The prisoner’s massive head might have been chiselled with an ax from a block of black marble, and not too finely chiselled, at that. It had the sheen of black marble, and was square and formidable, that head, viewed from any angle. The jaw was square and protruding, the forehead was square and receding, the nose was broad and flat. Just now the mouth was spread wide across the shining ebony face. “Mawnin’, Jedge,” the big Negro said with a sheepish grin. “Heah Ah is!” Judge Barringer’s head jerked up instantly. He was not accustomed to mawkish familiarity from his charges, nor did he fail to administer stinging rebukes, when such were attempted, in the amount of sentence given as well as in verbal reproof to any and all who might presume to take such liberties. But as he took cognizance of the figure that loomed before him, his expression changed. The frown that had furrowed his forehead did not linger. It could not be said that he smiled, but a look of real recognition, kindly and forbearing, came into his eyes. One hardly frowns at an old acquaintance. “Well, Bulldog,” Judge Barringer said, calling the big Negro by the only name he had, “I haven’t seen you for the longest time. Where have you been hiding?” Bulldog grinned, even a broader grin than before, so that his white teeth showed in a semicircle. “Same place wheah Ah usually is, Jedge Barringer, Yo’ Honour. Down on the Fahm wiv Cap’n Jim.” The Farm was the chain-gang camp. “It’s too bad, Bulldog,” the judge said, shaking his head; “you’re big enough to keep out of trouble and mind your own business.” “Yas-suh, Jedge Barringer, tha’s jes’ what Ah was a-doin’, mindin’ mah business, an’ Ah jes’ gits me into trouble jes’ the same. Seems lak me an’ trouble sticks together lak a pair ob dice.” He grinned again. The grin became infectious and Judge Barringer took it up. Even the stolid fat Sam Perks, the turnkey, grinned. Then came a general titter, to be brought to a sudden halt by the judge’s staccato gavel. Judge Barringer had suddenly remembered the railbirds and the Big Swamp. He was off for a three-day hunt, and there were several things he must attend to personally before turning over the affairs of court _pro tem._ to the clerk. With still more than half a heavy Monday docket to be heard from, there was no time for amusement this morning. “Well, where’s the witness against Bulldog? Is the Court to be kept waiting? What has he to say for himself and why isn’t he here?” The patrolman who had arrested the big Negro stepped forward. “The witness is still in the hospital, judge,” he said. “Pretty badly done up and they don’t know when he will be out. I guess the case will have to be continued until he can appear.” “Waste of time,” Judge Barringer said crisply. “I know Bulldog.” He turned abruptly to the big Negro. “Well, what happened this time? Tell us your side of the story.”