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OUR SHORT- STORY

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OUR SHORT- STORY THE EVIDENCE OF CBHtE. Major M'Lain was a peculiar man. Pos- •etxsiug lHauy eccentricities unci extreme ideas, he was. called idiofcyncruM-ic by many, but nevertheless was a jolly, good-natured coni- panioa. at the clubs. By his friends he was looked upon at times as being- erratic, but aid liberality and good nature more than counter- balanced his undersirable qualities. The king of good fellows on occasions, lie was equally disagreeable when lie was exjjected most of all to Lit ckeeriul and good humoured. About three miles from the quiet little village of Yer- non he had spent the greater portions of his days. From early boyhood lie had livc-d at the old homestead, but, strange to say, he had never married. in the blessed state of bachelorhood lie had passed his life. and now, at the mature age of three ieore and ten, he bad no idea of taking unto himself a helpmate. He was satisfied with his portion, and content, smiling and chuckling over human eve-its, had never complained of his let. So much for Major M Lain. Juafc to the right of the AT La in mansion lived Cclonel Mashburn. It was an oruinary farm cottage that had given shelter to the Colonel and his family for many years. The luxury of the McLajn hone was not to be found in the humbler dwelling of his neigh- bour, but it was home to the Mashburn family, and they looked with disdain and contempt 1JpÜll the abiding place of their bachelor neigh- bour. Though the uweiLngs were stparaitd by« only a short distance, there was but iittle love lost between the two families. It is true that their lands adjoined and only a few blazed trees told the story of the boundary, yet tha? distance that- is said to lend enchant- ment unfortunately was not great enough to bind the families in neighbourly love. Years prewiouH to the time 1u" story is written a. bitter dp-spate as to the location of the line had caused a breach to occur between the Major and his neighbour. As time passed, tht chasm widened and the puarel beoasne more bitter. The County Sur- veyor had been called in in the inteiest of jnace aiid harmony, but his decision, which was in favour of Masjor JM'La'.n, failed to pour ail on the waters of discontent, and hostilities were again re-timedi with greater zest than tver before. It looked at times as if there would be war, and the inhabitants of the little settlement frequently discussed the final outcome of the feud. As both men are now de-ad, I have decided to tell the story of the manner in which the dispute was finally settled. The story ma.y or may not be true, but 1 will relate it just as it wis told to me by one who lived in the neighbourhood and was a friend; of both Major M'Lain and. Colonel iiashburn. Larly one morning in -Jay many years ago. Colonel Masnbum left his home and walked down to the contested lir e boundary. He was du an unusually bad, humour that mornirvg, and Si ad taken the- walk with the hope that it would benefit him atid aid his but diges- tion. He had spent a restless night, and w is fttei.ing thy btid result}- When he reached the line of blazed trees that had been long fttei.ing thy btid result}- When he reached the line of blazed trees that had been long regarded a* t)he boundary to his possesions, he looked long an.d wistfully at the surround- ings of his more prosperous neighbour. He conscientiously believed that lie had been im- posed upon. and his bl.xid boiled madly, and he was in. a rage of passion. Finally, his feelings overcame ham, and with an oath he nought the path that led to the doorstep of Major ).f' L:lÎn's pidatial 1-. ame. Cclcnel Mashburn walked rapidly up the long till. He was angry, and it was his inten- sion to have another talk with the major and see if he could not either by threats or plead- ings hring him to terms and secure possession of what lie thougiic was his own. A farm hand at work in the field looked up from his plough, paused and then continued to the end of his furrow. At the door Colonel Mashburn was met by Major ;,1'Lain. The two men glared at each other and then retired from view. The old negro cook heard several oaths, closed the door, and went out into the <al»n, telling one of thp men employed about the place that there was going to be Lrcuble. Mr. Sutles, passing by on his horse, stopped at the gate, which was near the house, and listened to the quarrel. The 'tory of the feud w old, and he paused only long enough to satisfy himself tljut dw maior and Colonel Ma.-hburn were quarrelling, and then spurred his hor-e to catch the morning train to Abon- dale. Late in the afternoon Mr. Sutties re- tun-ed. As he passed the .vl'Lean home he • saw an immense crowd in the yard. The sheriff told him that Major M'Lain had been killed. A cCIO'l2r'S inquest- was being held. TILl: was all, and Buttle* buried on tc his home, think- iug of the quarrel he had overheard as he passed the house m the morning. At the door he was met by his wife, who told him how that Major M'Lain Lead been found dead in his chair. The old coachman made the discovery, and the alarm was given aud the crowd assembled. "1 lielieve that Colonel Mashburn killed him, said Mrs. Sutties. I. Leaning close down, Mr. Sutties whimpered into the ear of his. wife;- I know it!' There was a peculiar emphasis to the words as they fell from the lips ot 1[: husband, and she looked up -into his face inquiringly. The hot words of passion heard in the morning by Sutties were told Mr. Settles went immediately to the home -if Major M'Lain. He elbowed his way through a curious crowd and went into the room where the inquest was being 'held. The Sheriff was closely questioning all who came into the room. Sutties was nervous, but he tried to conceal his true feelings. Beckoning the Sheriff to the outside he told what he had heard. "Colonel Mashburn is not at home," said the Sheriff. "Here 1 am," said the Colonel, pale and trembling. looked in-t-o the fa.ce of the officer. "You are my prisoner, said the Sheriff, placing bis (hand en the arm of the Colonel. "I thought so," cooly remarked the Colone.. Several weeks later the court room of Iron- I dale county was filled to oversowing with eager and curious people. The windows were tilled and there was no standing room in the large room.. and there was no standing room in the large room.. Judge Lewis looked stern through his gold- rimmed glasses, and knocked his gavel severely on the desk for order. "Bring in the prisoner, Mr Sheriff," said the Judge. Trembling, and utterly hopeless, the Colonel t.h? .TuJ?e. Trembling, and utterly hopeless, the Colonel staggered into the cro-wded court room. An a.-Oiy n-alior wa", on his face, and he fastened bb eyes fixedly vpon the floor. I In a clear vok* the indictment found by the grp.nd jury was read, and then the trial began. The fivst witness wa.s ths Coroner, who held an inquest over the remains of the Major. 'He stated that the verdict was that dec.j->-ed bad come to his death on account of a. gunshot wound, and that the jury believed that the gun was fired by Colonel Eugene J. Mashburn. The county physician swore that the wound was just above the heart, and that death must have been instantaneous. When asked by the counsel for the defence just what must have been the distance from which the shot was tired, the physician stated that the nature of the wound wan such as to cause him to believe that it must have been several feet— probably fifty. The old coachman of the major was next sworn and put upon tho stand. Before the court, in a trembling voice- the negro told how he had found his master sitting in his cha-ir stone dead. He said he was rubbing down the horses in the barn, and found one of them had a. sore place on his left hind leg. He thought something should be done for the horse, and went into the library to consult with his master. When he entered thy door Major .M'Lain was sitting in the chair in which he was accustomed tjo take his morning nap. The darky called him, but received no answer. He called repeatedly, and then went close up to the major. With a scream he fled from the room, fur lie saw his eyes were glassy and set far back in his head. He gave the alarm, but was too superstitious to again enter the room, believing it to be bad luck. The cook, an old negress, apparently 80 years old, was the next witness. She said she heard old Uncle Tom cry murder, and rushed out of her house on the rear of the lot to see what was the matter. The details ,.r the finding as told by the coachman were corroborated by the negress. Mr. Sutties was then asked to take the stand. In brief he stated that he was passing the home of Major M'Lain when he heard loud voices talking in a very excited and bois- terous manner. He stepped and listened, and recognised the voice of Colonel Mashburn. "Are you positive it was the voice of Colonel Mashburn?" asked the counsel for the defence. "I would kno.w the voice anywhere if I were to hear it. I swea.r positively that it was Colonel Mashburn and Major M'Lain whom j I heard quarrelling in the room." j '"What time was that?" j 'Tt was half-past nine o'clock," replied the I witness. Here the State rested its case, and the defencs I announced that no testimony would be intro-! I dueed, and that Colonel Mashburn would make i a statement, when argument would be waived and the judge would be asked to charge tne j jury. As Colonel Mashburn mounted the stand all eyes were turned upon him. The judge rapped for order and the bailiff motioned for silence. 'T stand before you to-day perfectly innocent of the crime with which I am charged," said Colonel Mashburn, in a voice trembling with emotion. "1 alll as innocent as a new-born babe or the purest angel in heaven. I spent two hours in the library with Major M'Lain, durino- which time we quarrelled over the land lot line. Several blows were exchanged, and I left the house at a quarter to twelve o'clock, and strollt d about- the fields. At about twelve o'clock I heard the report of a gun, and I be- lieve the report I heard was the discharge of the gun that killed him. I know my case is desperate. Circumstantial evidence has already convicted me. and I have given up all hope. I am prepared for anything that may come." Is that all you have to say?" asked Judge Lewis. "That is all." The jury was out just five minutes, and re- turned with a verdict of guilty. A deathlike stillness pervaded the audience. The spectators craned their necks to hear the sentence of death. I The solemn words fell from the lips of the judge, and with downcast head and trembling forui the doomed man received the sentence that meant to him more than tongue can tell or words express. The execution was to be private, and the tune for the expiation of the crime was set for June 5, just 30 days from the date of trial. More like a, shadow than a man. Colonel Mashburn was led from the courtroom and carried to the murderer's cell of the gaol. As he leaned heavily upon the >aml of the Sheriff, the sympathy of the entire crowd was with him. Though the evidence against him I was too strong to admit of doubt, there were a great many who wished he had been ac- quitted. His very look appealed to them, and many eyes were wet with tears of tiym- pathy ct-nd gen.uine sorrow. Late in the afternoon of June 4 a stranger called at thwgaol and asked to be alloweu to fee Colonel Mashburn. He was refused admittance, as the Colonel told the gaoler to let ao one in to see him. The stranger wa.s persistent, and said that his mission wad one of great- importance to the Colonel. of great- importance to the Colonel. I The turnkey closely inspected the stranger. H;) was dresed in a checked business suit, and had the pp ar.ince of being :1; commer- cial man. There was a peculiar meaning in his eyes and ax. air of ditguified command. The gaoler hesitated, but the little man in the checked suit placed hits hind upon the officer's shouldrT, and, looking him squarely j in the face, sa d: "\Jy business with Colonel Ma-Viburn is most urgent. As surely as you live, he is an innocent man. The gaoler became interested,. ''Colonel Ma-hburn did not kill Major M'Lain," oontinutd the stianger. "Of tl1" I am assured, and if there is a possibility of sn.vlr.g his lafe I am going to make every effort.. I am convinced' he is an innocent man." Without any further persuasion, the little man was admitted to the corridor and directed to the cell of the condemned man. Colonel Mashburn w:s staring out of the window. Through the heavy barred opening the ruddy glow of the sunset was streaming in. The din of the village street had subsided, and on the still evening air the deep inekow tones of the bell were calling the worshippers to vesper (service. When Colonel Mashburn heard the rappingùpoJl his grated tioor he started, then slowly looked around. The stranger beckoned him to the door. For several minutes the two were engaged in (earnest conversation. Then th'e stranger turned on his heel and walked rapidly frum the prison. That evening just at dusk the old coach- man timidly stared from the door of the ser- vants' house in the rear of Major M'Lain's heme. '.Hie faithful dogs were barking lustily. Some one ailed at the gate, and the super- stitious darky closed the door. 'Pears things air pow'ful curious. They sho is. Dis here'er a hollerin' at night am a bad sign. I's ben a feelin' mighty queer and powerful skittish since Ma rater done dead, said the coachman to the cook. The stranger at the gate passed through tho arches and walked briskly through the front enclosure. Going up to the steps he rapped loudly. The echoes rumbled through the de- serted hall and came back increased a thousand fold. No one responded, and he pushed tiie door open aud went in. The halls were deserted I and the place was forlorn. Weeks had passed since, the fotsteps of a. human being had trodden I the threshold, and now in the w-st gathering twilight the old home was gloomy and for- bidding. The new-comer parsed through the halss and èntered the library where Major M'Lain had been found in the cold embrace of death. In the doorway was the chair in which he was fitting v.hen found. A gentle braeze that came through the open window played with the lace curtains and faiuied the tall grasses that stood in the vases on the old-fasluoned mantel. The room was strangely weird, and the feelings of the tnir.vited guest, were diffi- cult to be described. The newcomer rummaged through the papers and desk of Major M'Lain. Everything that might throw some light on the mysterious crime was examined, but nothing was found that would give the slightest clue to the identity of the murderer. For hours the man continued the search, but his mission appeared to be fruitless. Under the dim rays of the new moon he made a careful search of the premises, and surveyed the surroundings, hoping that his quick eye would fall upon something that would bring the truth. Wearied from his continued search, the tective fell asleep on the lounge in the library. The next morning he awoke at nine o'clock. The morning dun was streaming tlirough the open windows and the room was flooded with light. The detective turned over and gazed at the furniture and other objects in the room. His thoughts were busy, and he was thinking of the scene that would transpire in Abondale in just three hours. The scaffold, grim and stern, and the trembling body of the colonel Hashed through his mind. It was the day of the execution and only a few hours off. While the detective thought, his eyes followed a small bail of tire that danced and darted ba"-k and forth on the wall. It was a tiny red ball, but its -brilliancy and heat were intense. lie watched it as it played seemingly for his amuse- ment. Just under the spot covered by the little fiery ball he noticed :t charred place on the wall. What caused that? He revolved the question over and over again in his nund. Springing from his bed he rushed to the wall and held a match under the quivering piece of living fire that played about like a serpent's tongue. Quickly the match flared. The de- tective was nervous and his brain wa" on iire. Uh the wall were two stags' horns at equad distance. Evidently t.hey had served as sup- port for a gun. Going to the door he called the old coachman. The negro went into the room with his teeth chattering and his eyes were diluted with s ■'ners'ditious fear. "Where is the gun t'hat hung on these lwrns;" asked the detectiive. The coachman was gone for a moment, and returned will an old army rifle. The coarh- man said th:¡ t he Imd taken, it down from the rack on the morning that his master was or killed, a is the gun was highly prized, and placed it in his room for safe-keeping. The gun was re-loaded an,d placed on the horns. This little ball of fire, which was but the concentrated rays of the sun thrown through a. bluster in the glass of the window, danced about the powder pan of the old flint lock.. The detective placed a pillow in the chair in which Major M'Lain had been found mur- dered. Then he waited. With a fhsh of fire that half-way reached to the pillow and a report that awakened the echoes of the old mansion, the gun was dis- l charged. T'lrough the cenfre of the pillow a bullet wais buried). The detective looked at hiis wat:-h. It was twelve o'clock. The drop fell in Abondale, ton miles away, at high noon. and Colonel Mashburn was pronounced dead in twelve minutes. The funeral procession was interrupted by a stranger dashing madly on a foaming horfie. The Sheriff looked in astonishment ait the reckless rider. The old turnkey at the gaol wiped a tear from his eye, and went back to feed the prisoners.

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