After Dickinson's departure comes one of the trusties, bringing the information which I passed the word along yesterday to get for me. Then I write in my journal and read some of the kites which have reached me. The latest one I find under the blankets,--tucked into the strap which holds up my mattress--a most ingenious hiding place. Then comes work-time. Again the captain unlocks the levers; and again I follow along the gallery to the iron stairway and the yard door. After a much shorter period of waiting than at our earlier march, we start off and go directly down the yard and around the corner to the basket-shop. "Good morning, Tom!" "Good morning, Jack!" and we are off to work in good time. "Well, old pal, how are you feeling to-day?" I look up and catch an anxious look in my partner's eyes. I laugh as I answer: "Oh, I'm all right; and in fine fighting trim." I know what he means; and he knows what I mean. It is the shadow of the jail that is between us. "Come on now, Jack," I say; "don't worry about me. I shall get through it all right." "But you don't know what it means," he insists anxiously. "One hour of that misery is worse than a week of the worst kind of pain. You'd better think it over." "Well, I'll tell you, Jack; I have reconsidered it and I don't believe I shall stay so long as I intended. In fact I had planned to go down this morning but I shall wait until afternoon. I'll get all I want of it in about three or four hours." "You can just bet you will," and Jack turns away with a discouraged air to pick up a fresh batch of rattan. I'm afraid he thinks me a very obstinate and unreasonable person. The rattan seems to be worse than ever this morning. They've tried cold water, and they've tried hot water, and they've tried steam; but like the White Queen's shawl, "there's no pleasing it." It still remains quite unfit to work with; and for the sake of the future usefulness of my fingers I can't help thinking it's just as well that my prison bit is drawing to a close. As we are working away, one of our shopmates comes over to me (the same who accused me yesterday of working too hard) and says: "Well, Brown, I think you must be taking in the jail to-day." My surprise is great. No one, except Jack, Grant and the Warden, were aware of my intention, so far as I knew. "What made you think of that?" I ask. "Oh, they had a jail suit washed yesterday; so I guess they're getting ready for you," is the reply. These men are certainly sharp. They can "see a church by daylight."