Mr. Wood, in a condition as helpless as if with hands and feet bound, realizing his situation, and his responsibility, maintained silence: a silence more eloquent than speech, since a single word from him in confirmation of the charge he had made would have precipitated a battle, in which he, most certainly, and probably others, including some of his benefactors, would have been killed.

Then Tooly saw that a goodly number of men had arrived from the other section of the camp, and were watching to see what would happen; some of these viewing the scene with att.i.tude and looks that boded no good for the man who held the center of the arena.

Tooly's threatening talk ceased. Still Wood said nothing. In silence, Tooly mounted his horse, and with his fellows rode away, leaving the party of emigrants--most of them terror-stricken, some angry--standing dumb, looking at one another, and at the retreating three until they went out of sight, in the dusk of the desert night-fall: stood there on the sage-brush sward, a tableau of silent dumbfoundedness; for how long none knew; each waiting for something to break the spell.

"I feel like a fool," exclaimed Van Diveer.

"But," spoke Drennan, the older and more conservative leader of their party, "we couldn't start an open battle with those fellows without some of us being killed. They are gone; we should be glad that they are. It is better to bear the insult than have even one of our people shot."

"I'm glad they left no bullets in me-- Ulee, ilee, aloo, ee; Courting, down in Tennessee."

This paraphrasing of his favorite ditty was, of course, perpetrated by "Jack."

But we all wished we knew. Was it true that these men were conspirators with the Indians who had been ravaging the emigrant trains? If so, doubtless they would be concerned in other and possibly much more disastrous a.s.saults, and perhaps soon. If so, who would be the next victims?

But Mr. Wood was still too indefinite in his identification of the man Tooly--at least in his statement of it--to clear away all doubt, or even, as yet, to induce the majority of our men to act on the judgment of some: that we should follow these plainsmen, learn more, and have it out with them.

There were many circ.u.mstances pointing not only to the connection of these men with the a.s.sault on Mr. Wood's family, but to the probability of their having been responsible for the slaughter of the Holloway party. It seemed improbable that there were two bands of Indians operating along that part of the Humboldt River in the looting of emigrant trains. If it could be proved that white men co-operated with the savages in the Wood case, the inference would be strong that the same white men had been accessories in the Holloway ma.s.sacre. The use of guns in those attacks, and the evident abundance of ammunition in the hands of the Indians, went far toward proving the connection of white men with both these cases.

CHAPTER XI.

SAGEBRUSH JUSTICE.

The Sink of the Humboldt is a lake of strong, brackish water, where the river empties into the natural basin, formed by the slant of the surrounding district of mountains, plain and desert, and where some of the water sinks into the ground and much of it evaporates, there being no surface outlet. In the latter part of the summer the water is at a very low stage, and stronger in mineral const.i.tuents. There we found the daytime heat most intense.

The land that is exposed by the receding water during the hottest period of the fall season becomes a dry, crackling waste of incrusted slime, curling up in the fierce sunshine, and readily crushed under foot, like frozen snow. The yellowish-white scales reflect the sunlight, producing a painful effect on the eyes. Not many feet wander to this forbidding sea of desolation.

At the border of this desert lake, a few feet higher than the water, is a plateau of sand, covered with sage-brush and stones. We were there in the last week of August. Fresh water was not to be had except at a place a half-mile from our camp, where there was a seepage spring. There we filled our canteens and buckets with enough for supper and breakfast. The animals had to endure the night without water.

Not far from the spring was situated a rude shack, known as "Black's Trading Post." This establishment was constructed of sc.r.a.ps of rough lumber, sticks, stones and cow-hides. With Mr. Black were two men, said to be his helpers--helpers in what, did not appear. The princ.i.p.al stock in trade was a barrel of whisky--reported to be of very bad quality--some plug tobacco, and--not much else. Black's prices were high. A sip from the barrel cost fifty cents. It was said to be an antidote for alkali poisoning.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "A sip from the barrel cost fifty cents"]

Some of our men visited this emporium of the desert, and there they found "Jim" Tooly. The barrel had been tapped in his behalf, and he was loquacious; appearing also to be quite "at home" about the Post.

His two companions of our recent acquaintance were not there. The "antidote" was working; Tooly was in good spirits, and eloquent. He did not appear to recognize those of our people who were visiting the place; but they knew him. There were other persons present from the camps of two or three companies of emigrants, but strangers to us, who were also stopping for the night at the margin of the Sink.

Tooly a.s.sumed an air of comradeship toward all, addressing various individuals as "Partner" and "Neighbor"; but his obvious willingness to hold the center of the stage made it clear that he deemed himself the important personage of the community.

Some things he said were self-incriminating. He boasted of having "done up a lot of Pikers, up the creek," declaring his intention to "look up another lot of suckers" the following day.

When our men thought that they had heard enough they returned to camp and reported.

Recollections of the last time we had seen Mr. Tooly made the present occasion seem opportune. An impromptu "court" was organized: judge, sheriff and deputies; and these, with a few chosen men of the company, went to the trading post to convene an afternoon session. The members of this "court" dropped in quietly, one or two at a time, looked over the place, asked questions--about the country; the prices of Mr.

Black's "goods"; how far it might be to Sacramento; anything to be sociable: but none offered to tap the barrel.

The stranger emigrants had heard of the Indian raids up the river.

Seeming to have inferred something of pending events, they had gone to the trading post in considerable numbers. Tooly was still there. Black and his two men seemed to be persons who ordinarily would be cla.s.sed as honest. Still, they appeared to listen to Tooly's tales of prowess in the looting of emigrant trains as if they regarded such proceedings as acts of exceptional valor; exhibiting as much interest in the recital as did the "tenderfoot" emigrants--who held a different opinion regarding those adventures.

When enough had been heard to warrant the finding of an indictment, the newly-appointed judge issued a verbal order of arrest, and the sheriff and his deputies quickly surrounded the accused, before he suspected anything inimical to his personal welfare. With revolver in hand, the sheriff commanded, "Hands up, 'Jim' Tooly!" To the astonishment of all, the big man raised both hands, without protest; this, however, in mock obedience, as was evident by his laughing at the supposed fun.

"This is not a joke, sir," came in harsh tones from the judge. "When we saw you last, about sixteen days ago, you came to our camp to deny a charge made against you by a man of our company. You overawed, browbeat and insulted the man and those who were a.s.sisting and protecting him in his distress. You denied the accusation made against you, with vehemence and much profanity. Giving you the benefit of a doubt, we permitted you to go. Now we are here to take the full statement of the prosecuting witness, and examine such other evidence as there may be. We will clear you if we can, or find you guilty if we must."

In whatever direction the culprit looked he gazed into the open end of a gun or pistol. The sheriff said:

"Now, Tooly, any motion of resistance will cost you your life."

A disinterested onlooker at the moment would have cringed, lest the unaccustomed duty of some deputy should so unnerve his hand that he would inadvertently and prematurely pull the trigger of his weapon.

But all held sufficiently steady, as they looked through the sights.

The prisoner slowly grasped the situation, and knew that temporary safety lay in obedience. The sheriff's demand for Tooly's weapons created more surprise, when it was revealed that, in his feeling of security while at the Post, he had relieved himself of those enc.u.mbering articles and deposited them with the landlord, that he might have freedom from their weight while enjoying the hospitality of the place.

Thus his captors had him as a tiger with teeth and claws drawn. His weapons, when brought out from the hut for examination, were found to be two pistols, of the largest size and most dangerous appearance, in a leathern holster, the latter made to carry on the pommel of a saddle, in front of the rider. These, also his saddle and other trappings, were searched for evidence; but, except the pistols, nothing was found that tended to throw any further light on the question of his guilt or innocence.

Tooly was then taken, under a heavy guard, to a spot some distance from the Post, where the court reconvened, for the purpose of completing the trial.

His captors had, with good reason, reckoned Tooly as like a beast of the jungle, who, when put at bay, would resort to desperate fighting; but, having been caught thus unawares and unarmed, violence on his part or resistance of any kind, was useless. He was doubtless feigning meekness, hoping for an opportunity to escape.

A jury was selected, mostly from the stranger emigrants.

The improvised court sat on an alkali flat near the margin of the lake, where there were some large stones and clumps of sage-brush.

There Tooly was confronted by Mr. Wood, still with bandaged arm. Tooly declared he had never before seen the Englishman, but Wood said he had seen Tooly, and now reaffirmed his belief that the prisoner was one of the persons who, some weeks previously, had ridden with the Indians who killed Mrs. Wood and the child, also wounded and robbed the witness.

Still the evidence was not deemed sufficiently positive or complete, the ident.i.ty being in some doubt. The jury would not convict without conclusive proof. With the view of procuring further evidence, the judge ordered that the person of the prisoner be searched.

Hearing this mandate, Tooly first made some sign of an intention to resist--only a slight start, as if possibly contemplating an effort to break through the cordon of untrained guards.

"Gentlemen," ordered the sheriff, "keep, every man, his eye on this fellow, and his finger on the trigger." Then to the prisoner,

"Stand, sir, or you will be reduced to the condition of a 'good Indian'!"

Escape as yet appeared impossible, and Tooly must have finally come to a definite realization that he was in the hands of men who meant business, most earnestly. Bravado had ceased to figure in his conduct.

It was apparent that the search for evidence was narrowing its field; the erstwhile minions of frontier justice were on the right scent.

Tooly grew pallid of feature and his cheeks hollowed perceptibly, in a moment. There was a wild glare in his eyes, as they turned from side to side; fear, hatred, viciousness, mingled in every glance. He crouched, not designedly, but as if an involuntary action of the muscles drew him together. His fists were clenched; his mouth partly opened, as if he would speak, but could not.

Thus he stood, half erect, while the officer searched his clothing.

The examination disclosed that, secured in a buckskin belt, worn under his outer garments, there was English gold coin, to the value of five hundred dollars; just one-third of the amount that Mr. Wood declared he had lost at the time of the robbery. What became of the other two-thirds of Mr. Wood's money was readily inferred, but full proof of it was not necessary to this case.

Tooly's trial was closed. The only instruction the court gave the jury was, "Gentlemen, you have heard the testimony and seen the evidence; what is your verdict?"

The answer came, as the voice of one man, "Guilty."

During the entire proceeding, at the post and down by the lake, the judge sat astride his mule. Addressing the prisoner once more from his elevated "bench," he said: