Her husband's name was mentioned therein; for when the sheriff had
commandeered an automobile from the local garage to convey him and
his posse to Lost Nation and secure Ruggam, Duncan had been called
forth to preside at the steering-wheel. He had thus assisted in the
capture and later had been a witness at the trial.
The reading ended, the man rolled his head.
"If I wasn't held here, I might go!" he said. "I might try for that
five thousand myself!"
Cora was sympathetic enough, of course, but she was fast approaching
the stage where she needed sympathy herself.
"We caught him over on the Purcell farm," mused Duncan. "Something
ailed Ruggam. He was drunk and couldn't run. But that wasn't all. He
had had some kind of crazy-spell during or after the killing and
wasn't quite over it. We tied him and lifted him into the auto. His
face was a sight. His eyes aren't mates, anyhow, and they were wild
and unnatural. He kept shrieking something about a head of
hair--black hair--sticks up like wire. He must have had an awful
impression of Mart's face and that hair of his."
"I remember about Aunt Mary Crumpett's telling me of the trouble her
husband had with his prisoner in the days before the trial," his
wife replied.
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