There came a call of, "All outside!" echoing through the halls; a rush of feet again, a hushed succeeding silence. The half-mad ogre went to the window and slyly beckoned Fred to follow. He crawled out of bed and took his place before the iron bars. The man pointed a skinny finger; Fred's gaze followed. He found himself looking down upon a stone-paved yard filled with loathsome human wreckage--gibbering cripples, drooling monsters, vacant-eyed corpses with only the motions of life. Some had their hands strapped to their sides, others were almost naked. They sang, shouted, and laughed, prayed or were silent, according to their mental infirmities. It was an inferno all the more horrible because of its reality, a relentless nightmare from which there was no awakening. Fred heard the man at his side chuckling ferociously. His tormentor was laughing with insane cruelty. "The bull pen! Ha, ha, ha!" Fred made his way back to his bed. Midway he stopped. "Does everybody ..." he began to stammer--"does everybody ... or only those who ..." He broke off in despair. What could this mad giant tell him? But almost before the thought had escaped him his companion read his thought with uncanny precision. "You think I don't know!" the man said, tapping his head significantly. "But everybody ... they all ask me the same question. Yes ... you'll take your turn, my friend. Don't be afraid. They'll give you the air in the bull pen, all right! Ha, ha, ha!" And with that he picked up the dishpan of untasted breakfast and hurried from the room. Fred Starratt sank down upon the bed. His temples were throbbing and his body wet with an icy sweat. * * * * * He was roused by a vigorous but not ungentle tap upon the shoulder. He stumbled to his feet, shaking himself into a semblance of courage. But instead of the malevolent giant of the breakfast hour, a genial man of imposing bulk stood before him. "My name is Harrison," his visitor began, kindly; "I'm an assistant to the superintendent... Perhaps you'd like to tell me something about yourself?" Fred drew back a trifle. "Must I?..." Harrison smiled as he seated himself in the chair. "No ... but they usually do ... after the first night... It helps, sometimes, to talk." "I am afraid there's nothing to tell... I'm here, and I'll make the best of it..." Fred wiped the clammy sweat from his forehead with a gesture of despair. Harrison leaned forward. "Don't you feel well?" he inquired. "It's nothing... I looked out into the yard this morning... I dare say one gets used to it--but for the moment... You have other yards, I suppose... That is, I sha'n't have to take the air there ... shall I ... in the bull pen?" "It's usual ... for the first day or two. But perhaps in your case--" Harrison broke off. "However, I can't promise anything... If you'll come to the office I'll give you back your clothes."