"How do the men treat you?" "As fine a lot of fellows as I was ever thrown with." The Warden and Grant stifle their laughter. "Well," I remark, "I suppose it does sound rather funny, but I mean it. I wouldn't ask for any better treatment than I'm getting. The men are certainly acting like gentlemen. They are doing just what I asked of them--treating me exactly like one of themselves; and as for my partner, Murphy, we're the very best of friends. He's a fine fellow. But look here," I continue, "I'm making no kick, and I'm perfectly satisfied where I am; but what was the reason for the change of plan? Why didn't the P. K. put me where we had decided? When shall I be placed with that tough bunch?" This time my two visitors cannot control their amusement; they laugh loudly. "Why," says the Warden, as soon as he can catch his breath, "you are with the tough bunch!" "Oh, come off! you know what I mean, the Idle Company that I was to be placed with for the first day or two." "You're with the Idle Company," explains the Warden; "only they're not idle any longer, they've been put to work. It is the same one where we planned for you to begin." I was never more surprised; but in order to turn the joke on them I assume the toughest manner at my disposal and say, "Gee! Did you think I wasn't wise? I was only kiddin' youse guys! But take this from me--straight. If we're the toughest bunch in this stir the other guys must be skypilots, all right!" "Well, he seems to be getting some of the lingo down pretty fine," is Grant's quiet comment; and then we turn seriously to the events of the day, to my health and other matters. The Warden describes his visit to the shop with the newspaper men, and the failure of all concerned, including himself, to recognize me. I tell him that it is quite evident that the prison atmosphere has been successful in disguising my individuality, at least so far as appearance is concerned. Then, after some more serious talk, we reach an agreement of opinion that I am probably getting as much experience as possible where I am now working; and so it would be better to continue in the basket-shop for the present. The Warden makes me a promise to come again to-morrow evening, and they take their departure. I wish they'd come back, I haven't talked half enough. The Warden told me that one of the convicts who works in his household quarters locks in (to use the prison expression denoting temporary residence) next to me--Number 14 on this tier; and that he had felt rather hurt that I did not answer his taps. It seems that after finishing his evening's work he gets back to his cell at ten o'clock, and that he tapped me a greeting last night. That was just about the time I fell asleep. I remember getting the impression in a vague way of some noises on the gallery near by, just as I was dropping off; that must have been the night officer letting him into his cell. To-night I shall stay awake and answer his message.