“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——”