ntil seven o'clock
Monday morning--over twenty hours, is a fearful strain both physical and
mental upon the prisoners.

"Well, Jack," I say, "from what I have heard Superintendent Riley say, I
feel sure he would like to give the men some sort of exercise or
recreation on Sunday afternoons; but how could it be managed? You can't
ask the officers to give up their day off, and you don't think the men
could be trusted by themselves, do you?"

"Why not?" says Jack.

I look at him, inquiringly.

"Why, look here, Tom!" In his eagerness Jack comes around to my side of
our working table. "I know this place through and through. I know these
men; I've studied 'em for years. And I tell you that the big majority of
these fellows in here will be square with you if you give 'em a chance.
The trouble is, they don't treat us on the level. I could tell you all
sorts of frame-ups they give us. Now if you trust a man, he'll try and do
what's right; sure he will. That is, most men will. Of course, there are a
few that won't. There are some dirty curs--degenerates--that will make
trouble, but there ain't so very many of those.

"Look at that road work," he continues. "Haven't the men done fine? How
many prisoners have you had out on the roads? About one hundred and
thirty. And you ain't had a single runaway yet. And if there should be any
runaways you can just bet we'd show 'em what we think about it."[11]

"Do you really think, Jack, that the Superintendent and the Warden could
trust you fellows out in the yard on Sunday afternoons in summer?"

"Sure they could," responds Jack, his face beginning to flush with
pleasure at the thought. "And there could be a band concert, and we'd have
a fine time. And it would be a good sight better for us than being locked
in our cells all day. You'd have fewer fights on Monday, I know that."

"Yes, it would certainly be an improvement on spending the afternoon in
your cells," I remark. "Then in rainy weather you could march to the
chapel and have some sort of lecture or debate; or Mr. Kurtz and I would
come down occasionally and give you a violin and piano recital."

"Sure," says Jack; adding with a smile, "the boys would like that best of
all, you know." (It takes an Irishman to slide in a delicate compliment in
passing.)

"Well, that would all be first rate," is my interested comment; "but how
about the discipline? Would you let everybody out into the yard? What
about those bad actors who don'