Just plain ran. Cut and ran, scattering as they went. "Wait!" screamed O'Leary, but they weren't waiting. Cursing himself for letting them get out of hand, O'Leary salvaged two guards and headed on the run for the Old Building, huge and dark, all but the topmost lights of Block O. They saw the medic and his escort disappearing into the bulk of the Old Building and they saw something else. There were inmates between them and the Old Building! The Shops Building lay between--with a dozen more cell blocks over the workshops that gave it its name--and there was a milling rush of activity around its entrance, next to the laundry shed-- The laundry shed. O'Leary stood stock still. Lafon leading the breakout from Block A. The little greaser who was a trusty in the Shops Building sabotaging the yard's tangler circuit. Sauer and Flock taking over the Greensleeves with a manufactured knife and a lot of guts. Did it fit together? Was it all part of a plan? That was something to find out--but not just then. "Come on," O'Leary cried to the two guards, and they raced for the temporary safety of the main gates. The whole prison was up and yelling now. O'Leary could hear scattered shots from the beat guards on the wall--_Over their heads, over their heads!_ he prayed silently. And there were other shots that seemed to come from inside the walls--guards shooting, or convicts with guards' guns, he couldn't tell which. The yard was full of convicts now, in bunches and clumps; but none near the gate. And they seemed to have lost some of their drive. They were milling around, lit by the searchlights from the wall, yelling and making a lot of noise ... but going nowhere in particular. Waiting for a leader, O'Leary thought, and wondered briefly what had become of Lafon. "You Captain O'Leary?" somebody demanded. * * * * * He turned and blinked. Good Lord, the governor! He was coming through the gate, waving aside the gate guards, alone. "You him?" the governor repeated. "All right, glad I found you. I'm going into Block O with you." O'Leary swallowed and waved inarticulately at the teeming cons. True, there were none immediately near by--but there were plenty in the yard! Riots meant breaking things up; already the inmates had started to break up the machines in the laundry shed and the athletic equipment in the yard lockers. When they found a couple of choice breakables like O'Leary and the governor, they'd have a ball! "But, Governor--" "But my foot! Can you get me in there or can't you?" O'Leary gauged their chances. It wasn't more than fifty feet to the main entrance to the Old Building--not at the moment guarded, since all the guards were in hiding or on the walls, and not as yet being invaded by the inmates at large. He said: "You're the boss. Hold on a minute--" The searchlights were on the bare yard cobblestones in front of them; in a moment, the searchlights danced away.