rections.
I know of no other instance where the power of suggestion can give so much
discomfort. Once mention vermin, and all repose of mind is gone for me
until I can reach a bathtub. Just at present, however, I should feel
grateful if I could even wash my hands.

Stretched on the floor at the back of the cell I try to find a comfortable
position, but without success. I toss and turn on the hard boards, and
finally give a groan of discouragement.

"What's the matter, Tom?" Number Four is alert as usual.

"Oh, nothing, only I can't find a soft spot in this confounded place. It
wouldn't be so bad if I had a pillow."

"Guess you don't know how to sleep on the floor," says Joe, and he
proceeds to give useful instructions as to the best means of arriving at a
minimum of discomfort. Following Joe's advice, I remove my felt shoes, and
with my shirt rolled up on top of them have a very fair pillow. My coat
must be taken off and thrown over the body as a coverlet, for one gets
more warmth and comfort in this way than when it is worn. As I make these
changes I also shift my place in the cell, moving over toward the door;
for just as Joe is giving me his suggestions, a suspicious crawling on my
neck gives the chance to remove a large-sized bedbug which, in spite of
the special cleaning the cell had undergone just before my arrival, has
found its way in.

And now comes a weird episode of this strange night's experience. What the
hour is I can only guess; but, having heard the distant sounds of the nine
o'clock train going west, and the nine-fifty going east, I think it must
be in the neighborhood of half past ten. Lying on the hard floor I am
feeling not sleepy, but very tired--drowsy from sheer mental exhaustion. I
hear my name called again, asking if I am still awake, but I do not
answer, for I hardly know whether I am or not.

Suddenly a wail comes from the next cell, "Oh, my God! I've tipped over my
water!"

For an instant I feel as if I must make an attempt to batter down the
iron wall between us. I have been hoarding my own water; let me share it
with that poor sick boy. But the next thought brings me to my senses. I am
powerless. I can only listen to the poor fellow's groans, while tears of
rage and sympathy are wiped from my eyes on the sleeve of my soiled and
ragged shirt.

"How did it happen?" I hear Joe ask.

"Oh, I just turned over and stretched my legs out and kicked the can over.
And now--I can't get any w