Harper's Round Table, May 21, 1895 Part 5

Gabriella stopped crying, and answered, "Because if that boy had got away with the banana, and I did not have a penny for it, my father would have whipped me."

Then to the great astonishment of Danny, Gabriella took a banana from the stand and offered it to him. Danny laughed outright at this, and exclaimed:

"Den if you haven't a penny t' show for de banana, your father will whip you just de same wedder de banana is stolen or you give it away to me.

Won't he?"

Gabriella laughed too, now, and said, "Yes, but I'm willing to take a whipping for you, because you whipped that boy for me."

But Danny said he guessed he would rather pay for the fruit, and they were laughing and chatting over the adventure in the most friendly way when Miss Barstow came up. They told her the story, and she seemed greatly pleased. She told Gabriella that Danny was the boy who had helped take care of her and her mother the first night they were both sick with the fever.

"Then it was there I saw you before," Gabriella said to Danny, with delight. "I was not sure whether I had really seen you or just dreamed that I had."

"Well, you were doing a heap of dreaming dat night, sure," Danny answered.

"But you were a messenger-boy then," Miss Barstow said to Danny. "How is it you happen to be here and not in your uniform?"

"Oh, I'm Mr. Kean's office-boy now," answered Danny. "I'm to be his clerk when I'm big enough."

This information seemed to give as much satisfaction to Miss Barstow as it did to Danny.

"I like that," Miss Barstow said, "for now Gabriella will have some one to look out for her when she is on watch."

"Dat's right; as long as I remember how t' fight she will. Sure," Danny replied, earnestly.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] The previous articles published in this series are "A Street-Waif's Luck," No. 792, "Danny Cahill, Newsboy," No. 803, "A Messenger-Boy's Adventure," No. 809.

SNOW-SHOES AND SLEDGES.

BY KIRK MUNROE.

CHAPTER XXIII.

LAW IN THE GOLD DIGGINGS.

The latest comer to Camp Forty Mile was not particularly anxious to attend the public meeting to which he was invited by Mr. Platt Riley.

Still he thought it better to do so rather than run the risk of offending his host, who was evidently a man of influence in the diggings. His overnight reflections having convinced him that this camp was not such a place as he had expected, and also that he might find greater safety elsewhere, his first act in the morning was to order his Indian drivers to harness the dogs, and be prepared for a start within an hour.

Kurilla, who was with them under instructions not to lose sight of them, grinned when he heard this, for he had picked up an inkling of what was going on, and felt pretty certain that the order need not be obeyed.

When Mr. Riley's reluctant guest entered the store of the Yukon Trading Company, in which, on account of its size, the meeting was to be held, he fully intended to take a back seat, and slip out as soon as he could do so unnoticed. The place was so filled with miners, however, that there were no back seats, and, to his surprise, the crowd pressed aside as he and Mr. Riley entered, so as to leave a pa.s.sage to the farther end of the room. A moment later, without knowing just how it had been done, he found himself seated beside Jalap Coombs's friend, Skiff Bettens, who obligingly made a place for him. He noticed with some curiosity that twelve men were seated on benches directly opposite to him, while all the rest of the crowd were standing. Between him and these men was an open s.p.a.ce, at the upper end of which were a table and a chair raised on a rude platform.

To this platform Mr. Platt Riley made his way, and seating himself in the chair, rapped on the table for silence. Then, rising, he said:

"Gentlemen of the jury and fellow-citizens, this court is now open for business, and I as its Judge, elected by your votes, am prepared to administer justice in accordance with your laws, and such verdicts as may be rendered by your jury."

"It is a court," thought Strengel, with a s.h.i.+ver.

"The case to be tried this morning," continued the Judge, "is one that touches the pocket, the life, and the honor of every miner in the Yukon Valley; for the prisoner at the bar is indicted on three separate counts as a thief, a murderer, and an unmitigated scoundrel. He has come into our camp under a false name and with a false story, after having attempted the destruction of a steamer that is bringing goods and machinery, of which we are greatly in need.

"He is charged with robbing and leaving helpless in the wilderness a man whom we all know and respect, and also with robbing and deserting while seriously ill his own companion who was on his way to visit us in behalf of our old-established trading company."

Strengel listened to these terrible words with an ever-increasing paleness and visible agitation. Finally, clapping a hand to his face as though seized with a sudden illness, he started to rise and leave the room.

"Sit down," ordered Skiff Bettens, in a low tone, at the same time jerking him back to his seat. Then the man knew that he was indeed a prisoner.

"To prove these serious charges," continued the Judge, "I am about to call several witnesses. At the same time the prisoner will be given the privilege of cross-questioning them and of pleading in his own behalf.

Mr. Philip Ryder."

At this summons Phil advanced from the farther end of the room, and the prisoner regarded him with undisguised amazement.

After answering the usual questions regarding his personality and business, Phil was asked if he knew the prisoner.

"I do," he answered.

"What is his name?"

"I understand that he now calls himself Bradwick; but a few months ago he went by the name of Strengel."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "THAT'S A LIE!" SHOUTED THE PRISONER, HOa.r.s.eLY.]

"That's a lie," shouted the prisoner, hoa.r.s.ely.

"Silence!" commanded the Judge. "Now, Mr. Ryder, tell the jury what you know concerning the accused from the time of your first meeting with him up to the present."

This Phil did as briefly as possible, and when he had finished the prisoner sprang to his feet, his face black with rage, and exclaimed: "Why should this fellow's story be believed rather than mine? Who knows anything about him, or even who he is? He was picked up in Bering Sea, drifting about in a stolen canoe. At St. Michaels he was known as a thief and brawler. I happen to know that he has been locked up in a Victoria police station, and I demand that his evidence be thrown out."

"That will do, sir," said the Judge. "I happen to know this young man and his family so well that I am willing to vouch for him if necessary.

Do you wish to question him? No. Then we will proceed. Mr. Serge Belcofsky."

Serge, of course, identified the prisoner as Strengel, and corroborated Phil's story in every detail.

"This ends the testimony on the first charge," announced the Judge, when Serge had finished and the prisoner sullenly declined to question him.

"In proof of the second charge, that of robbery and desertion, I call as a witness Mr. Jalap Coombs."

As the ex-mate of the _Seamew_ advanced to the stand the prisoner stared at him as though he were a ghost, nor could he imagine by what miracle this witness had reached Forty Mile in time to appear against him.

Jalap Coombs told his story in his own picturesque language, but in a perfectly straightforward manner, and without the slightest hesitation.

When he finished, the Judge questioned him very closely as to the amount of money given him by Mr. John Ryder, and the prices paid for various articles of his outfit at St. Michaels.

As a defense against this charge the prisoner claimed that Jalap Coombs had not been deserted by Simon Goldollar and himself, but had voluntarily turned back, and that the dogs they had left with him had run away to follow them much against their wishes. He also stated that they had taken the dogs and sledge back to the place where they last saw Jalap Coombs, but that they could not find him.

"They were not his dogs, anyway, Judge," he continued, "nor did he furnish any of our outfit, except a few provisions, most of which he traded to the Indians on his own account. This man Coombs was a sailor, supposed to be a deserter from some s.h.i.+p, and was loafing around St.