Bill spread his sheet on the cot pointed out to him, and placed his pillow at the head of the bed. Then he kicked off his sneakers and lay down. Except for the sound of breathing and the buzzing of a bluebottle against a window screen, the place was absolutely quiet. It was hot, notwithstanding the ventilation, but the cot was comfortable, and try as he might, Bill could not fight off the drowsiness that assailed him.
He awoke with a guilty start to the loud clang of a ship’s bell and sat up on his cot. The hands of the clock on the wall opposite marked five o’clock. He had slept four hours.
“I reckon you had a good snooze by the look of them eyes o’ yourn,” remarked a jovial voice and Bill looked up to see Tom standing at the foot of the bed. “Make it snappy, now,” he continued. “Take yer gun an’ wait fer me on the front porch. I’ll be along in a minute and I’m puttin’ you on the detail that’s goin’ down to the harbor with them boys in the calaboose.”
Bill nodded and slipped into his sneakers. He jammed his hat on his head, and picking up his rifle, hurried from the room. He was angry with himself for having fallen asleep, and now that he had the chance, he meant to take it. Tom, when he came out, would not find him on the veranda. Bill made up his mind to beat the detail over to the jail and to follow out his original plan of rescuing his father and making their getaway before the men arrived.
He passed down the hall and on through the lounge room, and was running lightly down the piazza steps when a voice hailed him.
“Hey, youse! Where d’ you think yer headin’ for? Didn’t yer hear Tom tell yer to stick around with this detail until he came?”
Bill stopped and looked back. The man called Zeppi was leaning over the railing. Behind him ten or a dozen men were lounging in various indolent attitudes and laughing at this diversion. Bill saw that they all carried rifles.
“I guess youse ain’t been round dis dump long,” Zeppi was still speaking. “Let me tell yer, kid, t’ain’t healthy to disobey orders, ‘specially Tom’s. He’s a soft-speakin’ guy, Tom is—but I seen him shoot three guys in the last three weeks fer doin’ no more than you done just now. Get up on this porch before he shows up, if yer ain’t tired o’ livin’.”
Bill hid his disappointment and chagrin and ran up the steps.
“Thanks,” he said. “I’m half asleep, Zeppi. I didn’t think where I was going.”