The tone of Marmaduke was mild and insinuating, and, as his sentiments were given with such apparent impartiality, they did not fail of carrying due weight with the jury.
The grave-looking yeomen who composed this tribunal laid their heads together for a few minutes, without leaving the box, when the foreman arose, and, after the forms of the court were duly observed, he pronounced the prisoner to be
“Not guilty.”
“You are acquitted of this charge, Nathaniel Bumppo,” said the Judge.
“Anan!” said Natty.
“You are found not guilty of striking and assaulting Mr. Doolittle.”
“No, no, I’ll not deny but that I took him a little roughly by the shoulders,” said Natty, looking about him with great simplicity, “and that I—”
“You are acquitted,” interrupted the Judge, “and there is nothing further to be said or done in the matter.”
A look of joy lighted up the features of the old man, who now comprehended the case, and, placing his cap eagerly on his head again, he threw up the bar of his little prison, and said, feelingly:
“I must say this for you, Judge Temple, that the law has not been so hard on me as I dreaded.
I hope God will bless you for the kind things you’ve done to me this day.”
But the staff of the constable was opposed to his egress, and Mr. Lippet whispered a few words in his ear, when the aged hunter sank back into his place, and, removing his cap, stroked down the remnants of his gray and sandy locks, with an air of mortification mingled with submission.
“Mr. District Attorney,” said Judge Temple, affecting to busy himself with his minutes, “proceed with the second indictment.”
Mr. Van der School took great care that no part of the presentment, which he now read, should be lost on his auditors.
It accused the prisoner of resisting the execution of a search-warrant, by force of arms, and particularized in the vague language of the law, among a variety of other weapons, the use of the rifle.
This was indeed a more serious charge than an ordinary assault and battery, and a corresponding degree of interest was manifested by the spectators in its result.
The prisoner was duly arraigned, and his plea again demanded. Mr. Lippet had anticipated the answers of Natty, and in a whisper advised him how to plead.
But the feelings of the old hunter were awakened by some of the expressions in the indictment, and, forgetful of his caution, he exclaimed:
“‘Tis a wicked untruth; I crave no man’s blood.
Them thieves, the Iroquois, won’t say it to any face that I ever thirsted after man’s blood, I have fou’t as soldier that feared his Maker and his officer, but I never pulled trigger on any but a warrior that was up and awake.
No man can say that I ever struck even a Mingo in his blanket.
I believe there’s some who thinks there’s no God in a wilder ness!”
“Attend to your plea, Bumppo,” said the Judge; “you hear that you are accused of using your rifle against an officer of justice?
Are you guilty or not guilty?”
By this time the irritated feelings of Natty had found vent: and he rested on the bar for a moment, in a musing posture, when he lifted his face, with his silent laugh, and, pointing to where the wood-chopper stood, he said:
“Would Billy Kirby be standing there, d’ye think, if I had used the rifle?” “Then you deny it,” said Mr. Lippet; “you plead not guilty?”
“Sartain,” said Natty;
“Billy knows that I never fired at all.
Billy, do you remember the turkey last winter?
Ah me! that was better than common firing; but I can’t shoot as I used to could.”
“Enter the plea of not guilty,” said Judge Temple, strongly affected by the simplicity of the prisoner.
Hiram was again sworn, and his testimony given on the second charge.
He had discovered his former error, and proceeded more cautiously than before.
He related very distinctly and, for the man, with amazing terseness, the suspicion against the hunter, the complaint, the issuing of the warrant, and the swearing in of Kirby; all of which, he affirmed, were done in due form of law.
He then added the manner in which the constable had been received; and stated, distinctly, that Natty had pointed the rifle at Kirby, and threatened his life if he attempted to execute his duty.
All this was confirmed by Jotham, who was observed to adhere closely to the story of the magistrate.
Mr. Lippet conducted an artful cross-examination of these two witnesses, but, after consuming much time, was compelled to relinquish the attempt to obtain any advantage, in despair.
At length the District Attorney called the wood-chopper to the bar, Billy gave an extremely confused account of the whole affair, although he evidently aimed at the truth, until Mr. Van der School aided him, by asking some direct questions:
“It appears from examining the papers, that you demanded admission into the hut legally; so you were put in bodily fear by his rifle and threats?”
“I didn’t mind them that, man,” said Billy, snapping his fingers; “I should be a poor stick to mind old Leather-Stocking.”
“But I understood you to say (referring to your previous words [as delivered here in court] in the commencement of your testimony) that you thought he meant to shoot you?”
“To be sure I did; and so would you, too, squire, if you had seen a chap dropping a muzzle that never misses, and cocking an eye that has a natural squint by long practice I thought there would be a dust on’t, and my back was up at once; but Leather-Stocking gi’n up the skin, and so the matter ended.”
“Ah! Billy,” said Natty, shaking his head, “‘twas a lucky thought in me to throw out the hide, or there might have been blood spilt; and I’m sure, if it had been your’n, I should have mourned it sorely the little while I have to stay.”
“Well, Leather-Stocking,” returned Billy, facing the prisoner with a freedom and familiarity that utterly disregarded the presence of the court, “as you are on the subject it may be that you’ve no—”
“Go on with your examination, Mr. District Attorney.”
That gentleman eyed the familiarity between his witness and the prisoner with manifest disgust, and indicated to the court that he was done.
“Then you didn’t feel frightened, Mr. Kirby?” said the counsel for the prisoner.
“Me! no,” said Billy, casting his eyes oven his own huge frame with evident self-satisfaction;
“I’m not to be skeared so easy.”
“You look like a hardy man; where were you born, sir?”