In another neighboring cell was a young man named Charlie Steele. He was exceedingly popular in the community. His worst fault was love of liquor and he was in jail for some minor offense which he had committed on one of his sprees. The other prisoners shunned Logan on account of his disagreeable ways, but Steele good naturedly made quite a friend of him and they often played cards together.
In this jail the prisoners were allowed the freedom of the long corridor on which the cells opened. One afternoon Tom Bigelow and I sat just outside my cell trying to devise some way to regain our liberty. Down at the other end of the corridor, Charlie Steele and Murphy Logan were enjoying their usual game of cards.
Suddenly we were startled by a piercing scream. I jumped to my feet, and looked around to see poor Steele lying on the floor with the blood streaming from a long wound in his throat. Over him, glaring like the madman he was, stood Murphy Logan, brandishing in one hand a heavy piece of tin which he had fashioned into a crude sort of dagger.
Forgetful of my own danger, I rushed up and seized Logan's arm, just as he was about to plunge the weapon into Steele's body again. He turned on me, but I managed to keep him from wounding me until Tom and some of the other prisoners came to my assistance.
Steele lived only a few hours. The Sheriff placed the murderer in solitary confinement, and chained him to the floor of his cell. His ravings were something terrible to hear. He continually threatened vengeance on any of his fellow prisoners who would tell how he had slain his friend.
After listening to these threats all night long we were in terror of our lives, and when the inquest was held next day not a single prisoner would admit that he had seen the killing.
"Didn't you see this happen?" the Sheriff asked me.
"No," I lied, "I was in my cell at the time, and don't know anything about how Steele came to his end."
"You lie!" shouted Logan, when he heard this. "If you hadn't interfered I would have cut him up worse than I did. I will make you suffer for sticking your nose into my affairs."
The town was in a fever of excitement, and from the windows of our cells we could see excited groups discussing the murder on every corner. Feeling ran particularly high, because the dead man had been so popular in the community while nobody liked Murphy Logan.