“Are you really going to rob me of my bed?” inquired Josephs slowly and firmly.
“Rob you, you young dog? Here is the governor's order. No bed and gas for fourteen days.”
“No bed nor gas for fourteen days! Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!”
“Oh, you laugh at that, do you?”
“I laugh at Mr. Hawes thinking to keep me out of bed for fourteen days, a poor wornout boy like me. You tell Hawes I'll find a bed in spite of him long before fourteen days.”
Hodges looked about the cell for this other bed. “Come,” said he, “you must not chaff the officers. The governor will serve you out enough without your giving us any of your sauce.”
Hodges was going with the bed. Josephs stopped him. The boy took this last blow quite differently from the gas; no impatience or burst of sorrow now.
“Won't you bid me good-by, Mr. Hodges?” asked he.
“Why not? Good-night.”
“That isn't what I mean. Mr. Evans gave me his hand.”