to the sheriff's
political opponent. He said that his experience in jails had been that a
complaint on the food along about election time always brought good
results. Joe was not interested in the matter to that extent. He told
the fellow that he did not expect to be a permanent occupant of the
jail.

"You think you'll go down the river for a double-nine?" he asked.

"I don't know what you mean," said Joe.

"To the pen for life, kid; that's what I mean."

"I don't know," said Joe gloomily.

"Well, say, I tell you, if they give you the other," said the friendly
thief, lifting his naturally high voice to make it carry along the
echoing passage, "you'll git plenty to eat, and three times a day, too.
When they put a feller in the death-cell they pass in the finest chuck
in the land. You know, if a feller's got a smart lawyer he can keep up
that line of eatin' for maybe two or three years by appealin' his case
and dodges like that."

"I don't want to talk," said Joe.

"Oh, all right, kid," said the thief flippantly. Then he rattled his
grated door to draw Joe's attention.

"But, 'y God, kid, the day's comin' to you when you will want to talk,
and when you'd give the teeth out of your mouth, and nearly the eyes out
of your head, for the sound of a friendly human voice aimed at you. Let
'em take you off down the river to Jeff' City and put you behind them
tall walls once, where the best you hear's a cuss from a guard, and
where you march along with your hands on the shoulders of the man in
front of you; and another one behind you does the same to you, and their
eyes all down and their faces the color of corpses, and _then_ you'll
know!

"You'll hear them old fellers, them long-timers, whisperin' in the
night, talkin' to theirselves, and it'll sound to you like wind in the
grass. And you'll think of grass and trees and things like that on the
outside, and you'll feel like you want to ram your head ag'in' the wall
and yell. Maybe you'll do it--plenty of 'em does--and then they'll give
you the water-cure, they'll force it down you with a hose till you think
you'll bust. I tell you, kid, I _know_, 'y God! I've been there--but not
for no double-nine like they'll give you."

The man's voice seemed to be hanging and sounding yet in the corridor,
even after he was silent, his cruel picture standing in distorted fancy
before Joe's eyes. Joe wiped the sweat from his forehead, breathing
through his open mouth.

"Well, may