Dawson’s eyes lost their deathlike stare. He slumped. Mills supported him almost gently now. Dawson nodded and Mills took his hand away. Tim spoke softly. “Why did you want to speak to Senn?” Dawson gave a quick little sigh and stared down at the splintering floor. The room was silent. Tim heard footsteps in the hall downstairs. Dawson raised his head as if to speak, but Tim signaled for quiet, and Dawson looked down like a feverish child. Addison’s voice came up the stairs. “What’s all that knocking about up there?” Red called, “Indian wrestling. Want to come up and try your hand?” Addison grunted and moved away. “Well, Dawson,” said Tim. Dawson’s voice came high and thin. “Mills heard me wrong.” Mills took a fresh grip on Dawson’s blouse. “I heard you clear,” he said. “You’ll get the knife if you don’t tell us straight what was in your mind.” Dawson collapsed, his body shaken by shuddering, racking sobs. Mills eased him to the floor, and Frazer struck out with his hand and tore off one of Dawson’s shoulder straps with its Captain’s bars outlined in threadbare, greenish gold. “You’re not fit to carry a private’s slop,” he said. Dawson grasped at his shoulder as if he’d been stabbed. Tim said, “All right now, Frazer. Let me talk to him.” Tim looked into Dawson’s eyes. “If you give me your word you won’t tell anyone about our plan, now or any other time, I promise not to leave this jail till every prisoner has sworn that you’ll come to no harm.” Dawson said thinly, “Why should I strike a bargain with you?” “I’m not bargaining,” Tim said evenly. “I’m giving you a chance to save your skin.” Dawson lowered his eyes. His lower lip quivered and he looked up at Tim, then down again. “You have my word.” Mills and Tim got to their feet and left the room. The others followed, leaving Dawson alone on the floor. Halfway down the corridor Mills turned to Tim. “I better watch Dawson from now until tomorrow morning.” The other men crowded around, and Frazer said, “I’ll watch him too.” “One man is enough,” Mills said. “I’ll go back and talk to him.” Tim’s hands trembled as he hacked the old blanket in half with Frazer’s knife. That business with Dawson had shaken him up. Senn had said that an extra hand could go to the kitchen to do the wash and help with the chores. It seemed that all they’d had to do was ask. Now it should be easy to smuggle the blankets into the yard. Tim fetched the wooden laundry buckets. He and Red stripped their bunks and folded their blankets, squashing them into the bottoms of the buckets and covering them with a scattering of dirty underclothes they had rounded up from the men along the corridor. At four o’clock Addison and another guard trudged up the stairs. Red took one bucket and Allen the other. Tim looked over the room for the last time. A few deft motions of Mills’s skillful hands and the blankets and boots and scraps of clothing would convince the unsuspecting Addison.