THE ALIBI--By Const. M. Cramond

THE SCENE WAS a winding dusty high-
way near Cranbrook, B. C.

The constable was P. H. Howarth, and he
had just overtaken a car. A rickety car on
its last rubber, and it looked as if it had just
chosen to exhaust its last gaseous vapour
and died in the middle of the road. It was
halfway across the highway obstructing a
bad turn. Howarth got out of the patrol
car ahead of it, and retracing his steps
looked into the driver's seat. Its tone oc-
cupant was slumped on the: seat in what
appeared to be the attitude of the dead. It
turned out the surprise was half right. The
driver was dead—drunk. In response to
the policeman’s nudge the following state-
ment was received:

“S’ell smather withyoo!” in strong Chin-
ook dialect, flavoured with wine.

The answer was a ride to the police
station and a nice bunk in a cell.

The night passed uneventfully for both
parties and in the morning Const. Howarth

drew up the necessary papers charging the °

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Indian with “being in control of a motor
vehicle while intoxicated.”” The lesson has
to be taught, harsh as it may seem. Human
lives hang in the balance.

Court was not particularly busy that
morning and Jimmy Tommy the accused
was arraigned in due course before the
Magistrate. It was an open and shut case,
if there is such a thing. Howarth had been
forced to carry the man into the cell block.

Strangely enough when the Magistrate
asked the accused if he wished to plead

“GUILTY” or “NOT GUILTY” he shook

his head.

“Come Jimmy, you know what I mean.
You've been here before.”

“ST tal you Judge, I dunno what sat
you mean.”

“Well Jimmy, were you driving a car
while you were drunk, or not. If you are
not guilty say so, and plead that way. If
you are guilty plead in that manner.”

There was a vigorous and innocent shake
of the grotesque head.

“S’ I tal you Judge I ain’ guilty. Nossir!”

“Plea accepted as not guilty. Will the
constable proceed with his prosecution?”

A faint feeling of trepidation passed
through Const Howarth’s mind. Perhaps
he had not bothered to gather enough
evidence. He had no partly empty bottle,
he’ hadn’t had the man examined by a
registered physician—he had only carried
the liquor sodden relic into the cell block,

searched him and put his effects in a }
after receiving what represented a signature
for their correctness. Perhaps the Indian
had just crawled into the car in a drunken
stupor and gone to sleep. A number gf |
reasons for innocence flitted through th
policeman’s mind.

Perspiring a little he took great pains jy
give all details of the Indian’s condition
the time of arrest, but as he left the stang
he had an uneasy feeling that he had
convinced the court that the accused had
been drunk.

“Now Jimmy Tommy” said the Magi
strate, in a kindly tone “You say you ar
not guilty. Can you prove that statement
to me?”

“Shure Judge. You betcha. I no guilty
like he say.”

“Will you give your evidence please,”
patiently continued the Magistrate.

“Shure Yonnor. I do that. I not guilty,
I'm so damn drunk I dunno I'm drivin’
thats car.”

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