Days in prison tend to be rather boring. Nights are better because one can sleep and forget the boredom for a while; but from this night on Arthur Dennis knew he would sleep very little, though he planned to trade his sleeping bag for one several sizes larger and retire completely into it. He decided to develop the habit of keeping his face partly covered by the canvas flap, and have his companions emulate him to make the action seem more natural. He was jubilant when the others came to the room.
"I have an icon tube, doc," he said from the depths of the sleeping bag. "That's what worried me most. I can build the second-order converter from the stuff I already had, and I can probably dig up enough from the other boys to make the tube connections. It's lucky they let us keep the hand lights. I don't know how I'd put this stuff together in the dark."
"How did you get the tube?" asked Little. "I didn't see you go downstairs all day, and I don't think many of the men knew about the guards' having let a good deal of apparatus by without trouble, so they wouldn't have done it for you."
Arthur grinned in the darkness. "Since I didn't have the Vegan technique we mentioned, I bet one of the Vegans fifty Union credits it couldn't be done—thus implying my doubt of his story of smuggling up a neutrino unit. He slipped it into his mess kit this evening after the meal, and I got it in the kitchen. He was a little touchy about my rudeness, but I apologized this evening and he's cooled off. I pay the bet if and when we reach a Union planet and can get some money." The technician ceased speaking, and the flap fell again across the opening of the bag.
Silence fell throughout the room, broken by the even breathing of two people and the occasional almost inaudible footfalls of the guard outside. Once or twice a shadow fell across the doorway as one of the creatures looked in, but it defeated its own purpose by blocking the light, and saw nothing. Dennis was careful, anyway, and allowed no motion to show through the padded canvas of the sleeping bag.
He was not interrupted that night, and worked for two or three hours before placing the partly completed unit in his kit and going to sleep.
The next morning it occurred to Little that the Vegans might have some idea of the probable length of stay of the ship. After the morning meal he squatted in front of the doorway of their quarters and questioned the creatures.
"They usually remain about ten days," was the answer. "But it is impossible to tell for sure. This is the first time prisoners have been brought since we came. We didn't notice how long they stayed on our arrival—we were too worried about other things."
"How long do they remain away, usually?"