For five years he has spent his nights with the night officers of the city. He knows the ins and outs of the police department better than one or two of the billy-toters that pass for policemen. For patrol duty he is first-class. He can run with the flying thief, or jump fences with the light-footed crap-shooter, and is always handy and willing. If a call comes for Black Maria, Judge is the first to mount the front seat. He likes an exciting race--the faster the better. On raids, he is the first to enter the house and the last to quit it. While the search or investigation is being made, he sits quietly by, a visiting onlooker, interested but not active. If the officers are compelled to run a foot-race, Judge takes the lead, and it is a wiry culprit that can out-distance him. The prisoner securely fixed in the wagon, Judge takes his seat in front, turns his back to the horse, and faces the unfortunate one. He seems to delight in bringing offenders to justice, not cruel, but in full sympathy with the blue-stocking laws of the city. Once outside of his own yard, Judge assumes a dignified, stiff air, except when playing with his favorite officers. Some people would say that he is haughty, and at times he is, but if he turns up his nose at a fellow, that means that he considers himself superior to that particular wart on society, and there is generally a good reason for his contempt. Dogs do not concern Judge. He pays but little attention to their friendly advances or threatening growls. If some vicious cur snarls and snaps at his heels, he curls his fuzzy tail over his back and ignores the common whelp; while, on the other hand, if some soft-coated, gentle-mannered, pedigreed dog tries to make up to him, he goes to Col. Black, rubs against his legs, looks up into his face, and declares: “What fools these canines be! I don’t care one whit for any of them.” From what has already been said, one might conclude that Judge is a coward. Well, dear reader, you may disabuse your mind of that conclusion, for it is wrong. Judge is a true North Carolinian--slow to anger, but fearfully courageous when in trouble. He fears no dog in town. The common herd like to snap at him from inside a secure fence, as he trots by in the wake of Col. Black, but none would dare go near the open gate. Judge just ignores everything that keeps its distance. He has frequently said to the patrolmen something like this: “Did you see that contemptuous scamp charging at me? I would not lower myself to fight him if he were out. I should like to sick old Puss on him if he’d call at my home.”