"I mean that the rattan has been very stiff and rotten, and my fingers are getting badly swollen and blistered. We have complained but it doesn't seem to make any difference. The rattan is as bad as ever; and I shall not go on with it." "Do I understand that you refuse to work?" "Well, that's about the size of it." There is an instant's pause. Then---- "Go and get your coat and cap." The foregoing colloquy has been carried on in low tones for I have no wish to disturb the shop, or make a show of rebellion.[14] I make my way back to our work-table. "Well, Jack, I'm in for it!" "What did you tell him?" "I refused to work any longer." "Gee! You'll get it in the neck, sure enough. You've committed a serious offense." "That's all right; but I wish my hands weren't so sticky. I can't get them clean with that cold water." "I'll get you some hot water." Jack goes off to fulfill his errand; and I see that Grant has come into the shop and is talking to Captain Kane. Wondering if this is the first the latter has heard of my plan of action, I take my coat and cap down from the hook and put them on. The men begin to feel that something is up; and a number of them cease work and stare as an officer steps up to our table. "Thomas Brown." "Yes, sir." "Come with me." For a moment I wonder what he would do if I refused. I should like to try; but reluctantly conclude it would be better not. I turn and get one last glimpse of Jack's mournful face, as he stands at a distance with the pail of hot water which he has just secured. Waving my hand to him and stepping off in front of the officer, I make my way out of the shop in the face of its surprised inmates. In this order we traverse the yard; and again, as on the day of my advent, I feel strangely conscious of many sharp eyes looking out from the various buildings. It is about half past three o'clock. Just at the end of the south wing is a low building faced with stone, upon the ground floor of which is the jail office. The keeper who has me in charge guides me in and orders me to sit down. I do so. He then exchanges a few words with Captain Martin, who presides at the desk; hands him a yellow slip of paper and disappears up the yard toward the main building. As I have said before, the one necessary virtue of prison life seems to be patience. I sit, and sit; and my sitting continues, as Mark Twain says about the circular staircase at Niagara Falls, "long after it has ceased to be a novelty and terminates long before it begins to be a pleasure."