"They'll think I'm luney, fer sure, the magistrate, an' the hull dang bunch, an' mebbe they'll not be fer astray. What's the use of bein' a public benefactor if ye've got to eat this stuff?" He glanced at the bread he was holding in his hands. "Ugh! What trash! Heavy as lead, soggy, an' sure death. Well, I'm not goin' to commit suicide yit a while. The rats kin if they want to."
Tossing the bread into a corner of the room, he went into his narrow cell, and stretched himself out upon his hard rough cot.
"Might as well take life easy," he soliloquized. "What's the use of worryin', anyway. Guess a nap'll do me good."
He had no intention of sleeping and was quite surprised when he at length opened his eyes and saw a young man standing by his side.
"Where in h—l am I?" the visitor unceremoniously asked.
Abner looked curiously at the man without replying. He noted his bloodshot eyes, unshaven, haggard face, unkempt hair, and dirty, dishevelled clothes.
"Are you deaf?" the fellow demanded. "Didn't you hear what I said?"
"Oh, yes, I heard, all right," Abner drawled. "But I was merely tryin' to figger out what part of the hot place you've jist come from."
The wild-eyed youth emitted a hoarse mirthless laugh. "I certainly have come from a hot place, the hottest I ever struck."
"Well, ye don't tell! Ye sartinly look it. Run up aginst somethin' pretty hard, eh?"