As we turn into the yard, I see a group of men gathered about the entrance of the main building. I suspect it to be the same party of rubbernecks the Warden conducted through the shop this afternoon--including my friends. They are evidently waiting for us to march by. As we draw nearer I find that my suspicions are confirmed. I conclude that they failed to discover me in the shop, and so are taking this means of gratifying their curiosity. They are welcome to do so. I look as unconscious as possible; go swinging by the group, eyes front; pick up a slice of bread and regain my cell as usual. It seems that this time two or three of them, recognizing my walk, spotted me at last. I should think it was about time. Soon after I am in the cell my friend Joe, the gallery boy, comes along with the hot beverage called tea, which is a little later than usual to-night. He halts at the door. "Tea, Tommy?" One of the prisoners has sent me a letter in which he addresses me as "old pal." I think there is no doubt that the barriers are down now. CHAPTER IX WEDNESDAY EVENING In my cell, later Wednesday evening, October 2. Upon arriving back here this afternoon, and before sitting down to my usual supper of bread and water, I shave leisurely. In spite of the jar of hot water which George has kindly brought to the cell before I am locked in for the night, my toilet arrangements leave much to be desired. It is true I have shaved at times under greater disadvantages. As, for instance, in camp, when I have had to use the inside of my watch-cover for a mirror. Here in prison I have at least a real mirror, such as it is. My toilet completed, I make as much of a meal as I can of bread and water. Then I take up my journal to chronicle the events of the day. The twenty minutes of musical pandemonium come and go, the violinist as usual being the first to begin. Perhaps he may be the fortunate possessor of a watch. Then, also as usual, a silence follows, rendered all the more profound by reason of the previous discord. The cell-house has settled down for the night. Only a few muffled sounds make the stillness more distinctly felt. Then---- Suddenly the unearthly quiet is shattered by a terrifying uproar. It is too far away to hear at first anything with distinctness; it is all a confused and hideous mass of shouting--a shouting first of a few, then of more, then of many voices. I have never heard anything more dreadful--in the full meaning of the word--full of dread. My heart is thumping like a trip hammer, and the cold shivers run up and down my back. I jump to the door of the cell, pressing my ear close against the cold iron bars. Then I can distinguish a few words sounding against the background of the confused outcry. "Stop that!" "Leave him alone!" "Damn you, stop that!" Then some dull thuds; I even fancy that I hear something like a groan, along with the continued confused and violent shouting. What can it be?