James Beardley Hendryx - Black John of Halfaday Creek

“Prob’ly the tea,” suggested Swiftwater. “Mebbe Cleveland come over here an’ slipped the arsenic in his tea when he wasn’t lookin’.” Picking up the empty teacup, he carried it to the doorway and held it to the light as he poked among the damp leaves with a forefinger. “Shore he did!” he exclaimed. “There’s some of that white stuff in the bottom of the cup!”

Black John joined him and peered into the cup to see nearly a quarter of a teaspoonful of the white crystalline substance. “It ain’t the p’izen in the bottom of a cup that kills a man,” he said. “It’s the p’izen in his belly.”

“Shore it is,” admitted Swiftwater, “but what I claim, enough of it dissolved to kill him, an’ there was this much left. Like when you put sugar in yer tea—if you put in quite a bit, there’s gen’ally some left in the bottom of the cup after the tea’s drank.”

“Set the teapot on the stove an’ build up a fire, an’ we’ll soon know,” said Black John. “If arsenic will dissolve in hot tea, yer prob’ly right. If it don’t, yer wrong.”

Removing a bit of the white substance that he had taken from the tin in Cleveland’s duffel bag, Black John poured some hot tea into a cup, added the arsenic and stirred it slowly. Apparently none of it went into solution. “Score one fer the defense,” he said, and returned to continue his scrutiny of the table. “I believe I’ve got it,” he announced directly. “Rice is white. Arsenic wouldn’t show up on rice—an’ he’d eat it without ever noticin’.”

“Shore he would!”

“But,” continued Black John, “how would it git on his rice? A man don’t dish out his rice an’ leave it settin’ around to git cold whilst someone sprinkles p’izen on it. An’ how did the p’izen get in his tea?”

“Why, Cleveland might of be’n here when he started to eat, an’ watched his chanct to p’izen his grub.”

“On Halfaday we convict a man fer what he done, not what he might of done.”

Swiftwater Bill frowned. “It’s all right to be careful, John,” he said. “But it looks to me like yer carryin’ carefulness too fer. That damn cuss ain’t never goin’ to admit that he p’izened this man’s grub. Yer givin’ him all the breaks.”

Black John nodded. “An’ he’s goin’ to need all the breaks he kin git when I git this thing figgered out. There’s damn few murders got away with on Halfaday. Go ahead an’ hunt around the shack whilst I try an’ dope this business out. The way Cleveland spoke, he must believe there’d be somethin’ worth-while here in the way of property.”

After some minutes of search Swiftwater returned to the table where Black John stood in apparent contemplation of the dishes. “There ain’t nothin’ here except his reg’lar outfit,” he opined.

“Hunt up his ax,” said Black John, without removing his eyes from the table, “an’ pry up that third puncheon from the wall. When you stepped on it a minute ago I seen it give a little. This here is an old floor. The puncheons hadn’t ort to be loose.”

Swiftwater complied, and a moment later he reached into an aperture beneath the loosened puncheon and withdrew a thick packet. Hastily removing its canvas wrapping he disclosed several packets of bills which he proceeded to count. “Cripes! There’s eighteen thousan’ dollars!” he announced, “an’ they’ve got bank bands on ’em!”

Black John glanced at the packets which the other laid on the table. “Yeah,” he said. “They’re ondoubtless the fruits of some crime. It’s an American job—so we don’t have to worry none about it. It ain’t none of our business what a man done before he come to Halfaday. He was a fool to let Cleveland know about them bills, though!”

“But what’ll you do with ’em?”

“Put ’em in escrow.”

“What? Put ’em where?”

“In escrow. That’s the legal way of handlin’ funds like that. You see, it wouldn’t be no use to turn ’em over to the public administrator because he couldn’t never locate no heirs—Grover Harrison bein’ merely a synthetical name as you might say. Of course Cleveland would be entitled to inherit ’em under the will, but the chances is he ain’t goin’ to have time to spend ’em nohow. In sech cases, it’s customary to hold ’em in escrow fer a reasonable time. If at the end of that time no one has called fer ’em, they revert to the finder which in this case is you an’ me. I’ll fetch your share down next time I go to Dawson—in case they ain’t called fer. But we’ll be goin’ now. Wait till I do up my evidence.”

“You mean you’ve doped out how Cleveland got that p’izen onto the rice?”

“Cleveland didn’t do it. Harrison p’izened his own rice—an’ his own tea, too.”

“P’izened his own rice!”

“Shore. All Cleveland done was to mix the arsenic up with Harrison’s sugar here in this can. Then, when Harrison come to eat, he spooned it out of the can onto his rice an’ into his tea, too.” As he spoke, Black John poured some of the contents of the half-filled tin, that had served Harrison as a sugar bowl, into his hand and carried it to the light where both could plainly distinguish the poison crystals mixed with the sugar.

Returning the mixture to the tin, Black John poured it out onto a piece of paper, made it into a package and pocketed it. Then he refilled the can with fresh sugar from a cloth bag which he found on a shelf.

“We’ll load Harrison in the canoe now an’ git goin’,” he said. “No use keepin’ the boys waitin’. An’ besides, we’ll be wantin’ to go ahead with our celebration.”

“You’ll call the miners’ meetin’ first, won’t you? You shore as hell can’t claim you ain’t got the goods on that damn skunk now, kin you?”

“Well, we’ve got a motive in them bills, an’ we’ve got the intent to p’izen in tracin’ that stuff from Cleveland’s pack to Harrison’s belly—an’ we’ve got a dead man. The only thing we ain’t shore of is that them there white crystals is p’izen.”

“Ain’t shore they’re p’izen! Good God! Harrison’s dead, ain’t he?”

“Lookin’ at him from here, I’d say he has that appearance.”

“Well, what more do you want?”

“I couldn’t ask fer nothin’ better—in view of his probable character. But on Halfaday we don’t never take nothin’ fer granted. You believe that stuff is p’izen, I believe it’s p’izen, but that don’t make it p’izen. I’m goin’ to make shore. I’ve got a couple of old dogs that’s all crippled up with rheumatizm. I’ve be’n goin’ to put ’em out of their misery fer quite a while but kep’ puttin’ it off. We’ll try out this stuff on ’em an’ then we’ll know fer shore.”

“Looks like one dog would be enough,” said Swiftwater.

“Nope. Half a job is no job at all. One dog gits a dose of the stuff that was mixed with Harrison’s sugar. That’ll show if the stuff he et on his rice was p’izen. The other gits a dose of the stuff out of Cleveland’s pack. That’ll link Cleveland up with it. We’ll hold the inquest first an’ jest make it a matter of form. Then we’ll turn Cleveland loose and try out this stuff on them dogs. After that we’ll govern ourselves accordin’.”

Swiftwater Bill eyed the big man with approval. “No wonder Corporal Downey claims you do a good square job up here, John. By cripes, you as good as know this man is guilty, yet you’re shore givin’ him all the breaks.”

“Oh shore. We give ’em the breaks all right. I wouldn’t like to see no innocent man git convicted on Halfaday. Downey might think we was careless.” He paused and slipped the packets of bills into the front of his shirt. “Git holt of Harrison’s feet now an’ we’ll lay him in the canoe.”