“But I thought you went after railbirds, Judge,” Dr. Kirby said with a grin when the patient’s wound had been dressed. “Rafe, if you-all don’t want me to lose my reputation as a gentleman before this young lady nurse, get out of here quick,” Judge Barringer bellowed. * * * * * It was the following Monday, still hobbling with the aid of a crutch, that Judge Barringer returned to the bench. There had been no word from Bulldog and he did not quite know what to make of it. When the first case was called, a small Negro, whose head was almost completely shrouded in bandages, stood before him, Judge Barringer looked down compassionately. “Well, what did you run into--a truck?” he asked. There was a movement in the prisoners’ pen. The Monday-morning crowd was being swayed by some unseen force. Then the force came into view in the shuffling, sheepish form of Bulldog. “Yas-suh, Jedge, Yo’ Honour, heah Ah is!” “Bulldog!” Judge Barringer was accustomed to almost anything that might happen in his court, but for the moment he was nonplussed. “Didn’t Daddy Ike bring you my message?” “Yas-suh, Jedge, Yo’ Honour, it was thisaway----” “Why didn’t you come to me if you got my message?” Judge Barringer interrupted, his dismay turning to reproof. “Yas-suh, Jedge, Yo’ Honour, Ah’m comin’ to dat. It was thisaway,” Bulldog pleaded apologetically: “If yo’ was to take dem rags offen dat little half-size nigger, yo’d see it was Chinkapin hidin’ behin’ ’em.” “Chinkapin!” “Yas-suh, Jedge, de same what tol’ me dat lie ’bout dat Washin’ton nigger dyin’. Dis heah Chinkapin cause all de trouble, Jedge, Yo’ Honour. If it wasn’ fo’ Chinkapin’s lyin’, Jedge, Ah wouldn’ ’a’ bus’ loose from de chain gang. If it wasn’ fo’ dat little han’ful lyin’, I wouldn’ hab tote’ yo’ all de way to Ossabaw. Don’ blame me fo’ totin’ yo’ to Ossabaw, Jedge; blame Chinkapin; he done it. Dat Chinkapin nigger’s to blame fo’ ev’y las’ bit ob de trouble. So’s when Ah’m comin’ from Ossabaw Sa’day night, comin’ to see you, Jedge, Ah bumps into dat Chinkapin an’ Ah jes nachelly squeeze his lyin’ haid fo’ him and gib him a couple ob shakes and dat’s all.” “Why did you wait until Saturday to come?” Judge Barringer asked. “’Deed, Jedge, Yo’ Honour, how come Ah could come befo’ Sa’day? Cap’n Jim didn’ let Chinkapin loose offen de chain gang until Sa’day,” said Bulldog honestly. Judge Barringer did not smile this morning. The business before him was too personal. The little bandaged Negro had lied to Bulldog. But in breaking away from the chain gang, Bulldog had been the means of saving the judge’s life, for he might never have been found in the swamp. It had been his purpose to suspend sentence on the big Negro, to take him under his wing and get him a job. Now that seemed impossible. “What do you think I ought to do, Bulldog?” he asked the giant gravely.