The girl, who sat within three feet of Cartwright, having followed the
old man almost to the witness-stand, rose timidly, drew her shawl closer
about her shoulders, and took the seat vacated by Bud's father. She had
that half-fed look in her face which one sometimes finds in the women of
the mountain-districts. She was frightened and very pale. As she pushed
her poke-bonnet back from her ears her unkempt brown hair fell about
her neck.
But Tilden, at mention of her name, half-started from his chair and
would have risen to his feet had not the officer laid his hand upon him.
He seemed on the point of making some protest which the action of the
officer alone restrained.
Cartwright, after the oath had been administered, began in a voice so
low that the jury stretched their necks to listen:
"Miss Moore, do you know the prisoner?"
"Yes, sir, I know Bud." She had one end of the shawl between her fingers
and was twisting it aimlessly. Every eye in the room was fastened
upon her.
"How long have you known him?"
There was a pause, and then she said in a faint voice:
"Ever since he and me growed up."
"Ever since you and he grew up, eh?" This repetition was in a loud
voice, so that any juryman dull of hearing might catch it. "Was he at
your house on the night of the robbery?"
"Yes, sir."
"At what time?"
"'Bout ten o'clock." This was again repeated.
"How long did he stay?"
"Not more'n ten minutes."
"Where did he go then?"
"He said he was goin' home."
"How far is it to his home from your house?"
"'Bout ten minutes' walk."
"That will do, Miss Moore," said Cartwright, and took his seat.
The Government prosecutor, who had sat with shoulders hunched up, his
wings pulled in, rose to his feet with the aid of a chair-back,
stretched his long arms above his head, and then, lowering one hand
level with the girl's face, said, as he thrust one sharp, skinny finger
toward her:
"Did anybody else come to see you the next night after the robbery?"
There was a pause, during which Cartwright busied himself with his
papers. One of his methods was never to seem interested in the
cross-examination of any one of his witnesses.
The girl's face flushed, and she began to fumble the shawl nervously
with her fingers.
"Yes, Hank Halliday," she murmured, in a low voice.
"Mr. Halliday, who has testified here?"
"Yes, sir."
"What did he want?"
"He wanted to know if I'd got a letter he'd writ me day before. And I
tol' him I hadn't. Then he 'lowed he'd a-brought it to me himself if
he'd knowed Bud was goin' to turn thief and hold up the mail-man. I
hadn't heard nothin' 'bout it and nobody else had till he began to talk.
I opened the door then and tol' him to walk out; that I wouldn't hear
nobody speak that way 'bout Bud Tilden. That was 'fore they'd
'rested Bud."
"Have you got that letter now?"
"No, sir."
"Did you ever get it?"
"No, sir."
"Did you ever see it?"
"No, and I don't think it was ever writ."
"But he _has_ written you letters before?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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