driven to the nearest police-court. He sat in the pen with
a score of others until his turn came.

The bartender -- who proved to be a well-known bruiser
-- was called to the stand, He took the oath and told his
story. The prisoner had come into his saloon after mid~
night, fighting drunk, and had ordered a glass of beer and
tendered a dollar bill in payment. He had been given
ninety-five cents' change, and had demanded ninety-nine
dollars more, and before the plaintiff could even answer
had hurled the glass at him and then attacked him with
a bottle of bitters, and nearly wrecked the place.

Then the prisoner was sworn -- a forlorn object, haggard
and unshorn, with an arm done up in a filthy bandage, a
cheek and head cut and bloody, and one eye purplish black
and entirely closed. "What have you to say for your~
self?" queried the magistrate.

"Your Honor," said Jurgis, "I went into his place and
asked the man if he could change me a hundred-dollar
bill. And he said he would if I bought a drink. I
gave him the bill and then he wouldn't give me the
change."

The magistrate was staring at him in perplexity. "You
gave him a hundred-dollar bill!" he exclaimed.

"Yes, your Honor," said Jurgis.

"Where did you get it?"

"A man gave it to me, your Honor."

"A man? What man, and what for?"

"A young man I met upon the street, your Honor.
I had been begging."

There was a titter in the court-room; the officer who
was holding Jurgis put up his hand to hide a smile, and
the magistrate smiled without trying to hide it. "It's
true, your Honor!" cried Jurgis, passionately.

"You had been drinking as well as begging last night,
had you not?" inquired the magistrate.

"No, your Honor--" protested Jurgis. "I--"

"You had not had anything to drink?"

"Why, yes, your Honor, I had--"

"What did you have?"

[[296]]

p295 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p296w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p297

v?