Page:Once a Week Volume 7.djvu/339

 . 13, 1862.] of my companion, from which, when I observed it, I endeavoured in vain to rouse him. He answered me courteously, to be sure, but very abruptly; and every now and then he had recourse to the bottle, until it was emptied.

“Landlord, fetch me more liquor,” he called out authoritatively; and he drank more and more, till finally he fell from his stool; and, as I retired to bed in an adjoining room, I heard his snoring ring through the inn.

Being much fatigued, having travelled forty; miles on horseback during the day, I slept until I felt a hand grasping my arm—opening my eyes, I saw the sun shining through the window, and my companion of the previous evening standing beside me.

“Stranger,” said he, “excuse me, but I saw last night that you was a whole-souled fellow, and I want you to go with me.”

“Where to?” I asked.

“The justice’s,” he replied.

“What for?”

“I’ve got something on my mind—it must out—I tried liquor last night, but couldn’t keep it down. I ain’t a drinking man, no how, and I feel like a dog. Come along with me and be my friend.”

There was a bold frankness in his manner that I could not withstand. I accordingly rose and dressed myself, and we walked, together, to the house of the justice, who lived about half-a-mile from the hotel. He sent down word to us that he would be up in a couple of hours.

“But tell him,” said my acquaintance, to the servant, “I want to see him on a matter of life and death.”

“Da’s no use o’ dat,” grinned the slave, “massa don’t care ’bout life and death till he get him sleep out.”

We left the house, but John Rolfe, as my companion called himself, made no further allusion to the nature of his business than to say, in answer to my inquiries, “When we see the judge you’ll know all.”

“Is returned to breakfast, and I observed that Rolfe refused the morning dram proffered him by the landlord, and ate sparingly. Something was evidently preying on his mind, and I anxiously awaited the hour when I should receive an explanation of the mystery.

The time came, and we were admitted into the presence of the dispenser of justice, who was a gentleman of wealth and education, rotund in person, and apparently on excellent terms with himself and the world.

“Well,” said the judge, “what’s the matter?”

“Why, you see,” replied Rolfe, “three days ago I came down the river to Madison to sell my furs and skins. I made a pretty good trade, but that very night I lost my whole pile at poker. I was dead broke, and hadn’t is confounded cent left. Well, the next morning, early, I started for this place, and, as I wouldn’t chisel, I went without eating the whole day. I slept in the woods, and yesterday morning I got up as hungry as a painter, and as I walked along thinks I, what am I to do? I never see game so scarce; there warn’t so much as a squirrel to be found. I’m above cheating any man out of a dinner, but I felt that a dinner I must have. Just then a fellow comes riding along the road. I talked to him, and tried to borrow, swearing to pay, at any place he might name, in a week; but the critter told me he paid his way out of his own pocket, and he’d too little to divide.

‘How much have you got?’ says I.

‘Two-fifty,’ says he.

‘Now,’ thinks I, ‘that is too little to divide.’ So while he was looking another way, I shoots him through the head, and gin him as decent burial as I could under an old log, and took the two dollars and a half. But it won’t do; my conscience misgives me. I’m sorry for it, and wish the feller had his money back if he could only be alive. But, between you and I, as it’s too late for that, I think I ought to be hung.”

The judge called his black boy, ordered three pipes and tobacco, and we smoked in silence.

“Then you really think you ought to be hung,” he said, with some compassion, as he whiffed a cloud of smoke towards the ceiling.

“I do, in fact,” answered Rolfe, emitting a similar volume of vapour.

The judge smoked, and considered again.

“Well, we’ll try to hang you,” he added.

There was gratitude in Rolfe’s eye, as he replied:

“Thank you, that’ll ease my conscience.”

The judge knocked the ashes from his pipe and. spoke:

“Well, come here in half an hour. I’ll try to get a jury.”

Rolfe and myself, laying our pipes on the table, were about leaving, when the judge asked us to take a drink, which having done, we bade him good morning.

At the expiration of the half hour we returned, when we found twelve men smoking and drinking with the magistrate, awaiting us. We were politely requested to sit down.

“Now,” said Judge J, addressing himself to Rolfe, “tell these gentlemen what you have already told me.”

Whereupon Rolfe repeated the statement he had before made. “Now, gentlemen,” continued the first speaker, “I wish you to say if this gentleman—Mr. Rolfe, your name is, eh? well, there’s some fine old brandy, make yourself perfectly at home—whether, gentlemen, you find John Rolfe guilty, or not guilty, of murder. In addition to what he has said, I will observe, for your information, that I have sent out, and have found the body just where he stated it to be.”

The jury smoked, rose up, took a little brandy-and-water, and then sat down again, and smoked in silence for some time. At last, one of them, who appeared to be the foreman, said:

“The case is tolerably clear, and we rather think he’s guilty.”

“There’s more tobacco on the table,” said the judge to Rolfe, “the best you can find anywhere—you’ve heard what these gentlemen have said—well,” he continued, a little uneasily, “I don’t like to tell you in my own house; but—”