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."