“What’s the matter?” says Jack, looking up from his work.
“Nothing,” I reply, “it’s only my nephew, confound him, and some other rubbernecks. For Heaven’s sake, Jack, work away as usual and don’t attract any attention if we can help it.”
My eyeglasses are in my pocket; and fearing that my ring may catch the light I hastily drop it also into another pocket. Then I put on my cap and continue my work as naturally as possible, without looking up.
Certainly, so far as appearances go, the prison system is a success in my case. In arithmetic, as I recall it, we used to seek for the greatest common denominator and the least common multiple; but in prison the apparent object is to find the least common denominator—the lowest common plane upon which you can treat everyone alike, college graduate and Bowery tough, sick and well, imbecility and intelligence, vice and virtue.
In appearance, as I started to say, I am apparently all that could be desired. Just as happened yesterday, the Warden leads this party through the shop; they are all looking specially for me; they have been spurred on by the failure of the newspaper men yesterday and are one and all determined to find me. Yet they one and all pass within twenty feet, look straight in my direction—and go on their way without recognizing me. I must have the marks of “the Criminal” unusually developed, or else criminals must look a good deal like other folks—barring the uniform. If I had the ordinary theories about prisons and prisoners it might seem rather mortifying that, in spite of every effort, not one of these intimate friends can spot me among the toughest bunch of fellows in the prison.
Certainly something must be wrong somewhere.
This appears to be an afternoon of excitements. Down comes the P. K. again, for what purpose I do not know. The afternoon is cloudy and it is getting somewhat dark and gloomy in the shop. After the P. K. has spoken to the Captain he comes over and tells us fellows that we can quit work if we want to, as it is too dark to see well. He points to the north windows, where a car of lumber on the track outside interferes somewhat with the light in that part of the shop. After he is gone we continue working, as we can see perfectly well; and Jack is still more scornful than he was this morning. He expresses the opinion that this proceeding is even more raw than the former one. “I should like to know how long it is since they was so careful of our eyes, so awful anxious about our health!” is his sarcastic comment.
My answering comment is this, “I dare say, Jack, it’s all right; but, so far as I am concerned, they can’t come it over me that way.”
“Well, I guess not!” is Jack’s hearty response.
After we have washed up and just before we separate for the night my partner comes up to me in his engaging way. “Say, would you mind if I called you by your first name?”