"Well, as you know, I don't wish to be a fool about this thing, nor do I want to run any unnecessary risk. To-day I felt very sick; and, to be quite frank, if I should feel to-morrow as I did to-day I couldn't be hired to go to jail. But I feel so much better to-night that I think I shall be in good condition to-morrow. So what I propose is this. Let Dan come here to-morrow noon, and if I feel all right we can put through our plan. I did intend to go down to the jail to-morrow morning, so as to have the whole twenty-four hours there; but it would be better to wait until after dinner. There is no use in taking too large a dose. I ought to get all necessary information in--say, four hours. "Some time in the afternoon, then, I will simply strike work. Grant can tip off the Captain; and he will send me to the P. K. Of course, if a fellow refuses to work, the only thing they can do is to send him to the punishment cells. If you were to be here I had thought of putting in a warden's call; and then of being so insolent to you that you would have no recourse but to order me punished. I should quite enjoy telling you what I think of your rotten old institution. But if you're going away that plan's no good, so we'll try the other." "I think your present plan is better," says the Warden. "I should hate to have you tell me what you really think of us. Well, that ought to work out all right. Now how long do you say you want to stay there?" "Well, I don't know that I'm anxious to stay any longer than just to get a good idea of what the place is like. I want to feel the flavor of it. But if I should be down there alone, it won't be very exciting. Suppose I go down about four o'clock; and Dan can come down and let me out about eight, or half-past seven, or say, seven. I think three hours will be a big enough dose." "I've ordered some clothes cleaned for you," says the Warden, "so those are all right. Well, Dan," he adds, turning to Grant, "is everything perfectly clear?" Thus it is arranged. I say good-bye to the Warden; and tell him that the Chaplain has asked me to say a few words to the men in chapel on Sunday. The Warden thinks it a good idea, and adds that the details about my leaving the prison can be arranged with Grant to-morrow. The general plan is that I shall go out on Sunday, marching back with the men after the chapel exercises. I can then take my belongings from the cell and go quietly up to the Warden's quarters, where I can wash and dress. Our plans being thus settled, my visitors depart. Now to bed to see if I can get a good sleep in preparation for the most exciting part of my exciting adventure. It is curious how far I have fallen into the prison rut. In the evening I find myself no longer thinking of my home or wondering what my family and friends are doing, unless I make a conscious mental effort. The tendency of this life is always to flatten one's thoughts, like one's actions, to a gray uniformity--a deadening routine.