The Calico Cat
Cat standing alert facing forward.]
VI
"Peaslee, where were you when that shot was fired?" askedFarnsworth, and as he spoke he turned and looked toward Solomon,whose seat was some three or four places to his left, on the sameside of the table.
Had the question not been uttered, it would have died upon hislips, so much surprised was he at what he saw.
Mr. Peaslee, white and trembling with some strong emotion, had hishands upon the table and was raising himself, slowly and painfully,to his feet. He rolled his eyes, which looked bigger and morepathetic than ever behind his glasses, toward Farnsworth at thesound of his voice, but the young man knew instinctively thatSolomon, moved by some strong idea of his own, had not grasped thequestion.
"Gentlemen," Mr. Peaslee began, in shaky tones, "I guess I got aword to say afore ye find a true bill agin that little feller. He'sas peaceable a boy as ever I saw, and I guess I can't let him stayall bolted and barred into no jail, when it don't need anythin' butmy say-so to get him out. Ye see, gentlemen,"--Solomon paused,moistened his dry mouth, and cast a timorous look over the puzzledfaces of the jurymen,--"ye see, 't was me that shot Lamoury."
Not a sound came from the grand jury; the members sat and stared athim in blank wonder, hardly able to credit their ears. Paige, thestate's attorney, who was making some notes at the time, held hispen for a good half-minute part way between his paper and theinkstand while he gazed in astonishment at Peaslee. To have a grandjuror, a sober, respectable man, rise in the jury-room and confessthat he is the real offender in a case under consideration, is notusual. The surprise was absolute.
For Farnsworth, it was more than a surprise; it was a relief. Thenhis betrothed had been right; Jim had not fired the shot! He felt aglow of admiration for Nancy's sure intuition and loyalty to herpupil. He rejoiced that Jim was cleared for her sake and for theboy's. Insensibly he had grown more and more interested in Jim andattached to him. Now--everything was explained.
Everything? No, Jim's strange activity in concealing the evidencesof the shot, his queer reserve when questioned as to what heknew--these seemed more perplexing than ever.
Farnsworth, hoping for light upon these points, settled back in hischair to listen. Mr. Peaslee had more to say.
"It kinder goes agin the grain," Solomon resumed, with a weary,deprecatory smile, "to own up you've been actin' like a fool, but Iguess I got to do it.
"This was the way on 't: I stepped over to Ed'ards's jest to talkover matters and things. Well, I couldn't seem to raise anybody tothe front of the house, so I kinder slid into the boy's room to seeif there wasn't somebody out back. There wa'n't. There didn't seemto be anybody to home.
"Now, gentlemen, seems as though you'd see how 't was when Itell ye. There's an old white and yaller cat, with a kindersassy patch over her eye,"--Mr. Peaslee's meek voice heretook on a trace of heat,--"that's been a-pesterin' the lifeout o' me goin' on a year. I guess ye know how 't is--one ofthem pesky, yowlin', chicken-stealin', rusty old nuisancesthat hain't any sociability to 'em, anyhow.
"Well, there she was a-settin', comfortable as a hot punkin pie, andlookin' as if she owned the place. And there was the boy's gun rightthere handy. The cat riled me so, I jest loaded her up. 'T wa'n't inhuman natur' not to, now was it? 'T wa'n't nothin' but bird shot, soI sorter stuck in a marble. It couldn't do no harm, and it mightkinder help a leetle. And I just fired her off. I didn't expect tohit any French Canadian; I didn't know there was any of the crittersround.
"Then when I see a feller fall out of the bushes I was scared, now Itell ye. Here I was, member of the grand jury, and everything, andit didn't somehow seem right and fittin' for no member of the grandjury to be fillin' up a feller human bein' with bird shot an'marbles. I guess I didn't think much what I was a-doin' of, no-how.'T any rate, I jest sneaked off home, and then I jest let thingsslip along and slide along till here I be. I guess if a true bill'sgot to be found agin any one, it's got to be found agin me."
And Mr. Peaslee sank huddled and hopeless into his chair.
His fellow members were for a moment silent. But soon this tale of acat, bird shot, and an unexpected Canadian began to disclose a comicaspect; the plight of poor, respectable Mr. Peaslee, in all thefresh honors of his jurorship, began to show a ludicrous side; theirown position as grave men seeing what they thought a serious offensechange, as by magic, into a farcical accident, bit by bit revealedits humor.
Sampson, the foreman, glanced at Paige, the state's attorney. Theyoung man's face wore an odd expression. Their eyes met, andSampson's mouth began to twitch. Albion Small, who was "consid'ableof a joker," suddenly choked. Farnsworth, having revealed to him ina flash the significance of the harmonica "with harp attachment,"gave way and laughed outright.
Smiles appeared on faces all round the table; and as the comicalityof the whole affair more and more struck upon their astonishedminds, the smiles became a general laugh, the laugh a roar. Andthis mirth had so good-humored a note that Solomon, taking heart,looked about the table with a sheepish grin.
But his heart sank and his grin vanished when his eyes fell uponAbijah Keith. For Abijah did not smile. He sat grim as fate, sterndisapproval of all this levity expressed in every deep fold of hiswrinkled old countenance.
A formidable person was Abijah. He had a great brush of white hair,which stood up fiercely from his narrow forehead; a high, archednose like the beak of a hawk, on which rested a pair of huge roundspectacles; a mouth like a straight line inclosed between a greatparenthesis of leathery wrinkles. Up from under his old-fashionedstock, round a chin like a paving-stone, curled an aggressive,white, wiry beard, and his blue eyes were steel-bright and hard.
"Can't see what you're cackling so for!" he exclaimed, his shrillaccents full of contempt. "Actin' like a passel of hens! There's aman shot, ain't they? Somebody shot him, didn't they? He"--andAbijah pointed a knotted, skinny, hard old finger at the shrinkingSolomon--"he shot him, didn't he? Ser'us business, _I_ call it.Guess the grand jury's got suthin' to say to it, hain't they? Cat?Cat's foot, _I_ say. Likely story, likely story. Don't believe aword on 't."
Solomon dared to steal a look, and was not reassured to see in thejurymen's faces doubt replacing mirth. Then Hiram Hopkins's heartyvoice, ringing with opposition, struck upon his delighted ear. Heremembered Hiram's dislike for the cantankerous Keith. Here perhapswas a defender.
"Oh, come, Mr. Keith! Oh, come now!" he heard Hopkins exclaim."What's the use of raising a rumpus? It wasn't nothing but birdshot. Folks don't go murdering folks with bird shot."
"Don't care if 't was bird shot!" came Abijah's snapping tones."Don't care if 't was pin-heads; principle's the same."
"It is, it is!" admitted Solomon, in his soul.
"Well," said Hiram, with a common sense in which Mr. Peaslee tookcomfort, "the practical effect is mighty different. Gentlemen," headded to the jurors, "I can't see that we've got any call to go anyfurther with this. Peaslee was just shooting at a cat. I don't seethe sense of taking up the time of the court and makin' expense forany such foolishness. I say we'd better dismiss young Edwards'scase, and Peaslee's along with it. It's such fool doings, I thinkwe'd better, if only to keep folks from laughing at the grand jury."
Solomon's heart was in his mouth. Would the others take thisview--or Keith's?
"Oily talk, dretful oily talk!" came Abijah's fierce pipe. "Don'ttake any stock in 't. Shot him, didn't he? Grand juror--whatdifference does that make? If they ain't fit, weed 'em out--weed 'emout!"
"Fit?" said Hiram. "It took some spunk to get up there and tell justwhat a fool he'd been, didn't--"
"Humph!" Abijah interrupted, with a snort. "Had to, didn't he?Farnsworth asked him where he was, didn't he? Had to squirm outsomehow, didn't he? Got about as much spine as a taller candle withthe wick drawed out, accordin' to his own showin'. Better weed himout, better weed him out! Humph!"
Poor Mr. Peaslee sank still lower in his chair; his head fell stilllower on his chest. They were taking away from
him even the creditof voluntary confession. Why had Farnsworth asked that question? Incasting doubt upon his one brave deed fate seemed to him to havedone its worst.
"He'd got up before I put the question," said Farnsworth.
He wished to be just. But he was indignant with Peaslee. After hisfirst laughter, his thoughts had dwelt upon the trouble that Solomonhad brought upon the innocent Jim, "just to save his own hide, theold--skee-zicks!" he exclaimed to himself.
After all, what did he know about Peaslee? If the man had merelyshot at a cat, why under the sun should he not have said so atonce, and saved all this bother? The more he thought, the moreindignant he grew--and the more doubtful. He did not notice at allthe look of timid gratitude which Mr. Peaslee cast in his direction.
"Course he was up before you spoke!" Solomon was further gratifiedto hear Hopkins declare, in his big, hearty voice. "And I think aman who owns up fair and square just when it's hardest to has gotspine enough to hold him together, anyhow."
"Up before ye asked him!" Abijah turned on Farnsworth. "Up for what?Tell me that, will ye?"
And Solomon, listening anxiously for Farnsworth's answer, wasdepressed to hear him give merely a good-humored laugh at UncleAbijah's thrust.
"Mr. Peaslee," asked Sampson, so unexpectedly that Solomon jumped,"didn't you say something about a marble?"
"Yes," said Mr. Peaslee, gloomily.
"Fit the bore, did it?" continued the foreman.
"Slick," answered Mr. Peaslee, with the brevity of despair.
"If that marble fitted the bore," said Albion Small, while Sampsonnodded assent, "it's my opinion it might do considerable damage."
His opinion had weight, for Small was a hunter of repute. Recoveredfrom their amusement, the grand jurors had become graduallyimpressed with the idea that Mr. Peaslee's confession still leftsome awkward questions unanswered. If the matter were so simple ashe said, why had he kept silent so long?
The jurymen came from all over the rather large county, and althoughthey all had some knowledge of the principal men of Ellmington, andalthough such of them as had dealings at its bank had met Mr.Peaslee, none of them knew him well. He was a newcomer at thevillage, and when at his farm had not had a wide acquaintance.
They looked to Farnsworth as his fellow townsman to speak for him;but Farnsworth said nothing, and seemed preoccupied and doubtful.The inference was that he shared their perplexity. They felt thatKeith, for all his "cantankerousness," might be right. Solomon coulddraw no comfort from their faces.
All this while Paige had been playing with his watch-chain andwatching Abijah, whose character he appreciated, with discreetamusement; but he found himself in essential agreement with thepeppery old fellow.
"Ask the state's attorney, why don't ye?" put in Keith, impatiently."He'll tell ye I've got the rights on 't. Ain't afraid, be ye?"
Sampson smiled. "Mr. State's Attorney," he said, turning to Paige,"I guess perhaps you'd better give us the law of this."
"Well, gentlemen," said Paige, "as a matter of law, Mr. Keith wouldseem to be right," and at the word Solomon's spirits sank to newdepths.
"Didn't I tell ye?" said Abijah, triumphantly.
Had the state's attorney said that he was wrong, the old man wouldhave called him a popinjay to his face. Abijah's exclamation was notdeference to legal knowledge; it was merely quick seizure of atactical point.
"Lamoury was shot," Paige went on, with a little smile at Keith'sinterruption, "and by his own statement, Mr. Peaslee shot him. Onhis own admission, his gun was dangerously loaded. Although a boy, aneighbor's son, was charged, through his act, with a serious offenseagainst the laws, he made no confession. And when, at last, he didspeak, it is at least open to debate whether he did it of his ownvolition, or because he was forced to do so by the embarrassingquestion put to him by one of your number. I don't impugn hisveracity, but I am bound to remark that he is an interestedwitness. All this is a question of fact for you to consider.
"I think you should know a little more. To determine if there wasany motive, you need to know if there was any bad blood between Mr.Peaslee and Lamoury; to find an indictment to fit the case you needto know how badly Lamoury is hurt. I think you should have Lamouryhere. Cross-questioning him, and perhaps Mr. Peaslee,"--Solomonshivered,--"should establish whether the shot was accidental, as theaccused says, or intentional, as Lamoury contends. I'll have thecomplainant here to-morrow, if it's a possible thing. As there's noformal charge--as yet--against Mr. Peaslee, I think you may properlypostpone until then the question of entering a complaint or makingan arrest, if necessary,"--Solomon shivered again,--"and of hisproper holding for appearance before the court. Meanwhile, Isuggest that you dispose of the case against young Edwards, andthen adjourn. Mr. Peaslee," he added significantly, "will of coursebe present to-morrow morning."
"Sartain, sartain," answered poor Solomon, tremulously.
It was already late, and when the grand jury had formally dismissedthe complaint against Jim, the hour was so advanced that adjournmentwas taken for the day. When Mr. Peaslee left the court house no onespoke to him, and he walked slowly home, full of the worstforebodings.
Why had he put in that marble? Relieved of his burden of anxietyand remorse in regard to Jim, he began to think more definitely thanhe had done heretofore of the possibility of serious harm toLamoury. It was dreadful to think that he might have badly woundedan inoffensive man. Was Lamoury much hurt? What would happen to amarble in a shotgun, anyhow? Would he be arrested? Would his caseget to trial? Could he, without a single witness, prove that it wasan accident? The sinister figure of Jake Hibbard rose before him,and made him feel helpless and frightened. The future looked black.
"But I done right," he tried to console himself by saying. "I doneright."
Better late than never, to be sure; but if genuine comfort in a gooddeed is sought, it is best to act at once. Mr. Peaslee could feelbut small satisfaction in his tardy confession.
Moreover, he must now face his wife. As he turned with reluctantfeet into his own yard he fairly shrank in anticipation under thesharp hail of her biting words.
To postpone a little the inevitable, to gather strength somewhat tomeet the shock, he passed the kitchen porch and went on toward thebarn. Seating himself upon an upturned pail, he stayed there a longwhile, still as a statue, while he chewed the cud of bitterreflection.
After a while, at the barn door there was a familiar flash of whiteand yellow. Looking wearily up he saw the great, green eyes of theCalico Cat fastened upon him in fierce distrust. She had one footuplifted as if she did not know whether it was safe to put it down,and in her mouth, pendent, was a Calico Kitten.
Mr. Peaslee, silent and immovable, watched her with apathetic eyes.Finally, as if assured he was not dangerous, she put down her footand disappeared with soft and cushioned tread into the dim recessesof the barn. Yet a little while and she again appeared in thedoorway with a second duplicate of herself. Again an interval, andshe brought a third.
"Well," said Solomon to himself, his spirit quite crushed, "I guessshe ain't bringing no more than belong to me by rights."
Nevertheless, he could not endure to see any others. He wentdesperately into the house, where he found his wife fuming overhis delay.
"I guess I may as well tell ye, first as last," he said, in a sortof stubborn despair. "'T was me that shot Lamoury."
"You!" exclaimed his wife, dropping her knife and fork, and lookingat him as if she thought he had taken leave of his senses.
"I guess I'm the feller," he averred, with queer, pathetic humor.And turning a patient, rounded back to his wife's expectedindignation, he told his story while he nervously washed at thesink, and fumblingly dried his face and hands in the coarse rollertowel. He made these operations last as long as his confession.Then, at an end of his resources, he turned to face the storm.
Mrs. Peaslee simply looked at him. She struggled to speak, but shefound herself in the predicament of one who has used up allammunition on the sk
irmish-line, and comes helpless to the battle.She simply could think of nothing adequate to say.
She stared at her husband while he stared out of the window.
Then she gave it up.
"Draw up your chair!" she said sharply. "I guess ye got to eat,whatever ye be!"
HE TURNED TO FACE THE STORM]