Part 33 (1/2)
”Officer, isn't my time up yet?”
”What's your hurry? You've only been here one day”
The doors fall to Ravenously I devour the bread, so small and thin, just a bite Only _one_ day! Despair enfolds uish, I sink to the floor
II
The change froeon to the ordinary cell is a veritable transforht, the sound of voices is sweet rip of death when all hope had fled ht on the very brink, as it were, and restored to the world of the living How bright the sun, how balmy the air! In keen sensuousness I stretch out on the bed The tick is soiled, the straw protrudes in places, but it is luxury to rest, secure from the vicious river rats and the fierce ver I awake in great agony My eyes throb with pain; every joint of my body is on the rack The blankets had been rehts I lay on the bare stone It was unnecessarily cruel to deprive me of my spectacles, in pretended anxiety lest I co, this solicitude for my safety, in view of the fli the Warden But what can it be? Probably they will not keepin the cell When I am returned to work, I shall learn the truth
The days pass in vain expectation The continuous confine I miss the little cole” cell, considerably smaller than my previous quarters My library, also, has disappeared, and the pictures I had so patiently collected for the decoration of the walls The cell is bare and cheerless, the large card of ugly-printed rules affording no relief fro ash The narrow spaceat every second and third step transfor into a series of contortions But some means must be devised to while away the ti the seconds required toheard that five miles constitutes a healthy day's walk At that rate I should th I divide the exercise into three parts, adding a few extra laps to make sure of five miles
Carefully I count, and a confuses e of location has interrupted communication with my comrades
I am apprehensive of the fate of the _Prison Blosso connections doubtful I a but a few feet distant from the officers' desk at the yard door Watchful eyes are constantly upon me; it is ie ainst him: he is a ”stool” who has earned his position as trusty by spying upon the inmates I can expect no help from him; but perhaps the coffee-boyto approach the man, when I am informed that prisoners froallery Byeon The discontent of the shop employees with the insufficient rations was intensified by the arrival of a wagon-load of bad meat The stench per uncoravated by an additional increase of the task The knitters and loopers were on the verge of rebellion Tithin the ed
They sent to the Warden a request for a reduction; in reply ca order for a further increase Then a score ofto return to the shop unless the demand for better food and less as complied with With the aid of inforation One by one the refractory prisoners were forced to submit By a process of elimination the authorities sifted the situation, and now it is whispered about that a decision has been reached, placing responsibility for the unique episode of a strike in the prison
An air of e them in conversation, but the least reference to the strike seals their lips I wonder at the peculiar looks they regard me with, when unexpectedly the cause is revealed
III
It is Sunday noon The range the tier
I stand at the door, ready to receive the lances at me, then motions to the prisoner The cart rolls past my cell
”Officer,” I call out, ”you missed me”
”Smell the pot-pie, do you?”
”Where's et none”
The odor of the stea delicacy, so keenly looked forward to every second Sunday, reaches ly all week in expectation of the treat, and now--I a so uncererily I rap the cup across the door; again and again I strike the tin against it, the successive falls frouard hastens along ”Stop that damn racket,” he coet dinner”
”Yes, you did”
”I did not”
”Well, I s'pose you don't deserve it”