Judge Payderson stared quizzically at the negro, who, obviously not very much disturbed by this examination, was leaning comfortably on the gate or bar before which the average criminal stood erect and terrified.  He had been before police-court magistrates before on one charge and another—­drunkenness, disorderly conduct, and the like—­but his whole attitude was one of shambling, lackadaisical, amusing innocence.

“Well, Ackerman,” inquired his honor, severely, “did you or did you not steal this piece of lead pipe as charged here—­four dollars and eighty cents’ worth?”

“Yassah, I did,” he began.  “I tell you how it was, jedge.  I was a-comin’ along past dat lumber-yard one Saturday afternoon, and I hadn’t been wuckin’, an’ I saw dat piece o’ pipe thoo de fence, lyin’ inside, and I jes’ reached thoo with a piece o’ boad I found dey and pulled it over to me an’ tuck it.  An’ aftahwahd dis Mistah Watchman man”—­he waved his hand oratorically toward the witness-chair, where, in case the judge might wish to ask him some questions, the complainant had taken his stand—­“come around tuh where I live an’ accused me of done takin’ it.”

“But you did take it, didn’t you?”

“Yassah, I done tuck it.”

“What did you do with it?”

“I traded it foh twenty-five cents.”

“You mean you sold it,” corrected his honor.

“Yassah, I done sold it.”

“Well, don’t you know it’s wrong to do anything like that?  Didn’t you know when you reached through that fence and pulled that pipe over to you that you were stealing?  Didn’t you?”

“Yassah, I knowed it was wrong,” replied Ackerman, sheepishly.  “I didn’ think ‘twuz stealin’ like zackly, but I done knowed it was wrong.  I done knowed I oughtn’ take it, I guess.”

“Of course you did.  Of course you did.  That’s just it.  You knew you were stealing, and still you took it.  Has the man to whom this negro sold the lead pipe been apprehended yet?” the judge inquired sharply of the district attorney.  “He should be, for he’s more guilty than this negro, a receiver of stolen goods.”

“Yes, sir,” replied the assistant.  “His case is before Judge Yawger.”

“Quite right.  It should be,” replied Payderson, severely.  “This matter of receiving stolen property is one of the worst offenses, in my judgment.”

He then turned his attention to Ackerman again.  “Now, look here, Ackerman,” he exclaimed, irritated at having to bother with such a pretty case, “I want to say something to you, and I want you to pay strict attention to me.  Straighten up, there!  Don’t lean on that gate!  You are in the presence of the law now.”  Ackerman had sprawled himself comfortably down on his elbows as he would have if he had been leaning over a back-fence gate talking to some one, but he immediately drew himself straight, still grinning foolishly and apologetically, when he heard this.  “You are not so dull