Good Men and True; and, Hit the Line Hard/Good Men and True/Chapter 6

ND what are these famous instructions of yours, Mac?"

"They are verra precise, Mr. Bransford. One of us will be always in the room. That one will keep close and constant watch upon you, even when you are asleep. Your wound will be dressed only when we are both here. Coal and water, your meals, the things you send for, will be brought in only when we are both here. And on any slightest eendication of an attempted rescue or escape we are to kill you without hesitation!"

It was plain that Mac was following the manner as well as the matter of his instructions. He gave this information slowly, with dour satisfaction, checking each item by forcibly doubling down, with his fight hand, the fingers of his left. Having now doubled them all down, he undoubled them and began again.

"If you attempt to give any alarm, if you attempt to make any attack, if on any pretext you try to get near enough for a possible attack, we will kill you without hesitation." He rolled the phrase under his tongue with great relish.

"Your precautions are most flattering, I'm sure," said Jeff idly. "I must be very careful. The room is large, but I might inadvertently break your last rule at any time. If I understand you correctly, should I so much as drop my pencil and, picking it up, forgetfully come too close"

"I will shoot you," repeated this uncompromising person, "without any hesitation. I have a verra high opeenion of your powers, Mr. Bransford, and have no mind to come to grips wi' you. You will keep your distance, and we will agree fine."

"All this is like to be very tiresome to you." Jeff's tones were level and cheerful; he leaned back in his chair, yawning; his hands were clasped behind his head. "Such constant vigilance will be a strain upon you; your nerves will be affected. I will have by far the best of it. I can sleep, read, think. But if you turn your head, if you close your eyes, if you so much as falter in your attention," said Jeff dispassionately, "my fingers will be at your throat to tear your life out for the dog that you are!"

"Why, now we understand each other perfectly," returned Mac, in nowise discomposed. "But I would have ye to observe that your last remark was highly discourteous. My instructions are not yet ended. Look now!" He held up his hand, with three fingers still tightly closed to indicate three several unhesitancies. "Our last instruction was to treat you with ceeveelity and consideration, to give you any indulgence which would not endanger your safe keeping, to subject you to no indignity or abuse." He folded down the fourth finger and extended his closed hand, thrusting out his thumb reproachfully. "To no abuse!" he repeated.

"I am properly rebuked," said Jeff. "I withdraw the 'dog.' Let me amend the offending remark to read thus: to tear out your life without any hesitation. But even the remarkable foresight of Judge Thorpe seems to have overlooked one important thing. I refer to the possible corruption of my jailers. Do I likewise forfeit my life if I tamper with your integrity?"

His grim guardian chose to consider this query as extremely facetious. His leathern face wrinkled to cavernous gashes, indicative of mirth of a rather appalling sort; he emitted a low rumble that might be construed, in a liberal translation, as laughter; his words took on a more Scottish twist. "You might try it on Borrowman," he said. "Man, you've a taking way with you! 'Tis fair against my advice and sober judgment that ye are here at all—but I am begeening to feel your fasceenations! Now that ye're here I e'en have the hope that ye will be weel advisit. I own it, I would be but loath to feed so gay and so plain-dealing a man to the feeshes!"

These two had many such skirmishes as the days went by: slow, dragging days, perpetually lamp-lit, their passage measured only by the irregularly-changing guards and the regular bringing in of the daily papers.

Jeff timed his sleeping hours to come on Borrowman's trick; finding that jailer dull, ferocious and unendurable. His plan was long since perfected, and now he awaited but the opportunity of putting it into execution.

The Judge had called—as a medical adviser, he said—pronounced Jeff's progress all $hat could be desired, and touched upon their affair with argument, cajolery and airy badinage. Jeff had asked permission to write to his wife, to send some message, which the Judge might dictate; any sort of a story, he implored, to keep her from alarm and anxiety; which petition the Judge put merrily by, smiling at the absurdity of such request.

In his waking hours Jeff read the papers. Tillotson was mending, his trial would be soon. He read his books, sometimes aloud; he chaffed his jailer; he practised on the typewriter, but never, in his practice, wrote off any appeal for aid to good men and true, or even the faintest suggestion that a quick move by the enemy would jeopardize any possible number of gunboats. Instead, Jeff undertook to produce another "speed sentence." He called Mac to his assistance, explaining his wants; and between them, with great glee, they concocted the following gem:

He kept vexing me with frantic journeys hidden by quiet zeal. They showed this effusion to the Judge with much pride, defying him to better it. Jeff pounded it off by the hour; he mingled fragments of it with his remarks in season and out.

There were long visits from the Judge. In his own despite Jeff grew to enjoy them and to look forward to them—so strange a thing is man! The Judge was witty, cynical, informed, polished, keen, satirical. At times Jeff almost forgot what thing he was besides. Their talk ranged on many things, always in the end coming back to the same smiling query, the same unfaltering reply. Once, Patterson came with him—a younger man, with a brutal and bloated face—and urged the closing of the incident in clear and unmistakable terms.

And, as day followed day, Jeff let it appear—as a vital part of his plan—in his speech, his manner, his haggard looks, that danger, suspense and confinement were telling upon him, that he was worried and harassed, that he was losing his nerve. These things appeared slowly, lest he should seem to weaken too soon and too easily.