THE BAD MAN
By Harry C. Goodwin
“Prisoner to the bar,” called the Clerk of the Court.
The prisoner came forward, closely followed by a dog, which, because it had been evidence during the trial, had become known as Exhibit A. In one hand the man held what might have been a hat when new. The other hand hung at his side so the dog could reach up and give it an affectionate lick now and then—when the man needed sympathy and encouragement.
In answer to questions put, the prisoner said he was John Brent, twenty-seven years old, and his mother’s name was Mary.
“And your father’s name?” asked the clerk, thinking Brent had overlooked this detail.
“Never had none.”
The judge looked up, glanced in sympathy at the prisoner, then looked down again.
The famous Von Betz, who had caused Brent’s arrest and trial, sneered.
Some women present, attracted by the high social and professional standing of the great Von Betz, looked shocked.
Possibly they were shocked.
Exhibit A moved closer and gave the hand of his master two or three encouraging licks and wagged his tail joyfully in recognition of the prisoner’s friendly smile.
“The jury,” said the judge, “has found you guilty of assault, with intent to kill, on the person of Dr. Enrich Von Betz. You have had a fair trial. The evidence seems to justify the verdict. Have you anything to say why sentence should not be passed?”
“I would like to say something, judge, ’cause I got a hunch you’ll understand. I got a feelin’ you’d done the same thing I did. I never had a father, and the world seems to blame me. But it wasn’t my fault, and I’ve never blamed my mother, neither. She was a good girl. I’ve had a pretty tough time—nobody but my mother, the dog, and God has given me a square deal. Sometimes God forgot, I guess.”
The judge leaned forward, interested. The dog licked the prisoner’s hand and wagged his tail. Thus encouraged, Brent continued:
“There ain’t been a day since my mother died that some one ain’t come along and made me feel in the way. Every time I’d get a new start some one would say I didn’t have a father, an’ back I’d go.
“I got to thinkin’ I must be a pretty bad man until Yip, the dog, fell in with me three years ago. Guess he saw somethin’ in me others didn’t. He didn’t ask if I had a father. He’s stuck by me, he’s starved fer me, an I’ve starved fer him. Just see how he looks at me, judge. A dog don’t look at a man like that unless he sees some good in all the bad.
“I pulled Yip out from under a trolley car and went under myself. They took me to the hospital and sent Yip to the pound. I was in for a long time, and on the day I left I did this thing I’m going up for.
“I was passing a building on the grounds when I heard a dog yelp. It was Yip. I don’t know how I got in, but I did. I don’t know exactly what I did when I got in. I guess I did come near killing the doctor.
“But judge,” and his voice grew thick from anger, “when I got in I saw Yip stretched out on his back. They had straps pulling his legs one way and his head another way so he couldn’t move. All he could do was cry—cry just like a baby that knows he’s being hurt but don’t know why.
“And the doctor, judge, was standing over Yip and the knife in his hand was all bloody.”
“Go on,” said the judge.
“I ain’t got anything more to say, except that I want you to send Yip along when you send me away. If you don’t, judge, and the doctor gets Yip and kills him, I’ll kill the doctor when I gets out, because I’ve got just as much right fer killin’ the doctor as he’s got to kill Yip. That’s all I got to say, judge.”
“I know how you feel, Brent,” said the judge, in a rather husky voice. “I’ve got a dog at home—a dog like Yip. And—and—but duty compels me to sentence you to ten years at hard labour, and I impose a similar sentence on the dog Yip——”
“Thanks, judge, thanks, fer sending Yip along. You know, judge. You got a heart, you got feelings, just like Yip and your dog has. You——”
“But in view of the circumstances that provoked the assault,” interrupted the judge, “I’ll suspend your sentence during good behaviour.”
“But Yip,” begged the man without a father.
“I’ll suspend Yip’s sentence, too,” smiled the judge.