“What d’ye mean?” I asked.
“Come here, and you’ll know what I mean,” he answered. And he led me down the passage to a window that overlooked the door of the prison. “Look at that!” said he.
I looked out, and there were a dozen or so rough-looking fellows standing outside the street, some of them smoking, some playing cards on the pavement. When they saw me they gave a yell and crowded round the door, shaking their fists and hooting.
“They wait for you, watch and watch about,” said the governor. “They’re the executive of the vigilance committee. However, since you are determined to go, I can’t stop you.”
“D’ye call this a civilized land,” I cried, “and let a man be murdered in cold blood in open daylight?”
When I said this the governor and the warder and every fool in the place grinned, as if a man’s life was a rare good joke.
“You’ve got the law on your side,” says the governor; “so we won’t detain you any longer. Show him out, warder.”
He’d have done it, too, the black-hearted villain, if I hadn’t begged and prayed and offered to pay for my board and lodging, which is more than any prisoner ever did before me. He let me stay on those conditions; and for three months I was caged up there with every larrikin in the township clamoring at the other side of the wall. That was pretty treatment for a man that had served his country!
At last, one morning up came the governor again.
“Well, Maloney,” he said, “how long are you going to honor us with your society?”