The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, November 29, 1903, Page 14

14 THE SUNDAY CALL. (Copyright, 1902, by Thomas Fitch.) HE old adobe courthouse at Pres- Arizona, was crowded, for the trial was one of unusual In- terest. The defendant, who was accused of murder, was & member of a wealthy fornia femily, who had placed him in charge of a range and a band of sheep In Arizona. He was a ¥young man of slight build and nervous temperament, who had shot and killed his neighbor—also a sheepherder. The deceased was a large, burly, quarrel- some man, who had often threatened the defendant with violence, but who was unarmed at the time of the homi- ¢ide, although this fact was unknown to the defendant, who fired the fatal shot under the influence of an irrational fear. Insanity was a difficult defense to establish, for at the time of the trial the defendant gave no sign of weak mentality, and for a year or more be- fore the shooting he had lived alone in a cabin in the mountains. Evidence was given that the paternal grand- father and & maternal aunt of the de- fendant had each been an inmate of an asylum for the insane, and that there had been three suicides in the family. But the insanity of the defencant him- self at the time of the shooting could only be inferentially shown, for there was no direct medical testimony obtainable, and non-expert witnesses could only testify to unusual acts of the defendant, and physiclans could then be permitted to give evidence whether such ac’s were indications of an unsound mipd. The case looked badly for the defend- ant when his counsel called to the #tand a white-haired man, who testi- fled that a few weeks before the homi- cott, |1 HE \wAS A YOUNG MEN OF SLIGHT BUILD AND NERVOUS TEMPERAMENT. cide he had been employed by defend- ant as a cook, and that he had worksd in that capacity until the day before the homicide, when he left and started on foot for Prescott. “Why did you leaye?” counsel for defendant. “Because my employer was crazy and I considered my life in danger,” was the reply. “Your honor, I object,” raid the Lic trict Attorney, “and I move to strika out the last answer of the witness. He is shown to be a cook and not a doctor, and cannot give an opinion as to the sanity or insanity of the defenaant.” “Motion sustained,” said :the court “Mr. Witness, you will testify merely as to facts and not'as to your opin- ions.” The old man bowed quieily in reply to the court and awaited the next ques- tion. “What facts,” was asked, ‘“‘caused you to consider your life in danger from the defendant?” “Well,” sald the witness, watched my employer closely, for he was often about the kitchen, where I was cooking. His eyes would often di- late and contract rapidly. He com- plained of headache, loss of sleep, pain in the head and eyeballs, flashes of light before the eyes and geiieral ex- haustion. He was melancholic. He ‘would suddenly become frightened and jump from his seat when the kettle boiled over. He evinced dislike and suspicion of all about him. He was rest- less, irritable and unable to apply his mind to the every day affairs of life. On the day I left I had roasted a leg of mutton for the noon dinner, and when he started to carve it he muttered to himself and instead of slicing the meat he thrust or stabbed it with the knife. saquired “I had- I concluded then that he was afflicted with idopathic mania that was likely to take a homicidal form, and after din- ner I departed on foot for the mext ranch, intending to return with assist- ance to take him to Prescott. The next day after I left the homicide occurred.” Everybody. listened with the deep- est interest and the cross-examination began. “Where did you learn so much about insane symptoms?” sneered the prgsecutor. “What doctor. has been cramming you?” “I have been crammed by & good many doctors during the last forty years,” was the reply. “You have been.employed, then, in an insane hos- pital at some time in you¥ life, I pre- 7" “I have,” rejoined the wit- “As nurse?” sald the lawyer. sir,” ° rejolned the witness. “‘Here,” sald the prosecutor, and taking from the table a text book on insanity he sald with a sneer: “Yours is the same name as the author of thig/work. Maybe you wrote 1t?" “Yes, sir.,” was the quiet reply. “I wrote it.” “Why.” said the surprised lawyer, “this book was written by a distinguished phy- siclan, who was for thirty years in charge vf an insane asylum. “I am the physician to whom you refer,” was the reply. “Then,” sald the lawyer, “unless you are an escaped lunatic yourself, will you tell me what you were doing out here in Arizona as cook on a sheep ranch?”’ ‘With some emotion the old man told his modest story. He had been xranted a year’s furlough to enable him to make a journey around the world. Ar- rived in San Francisco, he had been persuaded to invest all his availlable resources in a promising mining swin- dle and went to Arizona to examine his property. He found it absolutely worthless. He was ashamed to write home and tell what he had done. and he determined to work at anything that he could get to do until he could earn enough money to return, and so donning his cldest clothes he sought and obtained a position as cook on a sheep ranch. The jury, on the instructions of the court, acquitted the defendant without leaving their seats, and the old doc- tor, after refusing all compensation ex- cept his mileage and pay as a witness, bought a rallroad ticket with his sav- ings and departed East to resume his duties as physician in charge of an Eastern asylum. ‘The pair of them Bad crimsoned the “THE JUDGE" BURST . INTO A FLOOD OF TEARS AND REFUSED TO BE COMFORTFED.,. town of Phoenix. Another round was ordered. The purse of him who gave the order was empty and the barkeeper frowned. Whereupon the gentleman seated himself upon the floor, pulled off a shoe and stocking, extracted from the latter a twenty-dollar gold plece and settled the bill. Thereupon the other man, with drunken dignity, or- dered another round. “This,” said he. “is on me.” “But, Judge,” remonstrated the other, “your money is gone; let me pay.” “No, sir,” replied the Judge flercely, and “eating himself upon the floor he pulled off first one shoe and stocking and then the oter, but there was no money in either. Thereupon the “Judge” burst into a flood of tears and refused to be comforted. He could not. in his drunken condition, comprehend why he as well as his companion could not find gold pleces in pis socks. Dan Biggs kad a dog, who had been trained to catch things. The dog pos- sessed no marketable value, but Dan valued him above all things. Dan had passed one hour in the faro room and emerged devold of all money, save one twenty-dollar plece, which he retained for expenses. He invited the attendant around to take a drink, and, exclaim- ing, “There, boys, goes my last scad,” tossed the golden coin upon the bar. It rebounded and bn its way to the floor was caught—and swallowed—by the faithful dog. “Now I am In a fix.” #aid Dan. “Oh, you're all right, Mr. Biggs,” sald Moses Worthelmer. “T'll glve you eighteen dollars for your dog.” “Mr. Juror, how dare you appear be- fore the court in your shirt sleeves?” sald the newly appointed Judge of the Territorial court. “Have you no coat?” “Yes, your honor, but I thought—" “Never mind what you thought, this courtroom is not a stable. Where is your coat?” ‘At home, your honor—"* 4 “Well, go home and get it.” “But, your honor—" “That will do, sir; go home and get your coat.” The juror departed and was not seen for a week. The Judge had his eye on him, and, when he appeared, eald: “Your name has been called here sev- eral times, sir; why have you not an- swered to 1t?” “I went home for my coat, as you told me to do,” replied the juror. ‘“Where is your home, sir?” “At the Quiatoges, seventy miles from here, by stage.” ““Was It necessary for you to make so lengthy a journey? You ocould have bought or barrowed a coat here in Tuo- son, could you not?” “I thought s0,” replied the juror, “and I asked this lawyer here if it would not do for me to borrow a coat, and he sald that you was a tenderfoot, and & new man, and very strict; that you had come out herg to reform this yahoe bar; that you expected to be obeyed, and that after you told me to go homw and get my coat, if I should come in here with snother man’s coat on you would send me to jail for contempt of court, and so I went after my own coat down to the camp and back and travel- ing was hotter than the hinges of—I beg your pardon, Jedge, I came near speaking a cuss word.” The Judge joined in the roar of laughter that went up from bar and by- standers, and the juror was excused for the term. Ah Hay was as bright and as bland a Chii.rman as ever deluded a Caucasian. He is cooking now somewhere, either up or down stairs, in the sweet by and by, and wherever he may officlate they are faring well. As a caterer he was unsurpassed. He had one pro- nounced fault. He would occasionally gamble away the market money, but he always reported the loss promptly and had it deducted from his wages. Ah Hay did not consort much with China- men, and when sporting he preferred American faro to Chinese fan tan. The markets at Prescott, Arizona, were sup- plied with early vegetables and fruits from California, and between consign- ments were often bare. One summer afternoon Ah Hay re- turned from market with the unly cab- bage to be had. On his way home he stopped at the Gem saloon, staked two dollars he had left of the market money at Archie McBride’s game and lost it. “‘Archie” was a humorist as well as a faro dealer, and noticing the dejected face of the celestial sald: “What's the matter, Hay? Why don't you bet?"” i “Money all gone,” replied Hay. ‘““Well, you have vegetables, Hay,” sald Archie. “We need fresh vegeta- bles at our mess. Why don’t you bet your cabbage?” Hay, without more words, bet his AH HAY RETURNED FROM MARKET WITH THE ONLY CABBAGE TO BE HAD. cabbage on the seven. The seven “split” on the tirm, that is to say, two sevens carme out together, whick enti- tled the dealer to one-half of the stake. Archle teok out his pocket knife and reached for the cabbage . “No cut ‘em! No cut ‘em!” screamed Hay. “I pay you for half cabbage.” “You bet your life I'll cut "em,” said Archie. ‘‘One half of this cabbage will make a pice dish of cold slaw,” and amid laughter from all the onlookers, except Hay, the cabbage was cut, half of it deposited on the check rack and the other half handed to Hay, who was now thoroughly enraged. “‘Half cabbage no plenty for you, you take 'ém all,” said Hay. “I call the turn with ‘em." Now, when a player “calls the turn™ successfully he wins four times the amount of his bet. Hay was lucky and was therefore entitled to two cabbages. Archie passed back to Hay the half cabbage on the rack and said to him: “All right, Hay, I owe you a cabbage and a half; how much are they worth?” “I dunno,” sald Hay, sullenly, “I keep no vegetable stand. I'm a sport, same as you. You win cabbage, you tell me ¥ou no sell ‘em. Now, I win cabbage, I want cabbage, I no sell 'em.” “That's right, Hay,” said Archie, pleasantly; “here, Jim"—to his assist- ant—“go out and buy two of the best cabbages you can find, and we will set- tle with Hay.” After a few minutes Jim returned. “Archie,” said he, “that Chinaman has cornéred the market on us; there isn't 2 cabbage In Prescott and there won't be another fast freight wagon until to- morrow.” “Well, Hay will have to wait,” sald Archie. Up spoke Hay, amid the roars of the bystanders. “What kind of game you deal?” sald he, “you lose on credit and win for cash. When you win, you take; when you lose, say you to man who win, ‘Come around to-mollar.” Better you pay me mnow. Cabbages velly scarce. Cabbages gone up, gone up plenty, worth five dollars apiece now, in five minutes worth ten doilars. You 1like settle now, I take seven dollar hap; in five minutes twelve dolla hap. By uight you go bdloke, miaybe.” “Here,” sald Archia, “hers is sevs dollars and a half. You ought to go ts New York, Hay, and join the Stock Exchange.” Three days had been consumed in the examination of jurors on their voir dire, before Judge Fitzgerald, at Tuc- #on. Four venires had been landed in the box, for the homicide was one of wide notoriety and was clearly an Im- promptu duel -the offspring of an an- clent feud. “Have you formed or expressed an unqualified opinion as to the gullt or in- nocence of the accused?” sald the coun- sel. “I have,” replled the juror. “Challenged for cause,” sald the law- yer. “Is that opinion a fixed and d¢-=- cided one?” queried the District Attor- ney, “or would evidence change it?” “It is fixed and decided,” was the re- nd no evidence would re- “Was that opinion formed from anything you read in the news- papers questioned the prosecuting officer. “I never read anything about it In the papers,” answered the juror. “Was it formed from hearing a state- ment of what purported to be the facts in the case, from any witness?” sald the District Attorney. “No, sir” re- plied the juror. “I never heard any- thing about the facts in the case from anybody, and haven't the least idea what the facts are.” “What do you mean, then?” queried the law officer, “by saying that you have a fixed and decided opinion as to the merits of the case?" “Well, sir,” answered the ju- ror, “my brother has made up his mind.” “An ve you also made up your mind?” o, sir,” was the an- swer. “I only came into the Territory last week, and I don’t know the first thing about the case, but my brother has made up his mind. You see, my brother was summoned on this jury, not I, and he was busy at the ranch and couldn’t come to town, and he sent me here to answer for him and say that he had made up his mind. I an- swered to my brother’s name and tried to tell the court about it, when I was first allowed, but I was ordered to take a seat here and present my ex- cuses when the time came. So I obeyed and now you have my excuse.”™