“How’s the heart?”
“Splendid.”
“You think he’ll stand ten days of it, Doc.?”
“Sure.”
“I don’t believe it,” the Warden announced savagely. “But we’ll try it just the same.—Lie down, Standing.”
I obeyed, stretching myself face-downward on the flat-spread jacket. The Warden seemed to debate with himself for a moment.
“Roll over,” he commanded.
I made several efforts, but was too weak to succeed, and could only sprawl and squirm in my helplessness.
“Putting it on,” was Jackson’s comment.
“Well, he won’t have to put it on when I’m done with him,” said the Warden. “Lend him a hand. I can’t waste any more time on him.”