“Come here, Judge,” said Col. Tom Black, the big, blonde policeman, of the Charlotte force, as a black, sleek, shaggy water spaniel started across Independence Square. “You’ve got no business over there; come here.”

Officer Will Pitts, who was by Col. Black’s side at the time, volunteered: “That is an affectionate pair—Col. Black and Judge—they like each other; they tramp the same beat together every night the colonel is on duty.”

“That’s no lie,” put in Col. Black, “that dog is as regular as a clock. He comes to headquarters just before twelve and patrols with the boys till they go off in the morning. He has sense like a man; I never saw such an intelligent animal.

“Look at that large head, those big, bright eyes and that splendid nose! Judge’s no fool!

“He’s got sense enough to vote for mayor. That’s the gospel truth.”

Pitts acquiesced in everything the colonel said, and moved around like a caged animal while Judge was being discussed. He is very fond of the dog.

Judge is a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde dog. During the day, when all honest beings go about and care not who observes them and their manners, Judge plays the part of Dr. Jekyll, serving as a watchdog for his rightful master, Dr. George W. Graham, and enlivening the premises by a cheerful bark or warning growl. All friends of the family are as welcome to the place as the gentle south winds of summer, but an enemy is driven out.

Who, that strolls about the town, viewing the pretty homes, has not seen Judge, trotting about the Graham yard, at the corner of Seventh and Church streets, switching his bushy tail and smiling out of his great brownish mellow eyes at all attractive persons as they pass?

That is his best side.

But, at that very moment, Judge is playing the hypocrite, just as well as a deceitful man would do. All is fair and bright, and Judge greets you with a hearty shake of the tail, beaming face and dancing eyes, delighted to please one and all, knowing that his proud master is watching him through the window. If his behavior is excellent, his dinner will be something out of the ordinary; a rare slice of beef, or a bit of cake, and Pussy will not get all the cream.

Judge comes to just conclusions. He fools the folks at home seven days in the week, being a past master at wool-pulling. When Dr. Graham goes home at night, tired and depressed from a hard day’s work, Judge, tactful dog that he is, rushes out to meet him.

Such capers he does cut, barking, cutting somersaults, and jumping around like wild; his joy unconfined. Dr. Graham tarries for a few minutes to play with him, and if you chance to hear the racket, you think that two gay school children have taken possession of the lawn. If Judge has an axe to grind—an extra large cavity in his bread-basket, or desires to slip away unnoticed earlier than usual—he romps all the harder, and barks more boisterously. He is a shrewd politician. His love for Dr. Graham is sincere, but not as intense as he would make him believe. He is not unlike the girl who marries one fellow for his money while she loves another; Judge prefers Col. Black, Pitts, Sergeant Jetton and other members of the police force to his home people.

For five years he has spent his nights with the night officers of the city. He knows the ins and outs of the police department better than one or two of the billy-toters that pass for policemen. For patrol duty he is first-class. He can run with the flying thief, or jump fences with the light-footed crap-shooter, and is always handy and willing. If a call comes for Black Maria, Judge is the first to mount the front seat. He likes an exciting race—the faster the better. On raids, he is the first to enter the house and the last to quit it. While the search or investigation is being made, he sits quietly by, a visiting onlooker, interested but not active. If the officers are compelled to run a foot-race, Judge takes the lead, and it is a wiry culprit that can out-distance him. The prisoner securely fixed in the wagon, Judge takes his seat in front, turns his back to the horse, and faces the unfortunate one. He seems to delight in bringing offenders to justice, not cruel, but in full sympathy with the blue-stocking laws of the city.

Once outside of his own yard, Judge assumes a dignified, stiff air, except when playing with his favorite officers. Some people would say that he is haughty, and at times he is, but if he turns up his nose at a fellow, that means that he considers himself superior to that particular wart on society, and there is generally a good reason for his contempt.

Dogs do not concern Judge. He pays but little attention to their friendly advances or threatening growls. If some vicious cur snarls and snaps at his heels, he curls his fuzzy tail over his back and ignores the common whelp; while, on the other hand, if some soft-coated, gentle-mannered, pedigreed dog tries to make up to him, he goes to Col. Black, rubs against his legs, looks up into his face, and declares: “What fools these canines be! I don’t care one whit for any of them.”

From what has already been said, one might conclude that Judge is a coward. Well, dear reader, you may disabuse your mind of that conclusion, for it is wrong. Judge is a true North Carolinian—slow to anger, but fearfully courageous when in trouble. He fears no dog in town. The common herd like to snap at him from inside a secure fence, as he trots by in the wake of Col. Black, but none would dare go near the open gate. Judge just ignores everything that keeps its distance. He has frequently said to the patrolmen something like this: “Did you see that contemptuous scamp charging at me? I would not lower myself to fight him if he were out. I should like to sick old Puss on him if he’d call at my home.”

In order to get Judge to do battle, a dog must assault him. Being an officer of the law, he lives up to the letter. If attacked, he fights in self-defense. It will be recalled that he put the little speckled bull-terrier, that loafed around the Gem Restaurant a few years ago, clear out of business for good. Old Speck lingered between life and death for two days after the affray, and then died from his wounds. Other dogs have fared as badly. Judge is slow to take hold, but when he does, Pitts says it’s good night, Isum, for death will creep over the prostrate form of the other dog before he can stop the fight. That is the kind of scrapper Judge is. Like the man who says little, but hangs on like grim death.

I have always heard it said in Providence that it was well to stay out of a row with the laughing fighter. Such a one is Judge. He winks his eyes and grins in the midst of the fight.

Col. Black has one thing against Judge. As Mr. Hyde he is all right, but as Dr. Jekyll he is high-headed and arrogant. If Judge goes up street with any of Dr. Graham’s family, he refuses to recognize any police officer. He carries himself far above common people and soars in an aristocratic atmosphere. If Col. Black or Mr. Pitts calls to him on the sly, he lifts his saucy tail a bit higher and gets closer to his young mistress or master, as the case may be, as if he feared contamination of some sort. In other words, Col. Black and his associates on the police force are proper company after dark, but not in daylight.

Judge does not recognize them in a social way. As conclusive evidence on this point, I relate the following incident:

The joke is on Col. Black or Pitts. Col. Black claims that it is on Pitts, and Pitts that it is on the colonel.

One day, several years ago, one of these worthy officers was sent to notify Dr. Graham that a certain committee, of which he was a member, would meet that night. The officer went to Dr. Graham’s gate, opened it, and started to the porch. Judge, the faithful friend of the early morning, rushed around the house, with bristles raised and teeth shining, growling viciously. The officer, seeing the threatening attitude of the dog, stopped, and said: “Why, Judge, don’t you know me?” Instead of making up, after this, Judge became more determined to stop the officer. He hurried to the walkway, fixed himself, and made ready for a stubborn resistance.

“Judge! Judge!” said Col. Black or Pitts, which ever it was. But Judge heard him not.

Dr. Graham, seeing the predicament of the officer from within the house, came out and assured Judge that all was well, and he dropped his tail, and went toward the kitchen, carrying an ugly case of the sulks, seeming badly put out because he did not get to bite the caller.

At midnight of the same day, Judge joined Col. Black and Pitts on their rounds, as bright and cheerful as ever.

The two men reasoned it out after this fashion: “Well, I guess he is right. We are the stuff when it comes to beating around the city, keeping out burglars and thieves, but must stay in our places. Judge thought we were going to make a social call.”

Judge grew greater in their estimation. They cursed him at first, but finally came to the conclusion that as Mr. Hyde he is on an equality with policemen, but as Dr. Jekyll out of their class.

Marse Lawrence and Trouble.