ollege makeup and a prison towel in his hand. All the boys
stood quiet and watched. In fact nine out of ten had a lump in his throat
too big to swallow. I must confess I got a cold chill that ran down my
back, and it jumped from limb to limb like a cobblestone. Well, after we
all came to, "our brave Tom" was locked in his cell, 15-2-N.N.W.; and then
the stoolpigeons was put to work to watch who went to speak with him.

These extracts, which are given verbatim, throw interesting sidelights
upon the attitude and state of mind of the prisoners--their extreme
sensitiveness, their instant response to kindness, real or fancied, their
relations to their keepers, their ready cheerfulness and sense of humor.
As one can see, there was arising among them at the very outset something
quite unexpected--a deep sense of gratitude for what they persisted in
thinking a great sacrifice on my part; an eager answer to the sympathy
from the outer world which my coming among them typified. The lump in the
throat at the first sight of Tom Brown clad as a convict is significant of
many things. The fact that they all greatly exaggerated my personal
discomfort and in so many ways gave me credit where none was due, is only
an evidence of their hunger for the human relationship, for that sympathy
from our fellowmen which we all crave so intensely, and from which
convicts are very far from exempt. There is no need to comment further
upon these interesting extracts.

It is a real pity that we can not have as well the views of the third
party in the affair--the keepers. Frank comment from them would be also
most valuable. I only hope that the one who, on a certain occasion,
invited and came very near receiving, personal violence by ejaculating,
"Damn fool!" behind my back, represented an exception. Unquestionably,
however, he did voice a considerable amount of official sentiment within
the prison, as well as much unofficial sentiment outside. That was so
natural as to be inevitable. There are always those who will misunderstand
one's motives and actions, no matter how plain the explanation may be.

CHAPTER IV

MONDAY AFTERNOON

Later in the day; about 5:30, I think; I have no watch and nowhere
does there seem to be a clock in sight, so I am necessarily rather
vague as to the exact time.

I am again double locked in my cell, this time for the
night--fourteen mortal hours.

For me there is plenty to do--to wri