"Don't you contradict me. Stand back in your hole there. Don't you be leanin' on th' door, d'ye hear?"
Down the hall the guard shouts: "Hey you, cripple! Talkin' there, wasn't you?"
"No, sir."
"Don't you dare lie to me. You was."
"Swear to God I wasn't."
"W-a-all, if I ever catch you talkin' to that s—— of a b——, I'll fix you."
The scratching of the broom has ceased. The rangeman is dusting the doors. The even strokes of the cat-o'-nine-tails sound nearer. Again the man stops at my door, his head turning right and left, the while he diligently plies the duster.
"Aleck," he whispers, "be careful of that screw. He's a ——. See him jump on me?"