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“But, Judge–?” began the young man.

A sharp cough from the Sheriff interrupted him and he glanced at the Sheriff to meet a menacing shake of the head.

The strangeness of the scene and the impressive solemnity of the Judge so wrought upon the young man that he began to whimper. He looked at the Judge and once more opened his mouth to speak, but the Sheriff, called, sharply:

“Silence!”

Creel glanced appealingly from the Judge to the Sheriff, only to meet another imperative shake of the latter’s head and a warning scowl. Then the Judge proceeded, in a tone that showed that he was not insensible to his altered manner.

“The Court, always mindful of that mercy whose quality ‘is not strained, but droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven upon the place beneath,’ trusts that your recent incarceration, though brief, may prove adequate to the exigencies of the occasion. It hopes that the incarceration of one night in the common gaol may prove in case of a young man like yourself sufficiently efficacious to deter you from the repetition of so grave a misdemeanor, and at the same time not crush too much that generous spirit of youth which in its proper exercise may prove so advantageous to its possessor, and redound so much to the benefit of the Commonwealth. The order of the Court, therefore, is that the Sheriff discharge you from further imprisonment.

“Mr. Sheriff, conduct the young man to the door, caution him against a recurrence of his offence, and direct him toward his home.

“We will now proceed to call the docket.”

The court-room with another gasp broke into a buzz, which was instantly quelled by the sharp command of the Sheriff for silence and order in the court.

“But, Judge–” began Creel again, “I don’t understand–“

What he did not understand was not heard, for Thompson seized the prisoner before he could finish his sentence, and, with a grip of steel on his arm, hustled him down the aisle and out of the court-room.

A good many persons poured out of the court-room after them and with subdued laughter followed the Sheriff and his charge across the green. Thompson, however, did not wait for them. The young man appeared inclined to argue. But the Sheriff gave him no time. Hurrying him down the walk, he unhitched his horse for him and ordered him to mount.

“But, Sheriff–Mr. Thompson, I ‘m darned if I understand what it is all about.”

“You were drunk,” said Thompson–“flagrantly inebriated. Go home. Did n’t you hear the Judge?”

“Yes, I heard him. He ‘s doty. I might have been drunk, but I ‘m darned if I slept in jail last night–I slept in—-“

“I ‘m darned if you did n’t,” said the Sheriff. “The Judge has ruled it so, and so you did. Now go home and don’t you come back here again during this term, or you will sleep in jail again.”

“That old Judge is doty,” declared the young man with a tone of conviction.

“So much the worse for you if you come back here. Go home now, just as quick as you can.”

Creel reflected for a moment.

“Well, it beats my time. I ‘ll tell you what I ‘ll do, Mr. Thompson,” he said, half pleadingly. “I ‘ll go home and stay there if you will promise not to tell my wife I was in jail.”

“I promise you,” said Aleck, solemnly. “I give you my word I won’t.”

“And what ‘s more,” continued Creel, “if you ‘ll keep anybody else from doing it, I ‘ll vote for you next time for Sheriff.”

“I promise you that, too,” said Aleck, “and if anybody says you were there, let me know, and I ‘ll come up there and–and tell her you were n’t. I can’t do any more than that, can I?”

“No, you can’t do any more than that,” admitted Creel, sadly, and, leaning over and shaking hands with the Sheriff cordially for the first time in some years, he rode away in profound dejection.