let Stuhlmiller,
Bell and the other two who march in front of me pass by; then fall in
between them and the next man. We traverse the short gallery to the right,
descend the iron steps and line up in the corridor; standing motionless,
with folded arms. As the Captain's stick strikes the stone pavement the
line begins to move. Then at a second rap we march rapidly to the
mess-hall. Just within the door we salute the P. K.; then swing to the
right, turn to the left, pass alongside the men who have already taken
their seats and are eating, and reach our shelf or table. As we stand at
our places, comes one rap; and we lean down and pull out our stools,
standing again erect. A second rap; and we sit. Throughout the meal the
Captain stands, rigid and silent, in the aisle at our right.

Our Saturday breakfast is rice; which I eat with relish. My appetite is in
excellent working order this morning, after a good night's rest; and I am
feeling in fine physical condition. There can be no question about the
punishment cell; no one who feels as well as I do has any excuse for not
misbehaving himself. In dressing this morning I took up my belt another
notch. My youngest was quite right when he asserted that I should not be
so fat when I came out; I must have lost several pounds.

I carefully avoid the coffee this morning; no more bootleg for me! I
reserve my thirst for a good drink of water when I get back to the cell.

Already, while we are stowing away our breakfast, the companies in our
rear are departing; and now our turn comes. One rap; and we rise and set
back our stools. A second rap; and spoons in hand (no use for knives and
forks at this breakfast) we march in double file down the middle
aisle,--holding our spoons high for the officers to see and dropping them
into the proper receptacles at the door. Then back through the stone
corridor, up the iron stairs and along the gallery to the cells. In these,
as there is the wait of half an hour or more before shop-time, we are
double-locked.

And now comes Dickinson, to wish me a final good-bye. He is in his
citizen's clothes, and can hardly wait to have the gate shut behind him.

He assures me again of his desire and intention to go straight and make
good; and I put through the bars two fingers which he grasps as fervently
as he would my whole hand, if he could get it. Another moment, and the
brave, well-meaning fellow is gone. If a man like this does not succeed,
it is not hi