w.

"What made you think of that?" I ask.

"Oh, they had a jail suit washed yesterday; so I guess they're getting
ready for you," is the reply.

These men are certainly sharp. They can "see a church by daylight."

We work busily at our basket-making through the morning, Jack and I--our
last day together. I am actually beginning to feel that, if it were not
for the pressure of business in my office and some engagements in New York
City next week, I should like to stay longer among these new friends. But
it may not be. I have secured what I came for--far more than I expected.
And now the next question is: what can be done with this knowledge? How
can it be utilized for the state? and incidentally to help these men who
need help so badly?

The noon-hour approaches. "Is it good-bye, now, Tom?" says my partner,
sadly.

"Oh, no," I answer. "You don't get rid of me so easily as that. I shall be
back this afternoon."

Jack looks relieved; and we fall into line as usual--the last time I shall
march out of the shop with these men, my close prison companions of six
days.

Down to the bucket stands; up the yard; into the north wing; up the iron
stairs; along the gallery; and around the corner to my cell. Then off with
my cap and coat; some water on my face; a comb passed through my hair and
I am ready for dinner. I have time to write a few paragraphs in my journal
before we march to the mess-room.

For dinner roast beef, potatoes and some sort of preserve; quite the best
meal we have had. I must eat enough to last over until to-morrow morning;
although for that matter the supper in jail will be similar to those I've
had every day--bread and water. But I feel as if the ordeal I am to pass
through may need all my strength. So I make good use of my knife and fork;
and again find the dinner time almost too short for a square meal.

Back to the cell, where I arrange everything for an indefinite absence.
Then, as I am writing in my journal, I am interrupted by the arrival of
Grant. He comes to find out if there is any change of mind on my part
regarding the jail; and, if not, to make final arrangements. I tell him I
never felt in better health; and that I'm ready to carry out the plan made
last night. "I will strike work," I tell him, "between half past three
and four; and be sent to the jail. You had better come for me there about
seven o'clock. Don't make it any later," I add, "because I certainly will
have had a sufficient