ELISHA DODGE’S CONFESSION.

Patea Mail, Volume VIII, Issue 1038, 23 May 1883, Page 4

ELISHA DODGE’S CONFESSION.

LITERATURE.

( Continued.) ‘ Sakes alive, Lish !’ replied Hezekiah, edging away a little as he spoke; ‘ I don’t mean to preach. I only come here sort of friendly, to see how you was gettin’ along, and now yon blow out and git mad. But I ain’t mad, Lish ; I come to see ei perhaps you’d feel to s open your mind, and— ’ ‘ Open a fiddlestick 1’ interrupted Elisha impatiently. ‘ What the devil are you hankering after, Hezek ? Out with it. I know you’re after, something as well as I know you’re a sneak.’ ‘ Wall, Lish,’ I know you’ve got a 'heap o’ things on your mind ; and they say you ain’t ownfcd up to nothin’ yet; and I thought most likely you’d feel opener with me, and—’’ ‘ You did, did you ?’interrupted his brother scornfully. ‘ I s’pose you thought I’d got a heap o’ things stowed away somewheres that you conld take care of while I was rotting in gaol, did you ?’ ‘ There naow, Lish,’ said Hezekiah, evidently relieved that the ice was broken; ‘ I always did say’s yon was the smartest of ns all. I was thinkin’ perhaps you’d got somethin’ laid away somewheres’t youconld’nt get a hold of while yon was in prison, and thet I conld kinder look after until you got out again. I wonld’nt run no risks, Lish ; but ef there was anything buried in the ground, or any spot’s ’twasn’t dangerous for me to look after it—’ * I see,’ said Elisha, with dangerous calmness. ‘ Ef there was a heap of money and jewels buried in some field where ’twa’nt too lonesome, and yet lonesome enough, or ef I’d bid some lady’s di’mond necklace in a empty old hen-coop somewheres where ye could put your hand on it’ihont fear of the roosters fly in’ at ye, that’d ye about your ticket, Hezek—somethin’ easy and handy eh ?’ Hezekiah fidgeted a little and laughed feebly. ‘I tell yon what, Lish, I’d take real good care of anything ’, he said, in an ingratiating tone. ‘ There ain’t nothing for yon to take care of,’ replied-Elisha, with a scornful laugh. ‘ Do ye reely mean that, Lish ?’ said Hezekiah, too much intent upon his object to notice the scorn in Elisha’s tone, or the anger gathering about his brows. ‘Wall, I relly wouldn’t believed it ef you hedn’t told me. Massey to me 1 You hev made a mull of it, hev’nt ye ?’ ‘ Mull af it 1’ replied Elisha. ‘ Well, perhaps I have ; but I know—’ Whatever he was about to say was interrupted by Hezekiah, who, rising suddenly, went on elaborate tiptoe to the door, where he listened for a couple of seconds, then, lyirig his finger on his lips, he returned to his seat on the bed. ‘See here, Lish,’ he said, leaning forward, and laying a pudgy clammy hand on Elisha’s reluctant knee; ‘ blood’s tbicker’n water—yon allow that, I guess—and seein’ ’t’s you was the only party caught in that affair of Mr Ross Green’s family plate, I allowed you most likely know’d where ’twas. Wall, seein’ ’t yon. can’t—that it won’t be no good to yon for 20 year—l sh’d think yon might give a feller an idee where’t was. Ef ’tain’t noways dangerous— For the first time a gleam of something like-humoor darted across Elisha’s gloomy face. ‘ Ef ’tain’t noways dangerous you’ll be kind enough to go and find that ’ere silver, and melt it down, eh ?’ he replied. ‘ I’d save a part for you, Lish; I Would reely,’ interrupted Hezekiah. ‘Ye would, eh? Mighty generous, ain’t ye, at all at once ? Jest now you were goin’to take care of it for me, but but let you once get your fingers on it— It’s fine plate, that is, Hezek, the biggest haul I ever made; and ye guessed right for once in your life. Nobody but me knows where ’tis.’ ‘Do. tell!’ exclaimed- Hezekiah, eagerly*. ‘ Blood’s thicker’n water, as you say, continued the convict, slowly, in a satirical tone. ‘ What a fine thing ’twould be for our highly respectable family fo come in possession of that *ere silver. Guess Cori’d be glad to own me for a brother-in-law if he could get - his fingers on to it, eh ?’ ‘ Yes, yes,’ said Hezekiah, alive with expectation. ‘ Yes, you’re,right there. Cori’d be real proud of me,’ said Elisha, with a grim smile. ‘ Yes,* Lish, yes ; where—where is it ?’ stammered Hezekiah, with trembling eagerness. ‘ln a safe place,’ returned the prisoner, seriously j ‘safe and dark and secure. There’s a key turned on it; but no* one’s likely to use the key—from choice at least. The silver might lie where ’tis till the Day o’ Judgment, afore anybody’d go to find any treasure in that place. ’ Hezekiah had risen, and now pressed Up to his brother, trembling with eagerness and greed. 1 Where—where is it, Lish ?’ he stammered. Elisha closed one eye, and shot a glance of extreme cunning at his brother With the other. “Never yon mind, Hezek/ he said coolly. * It’s where it won’t do me no good, and where it sha’n’t do you no good—you, nor Hepsy, nor Liddy, nor Cori, nor none of you. Now git out, will ye ? Ef you was to stay here till doomsday, you wouldn’t find out nothin’ more. I ain’t agoing to tell, and that’s the hull of it.’ 1 Ef—ef I was to help you break gaol, lush ? Me’n, Cori, perhaps we could manage it between us.’ ‘ Manage it, then/ returned the convict calmly, ‘ and I’ll pay ye both well for’t afterwards. No payments in advance in my business, Hezek. Come,’ he continued more sternly, rising as he did so, ‘ I’ve had about enough of your company, Mr Hezekiah Dodge. I’m very thankful to you for that ’ere apple pie, but I was always kind of lovin’ in

my disposition, and I guess the Ross Greene silvere’d be too* high a price to pay ’e. Clear out, will ye ?’ he added, with a sudden dangerous flash in his eye. ‘ Massey to me, Lish,’ said Hezekiah, gathering himself and his bundle together with evident trepidation,' ‘ what a mean, grudgin’, evil disposition you’ve got yet! It’s plain to be seen’t you’re in the gall of bitterness'an’ the bonds of death, and there ain’t the first beginnin’ of grace in you, and X always did say’s yon was the most— Whatever he was about to say was cut short by the entrance of the turnkey ; and the Dodge brothers parted without even a nod of farewell. The turnkey lingered a moment, cast a sharp glance round the cell, then the door shut, and Elisha was alone. His first act was to pull his hat off and throw it on the bed ; then he ran his fingers through his hair, stood up, and stretched himself. ‘ Bah,’ he said, glancing at the small bit of gray sky visible through the iron grating. ‘I always did feel ’s if> I needed a whole skyful of air to breathe after bein’ shut up with Hezek, damned sneak and hypocrite that he is. Ef feelin’ the error of your ways is bein’ repentant though, I guess I’m a repentant sinner, ef there is one in the/Union !’ And he b:oke into a low, joyless laugh. The door opened, and the turnkey put his head in. ‘ Hoppy to see yon enjoyin’ your own society, No. 4/ said he ironically. ‘ It’s a pity to interrupt, but the temporary chaplain’s here again, and would be pleased to see yon if you’re in a better frame of mind riian yon was the other day; and if you feel more like makin’ a clean breast of if, and— ’ ‘ No, sir-ee,’ returned the convict, * I ain’t made a clean breast to him, nor to no one else, and I ain’t goin’ to, nuthcr. I don’t want none of his advice, nor none of his consolations neither. Tell him to clear out, will you 1’ he continued, as he sat down again, pulled his hat over his eyes, tilled his chair against the wall, and evidently prepared himself for dogged deafness and silence. The turnkey shrugged his shoulders, laughed, and departed. As he was delivering the convict’s message to the temporary chaplain, a man ns little fitted for his office as rolling stones are apt to be, a carriage drove up to the gaol, and a gentleman alighted, . who immediately made known his desire to see the prisoner. ‘ A most stubborn and evil character he is,’ said the chaplain, with warmth ; ‘ I would strongly advise yon, sir, not to attempt to see him.’ ‘ He ain’t in the best of, humors, that’s a fact,’ turnkey, with a laugh. ‘ Fact is he’s kind o’ riled up ’cause folks is always tryin’ to find out somethin’ from him. His brother, he was here this afternoon, and left him riled up more’n ever; but ef you had anything partickler to say to him, or was anything to him—’ ‘ I cannot certainly , claim to be related to the prisoner,’ replied the gentleman, laughing, ‘ but I have a sort of connection with him, inasmuch as he stole my silver.’ ‘Do tell 1’ exclaimed the turnkey, eagerly. ‘l’ll show you in, sir, right away. No. 4’s off to the States prison at seven o’clock this evenin’; but there’s lots of time yet. Not that there’s any nse in it, if you expect to hear anything of your silver. He’s as stubborn as a mnle, No. 4 is,; and he wouldn’t tell where ’twas anyway ; but, of course, it’s be’n made away with long ago.’ ‘ Melted down , most likely,’ put in one of the by-slanders. ‘ Very probably,’ said Mr Ross Greene; ‘but, nevertheless, I have some curiosity ;to know when and how. So, if you please, we will go to No. 4,’ he added, turning to the turnkey. * Don’t tell him who T am.’