As they had been trailed from the time of service of subpoena, it was ascertained that they were in frequent conference with Kribs, and would intercept every Government witness that had been summoned from the Sweet Home country as soon as he reached Portland, and coached as to the testimony to be given before Burns and the Grand Jury.
This they had continued to do from day to day, but as they were being "shadowed" constantly by Secret Service men. who had reported their every movement, no concern was felt on this account, as each day, because of their coarse work and anxiety to aid their master, only served to entangle them more hopelessly in the meshes of the law.
As the different entrymen appeared and made their affidavits before Burns, it was discovered that seven out of a party of eight who had taken up claims at the instigation of the Mealey brothers, had made false oaths, we having positive knowledge that they were stating falsehoods. A typical mountaineer named Andy Nicholls was the last of this bunch to show up, and Burns determined to break him down if possible, by employing the same tactics used in the case of Allie Houser.
"Now, Andy," said the celebrated sleuth, in his most patronizing tone of voice, at the same time slapping Nicholls familiarly upon the back, "I want you to be sure and tell the whole truth about this matter, because I understand you are a pretty honest fellow."
"Yaas," drawled Nicholls, with a pleased expression, "that's what my ole dad told me jest before I left Sweet Home. 'Now, Andy,' sez he, 'Andy, I want yer fer ter tell the truth when you git down yander, becoz it wud break yer poor ole mother's heart if yew said anything that hain't so,' an' hyer I am, an' if I hain't a goin' ter tell ye the truth an' nothin' but the truth, so help me Bob, yew kin shoot me fer a mangy coyote."
"That's good!" responded Burns, gleefully, at the same time striking the quaint mountaineer for a quid of tobacco, just to show that his heart was in the right place, and giving him a 14-karat nudge in the short ribs; "that's the right dope, old man! That's something like! And now, let's get busy, and unload this whole cargo of sin that has been playing hide-and-go-seek with your conscience so long!"
Well, Andy sat down, and with one of his long legs thrown carelessly around in dangerous proximity to a costly piece of statuary, and the other cocked up on Heney's favorite mahogany center table, between deluges of tobacco spit on Landlord Bowers' expensive rugs, proceeded to unlimber one of the choicest bits of romance that any of those present had ever heard. It was certainly a peach, and when Private Secretary Irvin Rittenhouse had finished transcribing it on the typewriter Burns seized the tongs and brought the statement in to me.
It was so uproariously funny that anybody but a blind man could see that the wily Government official did not take him seriously.
After Burns and I had laughed over its contents until there was danger of an apoplectic fit, and I had pointed out certain features of the statement that were notoriously false, Burns took it back to Andy, and laying it down tenderly in his lap, remarked:
"I always heard you were the greatest joker in Linn County, Andy, but I never thought you would try and play any of your pranks on your Uncle Samuel," and poking the uncouth son of the forest in the ribs for about the hundredth time. Burns continued: "I never saw the point of your joke until I got your statement in the next room and compared it with some of my records, and it is too funny for anything. Now, go on. Andy, and don't give us any more of your nonsense!"
"Yaas," replied Andy, still smiling and hitting imaginary bullseyes on the carpet, "I jess thought as how I'd kinder fool you uns right smart an' find out how much yew knew about them air doin's! 'aal, here goes now; no more monkey business this time fer sure!"
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