Chapter XIII: "a Daniel Come to Judgment."

Ratke and Montcalm attended the inquest over the body of Josiah Green. Men were standing on the shady side of the house, on the two porches, and strolling about the yard. Justice Sparks had ordered the outside cellar door to be closed, that the body might not be tampered with before the official examination. The cellar would still have been easy of access had not Sparks nailed a board over the hole which had been cut by Montcalm, and which might have admitted a hand to lift the fastening hook.

"How do you do, Major?" said a large, slightly corpulent man, with long chin whiskers, a rumbling voice and a breath which was tainted with whiskey.

"How do you do, Dr. Rorus?" responded Ratke.

"This is a sad affair," observed the doctor, "a lamentable happening, a bad job. Terrible, terrible terrible," and Dr. Rorus raised his eyes aloft. "A man, a fellow-being, struck down, cut off in the very noontide, or, as you might say, meridian of vigor." At this point the physician took an uncertain step and waved his fist in the air.

The major, whose own pomposity of language was unconsciously caricatured by Dr. Rorus, did not fancy listening to the drunken harangue, but he was obliged either to tolerate it or to beat a retreat. His friends had noticed that immediately after he had met the doctor he was less pedantic in his conversation, and his philosophical and historical allusions were less frequent.

"Have they found any trace of the assassin?" asked the major.

"Strong evidence," responded the doctor, "very strong. There was a conspiracy. The victim was called up in the middle of the night and was never seen alive again. He was called by a certain individual that I won't name now."

"They will not convict William Henry Harrison on such proof," said Ratke. "I hope they have stronger evidence than that."

"The murderer," said Rorus with his customary redundancy, "the homicide, the execrable monster, the villain will be punished and put in prison and made to suffer. With whom is he dealing? With you? No. With me? No. With a weak man? No. With that mighty aggregation, that great mass of power, the commonwealth and the State of Michigan. Oh, the people of Michigan are a wonderful people. They have developed and grown up to greatness. Plenty of hardship, plenty of enemies to fight. There is, or was when they grew up, the Indian, the bear, the wolf, the panther and the hard winters and--poverty and--hard labor, terrible hard and--the fever and--ague, the rattlesnake and--hardship. The Michigan boy has the enterprise. You can't beat him. Best in the world."

"Where is Sparks?" asked Ratke. "I would like to see him."

"Can't say," said the doctor. "Where there's a slight breeze, there's a cause for it. Where there's a big wind, there's a good deal more. Evidence must have, has got to have, facts behind it."

"I understand," said the major. "We will talk this over some other time."

"There is no denying the fact. Major," declared Rorus, detaining Ratke by clutching his sleeve. "Brace against it and it will push you back. Try to shove it along and it will kick. I will give my drug-store, and my practice, and my diploma to any scholar, or set of scholars, who will disprove what I say, or demonstrate that it isn't so, either one, mind you, either one. There is a chance for somebody, a big chance."

"Precisely," acknowledged the major, glancing uneasily about, but disliking rudely to leave his tiresome companion.

"I claim," said Rorus, "I assert positively, without a tinge of doubt, there was no profit in that deed, that atrocity, as you might term it if you was disposed to give it a hard name. Oh, I don't believe in being mealy-mouthed with these rascals. In the first place there was no profit to the killer, the murderer I mean, to be more explicit. He will go to some saloon, and he'll drink. Then he'll gamble, and he'll lose what he's got, and he'll fight. And of course, as he's drunk, he'll get whipped and get a black eye. So you will admit. Major, there is no profit in a black eye. I claim, and I defy any man to prove to the contrary, aye, I challenge the world, there was no profit in it to Green. If there was, where was it? There was the house broken into. There was the $2,000 gone."

"Exactly," remarked the major with a sigh.

"Morality pays," pursued the doctor. "That is the teaching of the greatest philosophers, and thinkers, and orators, and smart men of the present day, and of the past, and that ever lived, of Aristotle, and Epictetus, and Bacon, and Socrates, and Pluto. Oh, that Pluto was a wonderful man. His philosophy is mild--and gentle--and beneficent and pleasant."

"If ever you fall into his dominion," observed Ratke, "you will find it not a pleasant one."

At this juncture, to the major's joy, he was approached by Sparks and informed that his testimony would be required, and that the jury, the witnesses and the officers of the inquest were to go through the house and view the cellar before the outside door was opened for the admission of the crowd. Sparks carried a lighted lamp in order to help their observations.

"Here are his tracks plain enough," said Holmes. "He wore rubber boots."

"I tracked him down south in the sand as much as forty rods," said the sheriff, whose unpretentious manner up to this time had concealed his interest in the tragedy. "Then he went to one side. There was a ways where the grass looked as if it had been disturbed. After that I couldn't follow him at all."

"It's queer he should go in the sand," commented the prosecuting attorney, a sleek young man who had red cheeks which were evidently made so by dissipation. "He ought to know he could be followed there."

"Murderers don't think of such things," said the sheriff. "They're generally in a hurry. It's some little thing that they forget that gets them caught. I wonder what size those rubber boots were. We can measure the tracks. Who's got a rule?"

The cellar door was now opened, and those who were waiting entered. The jury with Rorus surrounded the body and drew from it the sheet by which it had been covered.

With a copy of the statutes in his hand Sparks administered the oath to the six jurors.

"Here is what done it," said the justice, picking up the broad-ax after he had performed the official duty just mentioned.

"Terrible blow," ejaculated Dr. Rorus, "terrible. Crashed through the cuticle, the cutis, the frontal bone, the parietal bone, the arachnoid, the dura mater, the pia mater and the cerebrum. Intelligence, in a moment, in a second, in a half of a second, or less, for it was done instantly, destroyed, stopped, or, more properly, used up. Did you ever think what a slippery thing mind is. Major? Intangible, incomprehensible. You can't get at it. You want to put it under a microscope, but it isn't there. You grab for it, but it gets away. Whenever you put your hand on it, it slips out just like a greased pig."

So eager were the spectators to view the proceedings of the inquest that they seriously embarrassed the jurors in their deliberations and crowded them almost upon the body of Green. The annoyance at last aroused the displeasure of Sparks, who ordered two constables to clear a larger place for the accommodation of the court. The retreat was slow, like all forced backward movements of a crowd. Those who were behind had no inclination to move farther away from the object of interest, and those who were in front were by them prevented from doing so. Finally motion was imparted to the sluggish mass, which, reaching beyond the door, settled back with the rearward part resisting the retrogression. One of the lookers-on, who struggled most obstinately against yielding his position, was crowded toward the door; his heels struck the barrel which served as a curb, and he was precipitated to a sitting posture. Unfortunately for him he was a lean man, so very lean, that, doubled up as he was, he shot inside of the barrel, where, helpless and clamorous, he remained with his chin barely above water and the soles of his feet and the top of his head forming equally elevated slopes. The excited throng pressed about him and drove him farther into the well, but he was finally rescued, and the investigation proceeded.

When the dead body had been critically examined, it was wrapped in the sheet and removed to the ground floor. Sparks led the way to the room directly above the cellar, where the testimony was to be taken.

"Gentlemen," said Sparks, "we've met to-day to do our duty, and that's what everybody orto be willin' to do. One of our neighbors has been slayed almost before our eyes. Now we want to find out who done it, and what he done it for. Folks'll expect it of us, consequently that's what we orto do."

Sparks now proceeded to the examination of witnesses. Dr. Rorus gave straggling testimony relating to the organs affected by the wound, to the time and to the immediate cause of death. It was to no purpose that the sheriff and the prosecuting attorney bade him confine his attention to necessary facts.

Ratke was the next witness to be called. The preceding day he had paid Green fourteen thousand five hundred forty-two dollars and forty-two cents. All except the forty-two cents was in paper. He had given paper because it was the cheaper currency and it was what he had borrowed. After he had paid him, Green drove toward home, and that was the last time he had seen him alive. When asked by the prosecuting attorney whether there had been any ill-feeling between him and the deceased, he admitted that there had been. When questioned as to its nature, he said substantially that, as his neighbor was dead, he could not with propriety explain their trouble. He was liable to prejudice. The account which he would furnish might be biased. A counter-statement from the other party, therefore, would be necessary to give the jury a correct idea of the circumstances. That statement it was impossible to obtain. He, consequently, must be silent respecting their relations. He could only inform them that, however intense or unjust his animosity, it never would have prompted him to injure in person, reputation or finance the victim of the recent tragedy.

Mrs. Green was nearly overcome by grief, and the jury allowed her to tell her story without being subjected to many questions. She was quite deaf. She had been awakened by her husband in the night. Green said William Henry Harrison wanted him to come upstairs, and she, herself, could hear the calls, though she could not understand them. From her husband she learned their import. William Henry Harrison said that he was sick. Then he said that he was very sick and that he was going to die. Next he said that he was going to have a fit and that he would break the house. He broke the bed, knocked out some window lights and jarred loose a lot of plaster. Green at last went up to see what was the matter. She waited for him a long time, but he did not come. After a while she became alarmed and ascended to the chamber. William Henry Harrison acted strangely. She asked him where her husband was, but he returned an answer so low that she could not hear him. She thought it was a whisper. She insisted that he should speak, and he was still obstinate. She tried to pull him from bed, but she was not strong enough. Then she endeavored to haul the clothes from him. At that he resisted and even acted mad. She never saw him so violent before. Whenever she moved the quilt which was over him, he carefully replaced it again. He would fold it and put it over his legs, and she saw him arrange it so that a wrinkle would run across the center. As she continued her attempts to arouse him, he grew frantic, and she was afraid longer to stay by him. After hunting through the house she went down cellar and found her husband. She could not tell what she did during the next few minutes, but she was sure she did not touch the body. When she recovered from the shock sufficiently to think and act, she proceeded to Mr. Holmes's house and awakened him. He, with another neighbor whom he aroused, came home with her, and watched in the cellar until morning.

"The next witness I shall perceed to call," said the justice, "is William Henry Harrison Hibbard."

Gently pushed forward by several men, William Henry Harrison took the chair.

Sparks gravely looked down at the law-book and repeated these words: "William Henry Harrison Hibbard, you do solemnly swear that the evidence you shall give to this inquest concernin' the death of the person here lyin' dead shall be the truth, the whole truth and nothin' but the truth."

The half-wit stared stupidly at the justice, but made no reply.

"The court is waitin'," observed Sparks. "We want you to speak up."

Still the witness did not answer.

"We're in a hurry," said Sparks. "Do you swear it, I say?"

"No," replied William Henry Harrison.

"What!" ejaculated Sparks, "you won't tell us? Now I ask you again. Do you swear to tell the truth?"

"No," said William Henry Harrison, "I no swear. Wicked, awful."

"We do not want you to swear or say anything bad," said the major. "We want to know if you will tell the truth."

"Yes," was the response. "I no lie."

"Now, William Henry Harrison Hibbard," Sparks began, "we want you to tell us somethin' about the murder. Some think you know more about it than you care to tell. They kind o' think you know who it was that hit 'im."

William Henry Harrison's terror of the preceding night was revived. He remembered the dark-lantern, the hideous face which had peered into his, the great shadow which had been thrown on the ceiling and the threats which the ferocious intruder had uttered. He drew down his head and shoulders and cast an uneasy glance toward the door which led to the cellar.

"I want to ask you, William Henry Harrison," said Sparks, "what did you do as you did for? What did you want to call Mr. Green up there for when you knowed somebody was a-waitin' to kill 'im? There was nothin' fair about that. It wa'n't as you'd like to be done by. Answer me now. What did you want to do it for?"

Poor William Henry Harrison, incapable of defense, could only stare in mute appeal.

"If you don't answer me," threatened Sparks, "I shall take legal perceedin's agin you. What did you want to do it for?"

"I dono," responded the half-wit.

"Yes, you do know, too," persisted Sparks. "If you called him up there, you know what you called him for, You orto be ashamed o' yourself, a-doin' like that. There he'd fed you an' kept you an' give you your clothes, an' you had to up an' play that mean trick on 'im,"

"Young man," said Dr. Rorus, in his most resonant bass, "do you realize the position you are taking?"

The prosecuting attorney here objected to Rorus's questioning the witness.

"Do you know," persisted the drunken doctor, ignoring the objection, "that you are in insurrection against, aye, assaulting the statutes of the Peninsular State? For, when you stand in the way of justice, you are assailing the whole. Do you think the people will stand that? Why, my dear sir, you never heard the motto of Michigan, did you? It is 'Tuebor'--I will defend her. And, when the young men of Michigan say, 'I will defend her,' they mean it. They are ready to fight for her liberty and her rights and her civilization. At the first menace they would crowd up by the dozens and the hundreds and the thousands and the millions. Now answer instantly."

The frightened witness slid to the side of his chair as far from his interlocutor as he could get without leaving or moving his seat. The prosecuting attorney again protested that Rorus had no right to question the witness.

"Rules are for use, sir," said the doctor--"for use when they're needed. We don't need that rule now. Young man," he continued, addressing William Henry Harrison, "you are liable to be arrested for conspiracy, to be put in Jackson inside of stone walls, and have men ready to shoot you if you try to run away. I will have a man come for you now. Your honor, send a constable for him."

"Rorus," interrupted the major, "you are drunk or you are a fool. Your honor, if you will allow me to question the witness, I think I can extract the information you want. Now, William Henry Harrison," he said, turning to the half-wit, "I will let none of them hurt you. I will keep them off. You like tobacco, don't you?"

"No like now. No like nothin' now."

"But you will like it when we go away," said Ratke kindly, "Jim, let me lake your tobacco box."

The young fellow who at the hunt after the horse thieves had been conspicuous in the white hat handed Ratke his tobacco box. William Henry Harrison, whose scanty supply of tobacco had been partly stolen from Green and partly bought by pennies which he had accumulated, took the box and hesitated.

"You had better take it," said Ratke. "You may not have another chance to get tobacco."

Thus urged, the half-wit transferred the tobacco to his pocket.

"If you will answer a few questions," said the major, "you can leave us and be away from these men. Then, when I go to Break o'Day, I will buy you a pound of tobacco. Now, I would like to, know if any one came to your room last night."

The allusion to the circumstances by which the half-wit had been so frightened again made him incapable of utterance. His terrified looks and shrinking posture indicated that he would give no evidence.

"Oh, you aught not to be afraid," said Ratke, "I won't let anybody touch you. What kind of looking man was he?"

"He big. He awful."

"There," exclaimed Sparks, "now we've got a clue. If you can git him to tell who he looks like. Major, it'll be a big point."

"Holmes," said the major, "hand me your tobacco box. Have a chew, William Henry Harrison. Did the man have whiskers?"

"Yes," responded William Henry Harrison. "He have whissers, just like Misser Sparks."

This unexpected reply drew the general attention to the justice and brought a flush to the judicial countenance.

"Tell me what he did," said Ratke.

"No," said William Harrison. "He say he kill when I tell."

"Let him come," said Ratke assuringly. "I will give him the hardest thrashing he ever got. You don't think he will hurt you when I am here, do you?"

"No, I 'fraid of no one when you here. He come when you go 'way. Come when nobody here. Night. He shoot, kill, hurt, make blood."

"How do you know he will hurt you?" asked the major.

"He say so. He come las' night. He pull my legs. He say I call Misser Green. I say I no like call Misser Green. He git mad. Then he say he hurt I no call Misser Green. He shake me. I call Misser Green. Misser Green git mad. Man he make me say I sick, I have fit. I break things. Misser Green he git mad. He come up. Man he lay quilt on my legs. He say I move quilt he kill me. Man he scare Misser Green. Misser Green he go with man. Miss Green she come up. She pull quilt. I 'fraid man come. I pull. I 'fraid now."

"That will do, William Henry Harrison," said the major. "You have been a good witness. You must admit, Rorus, that he has told a not improbable story. It is not strange that he should be compelled to do as he did by the assassin, who was certain that the course Which he adopted would bring Mr. Green to the chamber. Besides, William Henry Harrison is not capable of inventing the account which he gave."

"We've heerd all the testimony we can git at," said Sparks, "that is, so far as we know. Now, honorable jury, I want you to decide this question. An', while you're about it, git it right if you can. This lookin' a thing over an' then gittin' it wrong after you've had the fussin', I don't think much of."

The clerk, with the help of Dr. Rorus, prepared the inquisition, to which the jury subscribed. The document stated that "The said Josiah Green came to his death between the hours of one and two o'clock, on the second day of July, 187--, in the cellar of his own house, by means of a broad-ax, in the hands of a person or of persons unknown, and that the immediate cause of death was cerebral hemorrhage inducing paralysis of the nerve centers, asphyxia, cerevuesisms and coma."

Mrs. Green's neighbors eradicated the traces of the murder from the cellar. The broad-ax they gave to Sparks. Back of the barn they carried the plank, with its discoloring stripe of dark red. They dipped dry the well, the water of which was bloody and loathsome as that of the Egyptian streams over which Aaron's rod was stretched. It could never again be used, for though it would once more be clear, the sickening thought of the tragedy which had given it that crimson tinge would appall him who should presume to drink from it. William Henry Harrison was obliged to carry the family supply of water from the barn until another well could be dug.

"Trace," observed the major, after they had passed the church on their return to the farm, "you remind me more and more of your father. When there was a general struggle to obtain a petty object, he never joined the rabble. He was willing that others should go before him. At Green's you sacrificed your curiosity to the curiosity of others. You might have crowded up and viewed the body, but you did not. I do not believe you went into the cellar to-day."