same terms. It was the same crime, the same weapons; 
the same opportunity to plead guilty had been offered 
and refused. Cowperwood looked at this man as in- 
terestedly as he had at Eugster, realizing that he should 
have both of them for companions at the penitentiary for 
the Eastern District. Think, he might even encounter 
them there—have to work with them! 
As Albert Hursted passed by him back to the little 
"pen " room, shunted along by a controlling bailiff, 
August Nunnekamp, the young man charged with horse- 
stealing, was called forward, and stood at the rail, rolling 
his cap, quite pale, evidently underfed, having endured, 
no doubt, a great mental strain for some time past. As 
usual his record was taken by the court stenographer and a 
bailiff, and then Judge Payderson, staring at the indict- 
ment and the subsequent history of his case, asked: 
" Where did you come from, when you first came to 
Philadelphia, Nunnekamp ?" 
" Trenton, sir." 
" What did you do there ?" 
" I worked in a pottery." 
" How did it come that you didn't stay there?" 
" They shut down, most of them, sir, last spring." 
"And then you came to Philadelphia ?" 
" Yes, sir." 
" Why didn't you admit you stole this horse in the first 
place, Nunnekamp, instead of putting the State to all 
this expense of trying you? You did steal it, didn't you?" 
The victim swallowed and licked his lips. He had 
stolen the horse truly enough, but he had been badly 
advised, or not properly influenced to tell the truth in the 
first place. A spindling fourth-rate lawyer had been 
appointed by the court to defend him (seeing that he had 
no money), and Nunnekamp had no confidence in the 
latter. He had been afraid to admit that he had stolen 
the horse, because he fancied an effort was being made to