ell-known fact
of Alessandro's liability to attacks of insanity, might be made to tell
against him, if he should be brought to trial for the murder. He was
as cowardly as he was cruel: never yet were the two traits separate
in human nature; and after a few days of this torturing suspense and
apprehension, he suddenly resolved to leave the country, if not forever,
at least for a few years, till this brother-in-law should be out of the
way. He lost no time in carrying out his resolution; and it was well
he did not, for it was only three days after he had disappeared, that
Felipe walked into Judge Wells's office, one morning, to make inquiries
relative to the preliminary hearing which had been held there in the
matter of the murder of the Indian, Alessandro Assis, by James Farrar.
And when the judge, taking down his books, read to Felipe his notes of
the case, and went on to say, "If Farrar's testimony is true, Ramona's,
the wife's, must be false," and "at any rate, her testimony would not be
worth a straw with any jury," Felipe sprang to his feet, and cried, "She
of whom you speak is my foster-sister; and, by God, Senor, if I can find
that man, I will shoot him as I would a dog! And I'll see, then, if a
San Diego County jury will hang me for ridding the country of such a
brute!" and Felipe would have been as good as his word. It was a wise
thing Farrar had done in making his escape.

When Aunt Ri heard that Farrar had fled the country, she pushed up
her spectacles and looked reflectively at her informant. It was young
Merrill. "Fled ther country, hez he?" she said. "Wall, he kin flee ez
many countries ez he likes, an' 't won't dew him no good. I know yeow
folks hyar don't seem ter think killin' an Injun's enny murder, but I
say 'tis; an' yeow'll all git it brung home ter yer afore yer die: ef
'tain't brung one way, 't'll be anuther; yeow jest mind what I say, 'n'
don't yeow furgit it. Naow this miser'ble murderer, this Farrar, thet's
lighted out er hyar, he's nothin' more'n a skunk, but he's got the Lawd
arter him, naow. It's jest's well he's gawn; I never did b'leeve in
hangin'. I never could. It's jest tew men dead 'stead o' one. I don't
want to see no man hung, no marter what he's done, 'n' I don't want to
see no man shot down, nuther, no marter what he's done; 'n' this hyar
Feeleepy, he's thet highstrung, he'd ha' shot thet Farrar, any minnit,
quicker'n lightnin', ef he'd ketched him; so it's better all raound
he's li