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The warden sat rotund and impressive, in a swivel chair, holding in his hands a folded-up, blue-backed document. "Dugmore," he said in his best official manner, "when His Excellency, Governor Woodford, was here on Sunday he took notice that your general health was not good. So, of his own accord, he has sent you an unconditional pardon for a Christmas gift, and here it is."
The swordfish got out of line with the boat. But he was close, and he made me think of the charging rhinoceros Dugmore photographed. And then I yelled for the cameras to be snapped. They all clicked and then, when the swordfish shot close behind us, presenting the most magnificent picture, no one was ready! As he passed I thought I saw the line round his body. Then he sounded and began to plug.
Dugmore photographed in life; the man who last winter shot bull elk in Wyoming for their two ugly and shapeless teeth, and the man who wantonly shot down a half-tame deer "for fun" near Carmel, Putnam County, New York, in the summer of 1912, all were guilty of murdering wild animals.
When they found Anse Dugmore in his ambush another snow had fallen on his back and he was slightly more of a skeleton than ever; but the bony finger was still crooked about the trigger, the rusted hammer was back at full cock and there was a dried brownish stain on the gun stock.
It was not in the breed for the victorious Trantham to taunt his hobbled enemy or even to look his way, but he sat just across the aisle from the prisoner so that his ear might catch the jangle of the heavy irons when Dugmore moved in his seat.
I went in as soon as I could safely enter the town, and that was on the Wednesday after. As companions in Termonde I had Tennyson Jesse, Radclyffe Dugmore, and William R. Renton. Mr. Dugmore took photographs of the chalked houses. "Build a fence around Termonde," suggested a Ghent manufacturer, "leave the ruins untouched.
"One of our lifers that we won't have with us much longer," he said casually, noting that the governor's eyes followed the sick convict. "When the con gets one of these hill billies he goes mighty fast." "A mountaineer, then?" said the governor. "What's his name?" "Dugmore," answered the warden; "sent from Clayton County. One of those Clayton County feud fighters."
In the early afternoon they came back, a wooden toothpick in each mouth, from the new hotel where they had just had a most satisfying fifty-cent dinner at the expense of the commonwealth, and sentenced the defendant, Anderson Dugmore, to state prison at hard labor for the balance of his natural life.
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