderous glare of his eyes and the
menacing one-sided protrusion of his chin, broke silence.

“Who cares whether it's El- or El-lie-phaz? He'll lie fast
enough, any way!”

“'Sh! 'sh!” whispered the frightened doctor. But the
laughter of the bystanders encouraged the youth's malevolent
wit.

“The difference is all in his i! You see, his father and
mother never was very partic'lar 'bout the eyes in their family!”
Which direct allusion to Pelt's obliquity of vision
filled the room with an uproar of mirth.

“Constable, keep order!” shouted the justice angrily.
“The prisoner is fined nine shillings for contempt of court.”

“Fine away, you little finger of Satan!” roared Mad,
clinching his fist. “My opinion of you has always been that
of a darned rascal.”

As the prisoner lost his temper, the justice regained his.
And now the slight grammatical confusion which marred the
beauty of this last speech afforded an opportunity to make a
neat retort.

“Nobody doubts, sir, but all your opinions may be those
of a profane rascal; but, for the contemptuous expression of
them to this court, you are hereby fined five dollars in addition
to your previous fine. And, owing to the aggravated
circumstances of the case, I do not feel authorized to decide
in the matter myself by letting you off with a light punishment,

as I could have wished; but i am compelled,” the
magistrate continued with affected, ironical kindness, “reluctantly
compelled, to bind you over.”

The prisoner was accordingly held to answer the charges
against him before a higher tribunal. After some discussion,
his bail was fixed at three hundred dollars; in default of
which, he was committed to the county jail. Then all the
evil fire in him blazed up. He declared with an oath that
he would make Pelt look six ways for Sunday as soon as he
could get at his eyes, and attempted to execute his menace on
the spot: an act of violence which had no other effect than
to tighten Aaron's hold on him, and to raise his bonds from
three hundred dollars to six hundred. As responsible recognizances
to that amount could not be easily obtained, — Doctor
Biddikin's offer to bail his son being rejected amid general
laughter, — nothing was left but for Madison to go to
jail.

“Hurrah for jail, then!” he cried recklessly; “but
take care!” still threatening the magistrate with eye and fist
and tongue as he was hurried away by the constable.

“It is manifest malice and injustice!” exclaimed the doctor,
“that I, worth probably the largest fortune in the State,
should be refused the privilege of bailing my son! Don't
you think so, Mr. Jinket?”

Jinket showed his teeth with a grimace and nod, significant
of mysterious resources of legal knowledge, but did not
commit himself in words.

And now the doctor might have been seen parting with his
son, embracing him with tears, and appealing pathetically to
the crowd for bail, until the wagon came which was to convey
the prisoner to his new lodgings in the stone edifice with iron-barred
windows, nine long miles from his father's house.