The tall officer who had picked him up said something to the justice in a tone too low for me to catch; but “No. 4” heard it--it was evidently a statement against him--for he started to speak in a deprecating way. The judge interrupted him: “I thought you told me last time that if I let you go you would not take another drink for a year.” “I forgot,” said “No. 4”, in a low voice. “This officer says you resisted him?” The officer looked stolidly at the prisoner as if it were a matter of not the slightest interest to him personally. “Cursed me and abused me,” he said, dropping the words slowly as if he were checking off a schedule. “I did not, your honor; indeed, I did not,” said “No. 4”, quickly. “I swear I did not; he is mistaken. Your honor does not believe I would tell you a lie! Surely I have not got so low as that.” The justice turned his pencil in his hand doubtfully, and looked away. “No. 4” took in his position. He began again. “I fell in with an old soldier, and we got to talking about the war--about old times.” His voice was very soft. “I will promise your honor that I won’t take another drink for a year. Here, I’ll take an oath to it. Swear me.” He seized the greasy little Bible on the desk before him, and handed it to the justice. The magistrate took it doubtfully. He looked down at the prisoner half kindly, half humorously. “You’ll just break it.” He started to lay the book down. “No; I want to take the pledge,” said “No. 4”, eagerly. “Did I ever break a pledge I made to your honor?” “Didn’t you promise me not to come back here?” “I have not been here for nine months. Besides, I did not come of my own free will,” said “No. 4”, with a faint flicker of humor on his perspiring face. “You were here two months ago, and you promised not to take another drink.” “I forgot that. I did not mean to break it; indeed, I did not. I fell in with----” The justice looked away, considered a moment, and ordered him back into the pen with, “Ten days, to cool off.”