umber Two about a few topics of
general interest; and then, yawning, expresses his own intention of going
to sleep. There are a few scattered incidental remarks at ever longer
intervals. Then as I listen carefully and hear nothing in the next cell, I
conclude that Number Two is safely over the strain for the time; that with
Joe's help he has conquered his black mood and is back on the right road
again.

Good for you, Joe! Whatever your sins and failures of the past, whatever
your failures and sins of the future, I do not believe that the Recording
Angel will forget to jot down something to your credit for this night in
Cell Four.

Quiet has settled upon us. There is heavy breathing in some of the cells,
and I think that even Joe is contradicting his statement regarding sleep
in the jail. But for a long time I can get no such relief. My ever
increasing sympathy and anger are making me feverish. But at last,
somewhere near midnight as near as I can judge, I do succeed in dropping
off to sleep. It is a restless slumber at the best, for I am repeatedly
made aware of some bone or muscle with the existence of which I am not
usually concerned. So I twist and turn, as every few moments I am hazily
and painfully aroused into semi-consciousness.

But even this restless slumber is denied me. Before I have found relief in
it for more than half an hour I am suddenly and roughly awakened. The door
of the cell is rattled violently and a harsh voice calls out, "Here!
Answer to your name! Brown!"

Recovering my dazed and scattered senses as well as I can, I reply, "Here,
sir!" and have a mind to add, "Still alive," but suppress the impulse as I
wish to ask a favor.

"Officer," I say, as politely as possible, "that poor fellow in the next
cell has tipped over his can of water. Can't you let him have some more?"

The answer is far more courteous than I deserve for such an unheard-of and
scandalous proposition. The keeper says shortly and gruffly, "'Fraid I
can't. 'Gainst the rules." And he coolly proceeds to wake up the occupants
of the other cells.

Setting my teeth firmly together, while the blood goes rushing to my
temples, I feel for the moment as if I should smother. Perhaps it is as
well that I am under lock and key, for I should like to commit murder. To
think that any man can grow so callous to human suffering as to forget
the very first duty of humanity. Even soldiers on the battlefield will
give a drink of water to a dyi