“I’ll tell you, by God! If everybody will go, I’ll go too, for I’m just dying of hunger. It’s all very well for those who eat at a better table, apart, to keep quiet; but those who eat the regulation food——”
“There’s a fellow with eyes that do their work, bursting with envy he is. Don’t his eyes glisten when he sees something that doesn’t belong to him?”
“Well, pals, why don’t we make up our minds? Have we gone through enough? They flay us, the brigands! Let’s go at them.”
“What’s the good? I tell you ye must chew what they give you, and stuff your mouth full of it. Look at the fellow, he wants people to chew his food for him. We’re in prison, and have got to stand it.”
“Yes, that’s it; we’re in prison.”
“That’s it always; the people die of hunger, and the Government fills its belly.”
“That’s true. Our eight-eyes (the Major) has got finely fat over it; he’s bought a pair of gray horses.”
“He don’t like his glass at all, that fellow,” said a convict ironically.
“He had a bout at cards a little while ago with the vet; for two hours he played without a half-penny in his pocket. Fedka told me so.”