OCR Text |
Show Once C. O. Whittemore almost Avon a case during the time he held the office of United States attorney for Utan. The only thing that prevented it was the stoical cussedness of an Uncom-pahgre Uncom-pahgre Indian. The defendant was accused, of conspiring to quench Lo's fiery thirst by vending to him for a monetary consideration a quart of reservation whisky. Lo's dialect was limited to monosyllabic TJncompahgre, so an interpreter was brought into court. It was gathered from Lo that he was a Ute buck and proud of it; that he was acquainted with the defendant and was inclined to be rather chesty about that. The examination consumed about two hours. Mr. Whittemore then flashed a pint bottle of whisky on Lo and asked whether he had ever purchased any fluid of that kind from the defendant. The Indian thereupon became immovably and impenetrably silent. He indifferently surveyed the court fixtures and the scenery, while Whittemore Whitte-more cajoled and gesticulated wildly. ""Eventually the court urged the Indian to utterance, with partial par-tial success. "No more talk," said Lo. "Me too tired." Mr. Whittemore thundered, and plead pitequsly, but the Indian had wrapped himself up in something some-thing resembling catalepsy, and no other syllable could be drawn out of him with a derrick. So C. 0. lost the case and his record as prosecuting attorney at-torney thereby remained unbroken. |