"Got anything in that pack of yours that'll help pass time?"
"How about some music?"
"Anything!"
Jeff took from his pocket a small mouth organ with which he often beguiled the hours. He was happy again, and his smile glowed once more. He'd been thinking too hard. If he relaxed with the mouth organ for a little while, and cleared his mind, he would get some new ideas. By way of tuning up, he blew a soft note and the cell erupted.
Pal, who had been lying quietly on the mattress, leaped to his feet, pointed his head erect, and voiced a weird howl. It was not the cry of a dog but a banshee shriek, a wailing of lost souls and tortured beings, and it filled the room like a solid substance. Descending on a low moan, it stopped. Pal lifted his lips and snarled fiercely.
The two in the next cell gave way to hysterical laughter and Pop bustled from his desk.
"You'll have to keep that dog—"
He took a backward step as Pal snarled again. The mouth organ hidden in his hand, Jeff stood innocently. Pop stared.
"Why does he do that?"
"I don't know."