Eliot Gregory - "The Ways of Men"

Unkown - "The 1995 U.S. Congress Address Book [Revision B]"

Unknown - "The World English Bible (WEB): Ezekiel"

Kathleen Norris - "Sisters"

Ten Nights in a Bar Room

T >> T. S. Arthur >> Ten Nights in a Bar Room




"There's no one there," said he, returning to where I stood, and
we walked down-stairs together. On the landing, as we reached the
lower passage, we met Mrs. Slade. I had not, during this visit at
Cedarville, stood face to face with her before. Oh! what a wreck
she presented, with her pale, shrunken countenance, hollow,
lustreless eyes, and bent, feeble body. I almost shuddered as I
looked at her. What a haunting and sternly rebuking spectre she
must have moved, daily, before the eyes of her husband.

"Have you noticed Mr. Green about this morning"?" I asked.

"He hasn't come down from his room yet," she replied.

"Are you certain?" said my companion. "I knocked several times at
the door just now, but received no answer."

"What do you want with him?" asked Mrs. Slade, fixing her eyes
upon us.

"We are in search of Willy Hammond; and it has been suggested that
he was with Green."

"Knock twice lightly, and then three times more firmly," said Mrs.
Slade; and as she spoke, she glided past us with noiseless tread.

"Shall we go up together?"

I did not object; for, although I had no delegated right of
intrusion, my feelings were so much excited in the case, that I
went forward, scarcely reflecting on the propriety of so doing.

The signal knock found instant answer. The door was softly opened,
and the unshaven face of Simon Slade presented itself.

"Mr. Jacobs!" he said, with surprise in his tones. "Do you wish to
see me?"

"No, sir; I wish to see Mr. Green," and with a quick, firm
pressure against the door, he pushed it wide open. The same party
was there that I had seen on the night before,--Green, young
Hammond, Judge Lyman, and Slade. On the table at which the three
former were sitting, were cards, slips of paper, an ink-stand and
pens, and a pile of bank-notes. On a side-table, or, rather,
butler's tray, were bottles, decanters, and glasses.

"Judge Lyman! Is it possible?" exclaimed Mr. Jacobs, the name of
my companion. "I did not expect to find you here."

Green instantly swept his hands over the table to secure the money
and bills it contained; but, ere he had accomplished his purpose,
young Hammond grappled three or four narrow strips of paper, and
hastily tore them into shreds.

"You're a cheating scoundrel!" cried Green, fiercely, thrusting
his hand into his bosom as if to draw from thence a weapon; but
the words were scarcely uttered, ere Hammond sprung upon him with
the fierceness of a tiger, bearing him down upon the floor. Both
hands were already about the gambler's neck, and, ere the
bewildered spectators could interfere, and drag him off. Green was
purple in the face, and nearly strangled.

"Call me a cheating scoundrel!" said Hammond, foaming at the
mouth, as he spoke,--"Me, whom you have followed like a thirsty
blood-hound. Me! whom you have robbed, and cheated, and debased
from the beginning! Oh! for a pistol to rid the earth of the
blackest-hearted villain that walks its surface. Let me go,
gentlemen! I have nothing left in the world to care for,--there is
no consequence I fear. Let me do society one good service before T
die'"

And, with one vigorous effort, he swept himself clear of the hands
that were pinioning him, and sprung again upon the gambler with
the fierce energy of a savage beast. By this time, Green had got
his knife free from its sheath, and, as Hammond was closing upon
him in his blind rage, plunged it into his side. Quick almost as
lightning, the knife was withdrawn, and two more stabs inflicted
ere we could seize and disarm the murderer. As we did so, Willy
Hammond fell over with a deep groan, the blood flowing from his
side.

In the terror and excitement that followed, Green rushed from the
room. The doctor, who was instantly summoned, after carefully
examining the wound, and the condition of the unhappy young man,
gave it as his opinion that he was fatally injured.

Oh! the anguish of the father, who had quickly heard of the
dreadful occurrence, when this announcement was made. I never saw
such fearful agony in any human countenance. The calmest of all
the anxious group was Willy himself. On his father's face his eyes
were fixed as if by a kind of fascination.

"Are you in much pain, my poor boy!" sobbed the old man, stooping
over him, until his long white hair mingled with the damp locks of
the sufferer.

"Not much, father," was the whispered reply. "Don't speak of this
to mother, yet. I'm afraid it will kill her."

What could the father answer? Nothing! And he was silent.

"Does she know of it?" A shadow went over his face.

Mr. Hammond shook his head.

Yet, even as he spoke, a wild cry of distress was heard below.
Some indiscreet person had borne to the ears of the mother the
fearful news about her son, and she had come wildly flying toward
the tavern, and was just entering.

"It is my poor mother," said Willy, a flush coming into his pale
face. "Who could have told her of this?"

Mr. Hammond started for the door, but ere he had reached it, the
distracted mother entered.

"Oh! Willy, my boy! my boy!" she exclaimed, in tones of anguish
that made the heart shudder. And she crouched down on the floor,
the moment she reached the bed whereon he lay, and pressed her
lips--oh, so tenderly and lovingly!--to his.

"Dear mother! Sweet mother! Best of mothers!" He even smiled as he
said this; and, into the face now bent over him, looked up with
glances of unutterable fondness.

"Oh, Willy! Willy! Willy! my son, my son!" And again her lips were
laid closely to his.

Mr. Hammond now interfered, and endeavored to remove his wife,
fearing for the consequence upon his son.

"Don't, father!" said Willy; "let her remain. I am not excited nor
disturbed. I am glad that she is here, now. It will be best for us
both."

"You must not excite him, dear," said Mr. Hammond--"he is very
weak."

"I'll not excite him," answered the mother. "I'll not speak a
word. There, love"--and she laid her fingers softly upon the lips
of her son--"don't speak a single word."

For only a few moments did she sit with the quiet formality of a
nurse, who feels how much depends on the repose of her patient.
Then she began weeping, moaning, and wringing her hands.

"Mother!" The feeble voice of Willy stilled, instantly, the
tempest of feeling. "Mother, kiss me!"

She bent down and kissed him.

"Are you there, mother?" His eyes moved about, with a straining
motion.

"Yes, love, here I am."

"I don't see you, mother. It's getting so dark. Oh, mother!
mother!" he shouted suddenly, starting up and throwing himself
forward upon her bosom--"save me! save me!"

How quickly did the mother clasp her arms around him--how eagerly
did she strain him to her bosom! The doctor, fearing the worst
consequences, now came forward, and endeavored to release the arms
of Mrs. Hammond, but she resisted every attempt to do so.

"I will save you, my son," she murmured in the ear of the young
man. "Your mother will protect you. Oh! if you had never left her
side, nothing on earth could have done you harm."

"He is dead!" I heard the doctor whisper; and a thrill of horror
went through me. The words reached the ears of Mr. Hammond, and
his groan was one of almost mortal agony.

"Who says he is dead?" came sharply from the lips of the mother,
as she pressed the form of her child back upon the bed from which
he had sprung to her arms, and looked wildly upon his face. One
long scream of horror told of her convictions, and she fell,
lifeless, across the body of her dead son!

All in the room believed that Mrs. Hammond had only fainted. But
the doctor's perplexed, troubled countenance, as he ordered her
carried into another apartment, and the ghastliness of her face
when it was upturned to the light, suggested to every one what
proved to be true. Even to her obscured perceptions, the
consciousness that her son was dead came with a terrible
vividness--so terrible, that it extinguished her life.

Like fire among dry stubble ran the news of this fearful event
through Cedarville. The whole town was wild with excitement. The
prominent fact, that Willy Hammond had been murdered by Green,
whose real profession was known by many, and now declared to all,
was on every tongue; but a hundred different and exaggerated
stories as to the cause and the particulars of the event were in
circulation. By the time preparations to remove the dead bodies of
mother and son from the "Sickle and Sheaf" to the residence of Mr.
Hammond were completed, hundreds of people, men, women, and
children, were assembled around the tavern and many voices were
clamorous for Green; while some called out for Judge Lyman, whose
name, it thus appeared, had become associated in the minds of the
people with the murderous affair. The appearance, in the midst of
this excitement, of the two dead bodies, borne forth on settees,
did not tend to allay the feverish state of indignation that
prevailed. From more than one voice, I heard the words, "Lynch the
scoundrel!"

A part of the crowd followed the sad procession, while the greater
portion, consisting of men, remained about the tavern. All bodies,
no matter for what purpose assembled, quickly find leading spirits
who, feeling the great moving impulse, give it voice and
direction. It was so in this case. Intense indignation against
Green was firing every bosom; and when a man elevated himself a
few feet above the agitated mass of humanity, and cried out:

"The murderer must not escape!"

A wild responding shout, terrible in its fierceness, made the air
quiver.

"Let ten men be chosen to search the house and premises," said the
leading spirit.

"Ay! ay! Choose them! Name them!" was quickly answered.

Ten men were called by name, who instantly stepped in front of the
crowd.

"Search everywhere; from garret to cellar; from hayloft to dog-
kennel. Everywhere! everywhere!" cried the man.

And instantly the ten men entered the house. For nearly a quarter
of an hour, the crowd waited with increasing signs of impatience.
These delegates at length appeared, with the announcement that
Green was nowhere about the premises. It was received with a
groan.

"Let no man in Cedarville do a stroke of work until the murderer
is found," now shouted the individual who still occupied his
elevated position.

"Agreed! agreed! No work in Cedarville until the murderer is
found," rang out fiercely.

"Let all who have horses saddle and bridle them as quickly as
possible, and assemble, mounted, at the Court House."

About fifty men left the crowd hastily.

"Let the crowd part in the centre, up and down the road, starting
from a line in front of me."

This order was obeyed.

"Separate again, taking the centre of the road for a line."

Four distinct bodies of men stood now in front of the tavern.

"Now search for the murderer in every nook and corner, for a
distance of three miles from this spot; each party keeping to its
own section; the road being one dividing line, and a line through
the centre of this tavern the other. The horsemen will pursue the
wretch to a greater distance."

More than a hundred acquiescing voices responded to this, as the
man sprung down from his elevation and mingled with the crowd,
which began instantly to move away on its appointed mission.

As the hours went by, one, and another, and another, of the
searching party returned to the village, wearied with their
efforts, or confident that the murderer had made good his escape.
The horsemen, too, began to come in, during the afternoon, and by
sundown, the last of them, worn out and disappointed, made their
appearance.

For hours after the exciting events of the forenoon, there were
but few visitors at the "Sickle and Sheaf." Slade, who did not
show himself among the crowd, came down soon after its dispersion.
He had shaved and put on clean linen; but still bore many
evidences of a night spent without sleep. His eyes were red and
heavy and the eyelids swollen; while his skin was relaxed and
colorless. As he descended the stairs, I was walking in the
passage. He looked shy at me, and merely nodded. Guilt was written
plainly on his countenance; and with it was blended anxiety and
alarm. That he might be involved in trouble, he had reason to
fear; for he was one of the party engaged in gambling in Green's
room, as both Mr. Jacobs and I had witnessed.

"This is dreadful business," said he, as we met, face to face,
half an hour afterward. He did not look me steadily in the eyes.

"It is horrible!" I answered. "To corrupt and ruin a young man,
and then murder him! There are few deeds in the catalogue of crime
blacker than this!"

"It was done in the heat of passion," said the landlord, with
something of an apology in his manner. "Green never meant to kill
him."

"In peaceful intercourse with his fellow-men, why did he carry a
deadly weapon? There was murder in his heart, sir."

"That is speaking very strongly."

"Not stronger than the facts will warrant," I replied. "That Green
is a murderer in heart, it needed not this awful consummation to
show. With a cool, deliberate purpose, he has sought, from the
beginning, to destroy young Hammond."

"It is hardly fair," answered Slade, "in the present feverish
excitement against Green, to assume such a questionable position.
It may do him a great wrong."

"Did Willy Hammond speak only idle words, when he accused Green of
having followed him like a thirsty bloodhound?--of having robbed,
and cheated, and debased him from the beginning?"

"He was terribly excited at the moment."

"Yes," said I, "no ear that heard his words could for an instant
doubt that they were truthful utterances, wrung from a maddened
heart."

My earnest, positive manner had its effect upon Slade. He knew
that what I asserted, the whole history of Green's intercourse
with young Hammond would prove; and he had, moreover, the guilty
consciousness of being a party to the young man's ruin. His eyes
cowered beneath the steady gaze I fixed upon him. I thought of him
as one implicated in the murder, and my thoughts must have been
visible in my face.

"One murder will not justify another," said he.

"There is no justification for murder on any plea," was my
response.

"And yet, if these infuriated men find Green, they will murder
him."

"I hope not. Indignation at a horrible crime has fearfully excited
the people. But I think their sense of justice is strong enough to
prevent the consequences you apprehend."

"I would not like to be in Green's shoes," said the landlord, with
an uneasy movement.

I looked him closely in the face. It was the punishment of the
man's crime that seemed so fearful in his eyes; not the crime
itself. Alas! how the corrupting traffic had debased him.

My words were so little relished by Slade, that he found some
ready excuse to leave me. I saw little more of him during the day.

As evening began to fall, the gambler's unsuccessful pursuers, one
after another, found their way to the tavern, and by the time
night had fairly closed in, the bar-room was crowded with excited
and angry men, chafing over their disappointment, and loud in
their threats of vengeance. That Green had made good his escape,
was now the general belief; and the stronger this conviction
became, the more steadily did the current of passion begin to set
in a new direction. It had become known to every one that, besides
Green and young Hammond, Judge Lyman and Slade were in the room
engaged in playing cards. The merest suggestion as to the
complicity of these two men with Green in ruining Hammond, and
thus driving him mad, was enough to excite strong feelings against
them; and now that the mob had been cheated out of its victim, its
pent-up indignation sought eagerly some new channel.

"Where's Slade?" some one asked, in a loud voice, from the centre
of the crowded bar-room. "Why does he keep himself out of sight?"

"Yes; where's the landlord?" half a dozen voices responded.

"Did he go on the hunt?" some one inquired.

"No!" "No!" "No!" ran around the room. "Not he."

"And yet, the murder was committed in his own house, and before
his own eyes!"

"Yes, before his own eyes!" repeated one and another, indignantly.

"Where's Slade? Where's the landlord? Has anybody seen him
tonight? Matthew, where's Simon Slade?"

From lip to lip passed these interrogations; while the crowd of
men became agitated, and swayed to and fro.

"I don't think he's home," answered the bar-keeper, in a
hesitating manner, and with visible alarm.

"How long since he was here?"

"I haven't seen him for a couple of hours."

"That's a lie!" was sharply said.

"Who says it's a lie?" Matthew affected to be strongly indignant.

"I do!" And a rough, fierce-looking man confronted him.

"What right have you to say so?" asked Matthew, cooling off
considerably.

"Because you lie!" said the man, boldly. "You've seen him within a
less time than half an hour, and well you know it. Now, if you
wish to keep yourself out of this trouble, answer truly. We are in
no mood to deal with liars or equivocators. Where is Simon Slade?"

"I do not know," replied Matthew, firmly.

"Is he in the house?"

"He may be, or he may not be. I am just as ignorant of his exact
whereabouts as you are."

"Will you look for him?"

Matthew stepped to the door, opening from behind the bar, and
called the name of Frank.

"What's wanted?" growled the boy.

"Is your father in the house?"

"I don't know, nor don't care," was responded in the same
ungracious manner.

"Someone bring him into the bar-room, and we'll see if we can't
make him care a little."

The suggestion was no sooner made, than two men glided behind the
bar, and passed into the room from whence the voice of Frank had
issued. A moment after they reappeared, each grasping an arm of
the boy, and bearing him like a weak child between them. He looked
thoroughly frightened at this unlooked-for invasion of his
liberty.

"See here, young man." One of the leading spirits of the crowd
addressed him, as soon as he was brought in front of the counter.
"If you wish to keep out of trouble, answer our questions at once,
and to the point. We are in no mood for trifling. Where's your
father?"

"Somewhere about the house, I believe," Frank replied, in an
humble tone. He was no little scared at the summary manner with
which he had been treated.

"How long since you saw him?"

"Not long ago."

"Ten minutes."

"No; nearly half an hour."

"Where was he then?"

"He was going up-stairs."

"Very well, we want him. See him, and tell him so."

Frank went into the house, but came back into the bar-room after
an absence of nearly five minutes, and said that he could not find
his father anywhere.

"Where is he then?" was angrily demanded.

"Indeed, gentlemen, I don't know." Frank's anxious look and
frightened manner showed that he spoke truly.

"There's something wrong about this--something wrong--wrong," said
one of the men. "Why should he be absent now? Why has he taken no
steps to secure the man who committed a murder in his own house,
and before his own eyes?

"I shouldn't wonder if he aided him to escape," said another,
making this serious charge with a restlessness and want of
evidence that illustrated the reckless and unjust spirit by which
the mob is ever governed.

"No doubt of it in the least!" was the quick and positive
response. And at once this erroneous conviction seized upon every
one. Not a single fact was presented. The simple, bold assertion,
that no doubt existed in the mind of one man as to Slade's having
aided Green to escape, was sufficient for the unreflecting mob.

"Where is he? Where is he? Let us find him. He knows where Green
is, and he shall reveal the secret."

This was enough. The passions of the crowd were at fever heat
again. Two or three men were chosen to search the house and
premises, while others dispersed to take a wider range. One of the
men who volunteered to go over the house was a person named Lyon,
with whom I had formed some acquaintance, and several times
conversed with on the state of affairs in Cedarville. He still
remained too good a customer at the bar. I left the bar at the
same time that he did, and went up to my room. We walked side by
side, and parted at my door, I going in, and he continuing on to
make his searches. I felt, of course, anxious and much excited, as
well in consequence of the events of the day, as the present
aspect of things. My head was aching violently, and in the hope of
getting relief, I laid myself down. I had already lighted a
candle, and turned the key in my door to prevent intrusion. Only
for a short time did I lie, listening to the hum of voices that
came with a hoarse murmur from below, to the sound of feet moving
along the passages, and to the continual opening and shutting of
doors, when something like suppressed breathing reached my ears, I
started up instantly, and listened; but my quickened pulses were
now audible to my own sense, and obscured what was external.

"It is only imagination," I said to myself. Still, I sat upright,
listening.

Satisfied, at length, that all was mere fancy, I laid myself back
on the pillow, and tried to turn my thoughts away from the
suggested idea that some one was in the room. Scarcely had I
succeeded in this, when my heart gave a new impulse, as a sound
like a movement fell upon my ears.

"Mere fancy!" I said to myself, as some one went past the door at
the moment. "My mind is overexcited."

Still I raised my head, supporting it with my hand, and listened,
directing my attention inside, and not outside of the room. I was
about letting my head fall back upon the pillow, when a slight
cough, so distinct as not to be mistaken, caused me to spring to
the floor, and look under the bed. The mystery was explained. A
pair of eyes glittered in the candlelight. The fugitive, Green,
was under my bed. For some moments I stood looking at him, so
astonished that I had neither utterance nor decision; while he
glared at me with a fierce defiance. I saw that he was clutching a
revolver.

"Understand!" he said, in a grating whisper, "that I am not to be
taken alive."

I let the blanket, which had concealed him from view, fall from my
hand, and then tried to collect my thoughts.

"Escape is impossible," said I, again lifting the temporary
curtain by which he was hid. "The whole town is armed, and on the
search; and should you fall into the hands of the mob, in its
present state of exasperation, your life would not be safe an
instant. Remain, then, quiet, where you are, until I can see the
sheriff, to whom you had better resign yourself, for there's
little chance for you except under his protection."

After a brief parley he consented that things should take this
course, and I went out, locking the room door after me, and
started in search of the sheriff. On the information I gave, the
sheriff acted promptly. With five officers, fully armed for
defence, in case an effort were made to get the prisoner out of
their hands, he repaired immediately to the "Sickle and Sheaf." I
had given the key of my room into his possession.

The appearance of the sheriff, with his posse, was sufficient to
start the suggestion that Green was somewhere concealed in the
house; and a suggestion was only needed to cause the fact to be
assumed, and unhesitatingly declared. Intelligence went through
the reassembling crowd like an electric current, and ere the
sheriff could manacle and lead forth his prisoner, the stairway
down which he had to come was packed with bodies, and echoing with
oaths and maledictions.

"Gentlemen, clear the way!" cried the sheriff, as he appeared with
the white and trembling culprit at the head of the stairs. "The
murderer is now in the hands of the law, and will meet the sure
consequences of his crime."

A shout of execration rent the air; but not a single individual
stirred.

"Give way, there! Give way!" And the sheriff took a step or two
forward, but the prisoner held back.

"Oh, the murdering villain! The cursed blackleg! Where's Willy
Hammond?" was heard distinctly above the confused mingling of
voices.

"Gentlemen! the law must have its course; and no good citizen will
oppose the law. It is made for your protection--for mine--and for
that of the prisoner."

"Lynch law is good enough for him," shouted a savage voice. "Hand
him over to us, sheriff, and we'll save you the trouble of hanging
him, and the county the cost of the gallows. We'll do the business
right."

Five men, each armed with a revolver, now ranged themselves around
the sheriff, and the latter said firmly:

"It is my duty to see this man safely conveyed to prison; and I'm
going to do my duty. If there is any more blood shed here, the
blame will rest with you." And the body of officers pressed
forward, the mob slowly retreating before them.

Green, overwhelmed with terror, held back. I was standing where I
could see his face. It was ghastly with mortal fear. Grasping his
pinioned arms, the sheriff forced him onward. After contending
with the crowd for nearly ten minutes, the officers gained the
passage below; but the mob was denser here, and blocking up the
door, resolutely maintained their position.

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