Tim heard Senn’s footsteps passing close. His boots scraped the earth by the jailhouse. The door creaked open, then clanged shut.
Devil went about his work. He clanked the pots and dropped firewood and sang Navy ditties, as he always did.
Bell was watching at the door, and after what seemed an eternity he turned back into the room. “Nothing to worry about in the yard. The guards are as usual. It’s getting dark.”
Tim wondered what was happening in the jail.
When Devil and Bell had finished their work they hailed a guard to take them to the Navy mess. The guard came into the shack and offered to help.
“Well, sure you can help,” said Devil hastily. “Here, Bell, grab one handle of the tub of mush and let the guard help on the other side.”
Tim heard a scraping of feet as the men left the kitchen and he heard Devil whisper, “You boys hold tight!”
Tim and Red sat quiet. They had no way of knowing whether a guard was near. Tim could hear someone working in the Army kitchen. He couldn’t remember who was cooking tonight.
Devil and Bell came back to the kitchen, Devil talking all the way so that the hidden men would know who they were.
Tim began to feel cramped. His legs ached and he wished he could shift his position a little, but he was afraid he might bring down the pile of wood.