"I will try. You will give your parole?"
"Yes," said Jim; for Jack was more to him than all the chances of escape.
"Then we will see. Now come!"
"Beg him to do everything he can for him. Couldn't we take him somewhere else?"
"He is better here, for the present. Later we will see. Now come!" And since he could do no more at the moment, Jim went with him.
"For to-night you will come to the guard-room. To-morrow you will go to Head-quarters and be properly paroled, Then we will see."
And Jim spent the rest of the night on three chairs in the guard-room, brooding gloomily most of the time on the disastrous results of "seeing the fun" of the Ovens, and full of fears as to the end of it all.
In the morning his keeper came for him, and Jim, for the first time, took the opportunity of looking at him. He had been too busy with other matters the night before.
He was a young fellow of about his own age, dark-haired, and of a thin sallow face, bright-eyed, pleasant-looking. Under other circumstances Jim thought they might have become friendly. He had certainly, treated him well.
"How is my brother?" asked Jim anxiously.