"Three loaves of bread," he read from a slip, "eighteen cents. A pound and a half of cheese, thirty cents. And," he looked maliciously at Jeff, "four pounds of the best ground steak for the dog, one dollar." Jeff grinned; his own words had backfired on him. He had intended to give Pal a loaf of bread and a half pound of cheese, to offer the same to those in the next cell, and to keep as much for himself. But he did not lose his aplomb. "Exactly!" he exclaimed. "Just what I wanted! But I wouldn't think of paying in money when I can offer something of great value! Now--" "Give me the money," Pop growled. "A dollar and forty-eight cents." "Oh, well, if you must be crass--" Jeff gave him a dollar bill and forty-eight cents in change. "Give my pals in the next cell a loaf of bread and a pound of cheese." "Thanks!" Ike said feelingly, and even the silent Bucky mumbled his gratitude. Jeff laid his pack on the lower bunk, put his food on the pack, and made two sandwiches with a half pound of raw ground steak between each. He spread a paper, scooped two pounds of steak upon it, and gave it to Pal. The rest of the steak he passed into the next cell. "This," Ike exclaimed, "is as good as a hotel! Best grub I ever threw a lip over! Jeff, if ever you want a helping hand, you can count on me and Bucky!" "I'll remember," Jeff promised. He ate his two sandwiches while Pal licked thoroughly the paper in which the steak had been wrapped. Then he looked up appealingly and Jeff threw him a quarter loaf of bread. The rest of the food he put in his pack. He heard Ike's whispered, "Jeff." Jeff went to the front of the cell. "Yes?" "You want to get out of here, I'll make like I'm sick. When that old fool comes in, Bucky and me will grab him and get his keys. We'll give 'em to you and you can beat it." "What about you?" "Ha!" Ike scoffed. "They can't do much more to us than they're already going to do!" "Thanks just the same, but we'd better not." "You like this hole?" "No, but there must be a better way." "There's none quicker." "I know. Thanks anyway. Why don't you two get out?" "We don't das't," Ike mourned. "How'd we know, when we got Bill Wheeler's chickens, that Bill'd call his seven brothers in? They're asettin' round the town, just waitin' for me and Bucky to break loose, and every one of 'em with a rifle. When Bucky and me go out of Cressman, we got to go with officers." Jeff chuckled. "Too bad, Ike. But I don't want to break jail." The day wore on. Grown accustomed to the candle light, the cockroaches came out of their cracks and scurried across the floor. This proved vastly intriguing to Pal, who watched them interestedly. He made quick little rushes, but the cockroaches always escaped. Jeff walked restlessly around the small cell. There had to be a way out because there was a way out of everything, but he could think of nothing. Suddenly inspired, he called, "Pop!" "What?" "I--I just wanted to see if you were still there."