The Concordia sentinel. (Vidalia, Concordia Parish, La.) 1882-current, 1921-06-04
Released
y
BY FRANK w. oURNEY
(Copyright.)

Prisoner No. S62 stood before the
desk Of the deputy warden. High
above his head was the arched roof
of the rotunda, from which the cells,
tier above tier, radiated like spokes
Of a wheel.
Motionless he stood, his shoulders
dropped, his pallid face expression
| less. His suit Of gray had been dis
carded for q blue serge of cheap ma
terial-a product of the prison shops
which had absorbed the indescribable
hut unmlstakable prison Odor. The
flannel shirt had been, replaced by a
coarse but warm sweater which came
well up around his thin neck.
A trusty passed directly behind the
deputy warden, and from his lowered
eyes shot a glance which No. S62 cor
rectly interpreted as one of cOngrat-
ulation and farewell. For No. S62 was
about to receive his discharge.
For twenty mOnotonous, tagging
years had this barren citadel OF stone
and steel been his abiding place. Day
in. day out, year In. year out 1t had
been the same routine, until II had be-
come part OF his very nature. His
record had not been bad, as the be-
havior of "long-termers" averaged;
nor had it been sufficiently good to
earn for him the liberal reduction of
sentence which the laws Of the COM
mOnwealth provided for model pris-
oners.
He had tried TO live up to the rules,
but something within him had led him
astray at intervals. What that some
thing was he could not understand,
much less explain. To the prison Off
Gals he had been a mystery. His first
lapses had been attributed to cunning.
yet there had never been any ugliness
in his actions or expression, but rather
listless disregard of regulations
which earned for him accomplishing
days in solitary confinement.
The last time this had occurred was
fourteen months before. The prison
ers in No. S62's corridor had been
lined up for the march to breakfast
When No. S62 deliberately left his
place and started for the door near
the head of the line. He was sharply
ordered back, but continued at a mod
crate, stumbling gait, as if obliviOus
Of his surroundings.
Two guards, trained by years of ex-
perience, grappled and threw him to
the floor. The other prisoners were
ordered back to their cells, and No.
S62 was led away to the dark room. O.
That night every prisoner and every
cell in the corridor were searched, but
nothing of a contraband nature was
found Latterly the guards had come
to accept No. So as eccentric-"bat-
ty." they termed it; and while he was
regularly disciplined for his subse-
Quent slight infraction of the rules he
was no longer considered vicious or
treacherous.
-
The ponderous deputy warden
clumsily welded the pen which was
closing the twenty years history of
human life.
At last the entry was completed and
blOtted, the book closed and showed
into place. The deputy warden ex-
tended his pudgy hand over the desk
In the nearest approach to cordially
which he could assume.
"Goodby. Williams" he said. take
care Of yourself and don't get back
here. You're old enough to go straight
the few years you've got left"
Williams hesitated, then slowly
placed his limp hand in that of the
deputy warden. He moistened his
lips. and his face worked spasmod-
ically, but no sound came from his
throat.
Slowly. like one under the influence
of an opiate, he turned his face toward
the door which separated him from the
freedom which had been denied for
nearly half his lifetime. Even then
he hesitated, as If expecting to be
called to account by some one in au-
thority.
There was no sound except the scuff,
scuff, scuff of trusty's felt soles as
he passed through the rotunda: The
prostitution at the deputy warden's
desk had summoned the dOorkeeper
from one of the long rows of offices
beyond the double steel doors, and
they had swung open, inviting Will
liams to the new world beyond.
AS he passed the portals his heart
seemed to rise and turn in his breast,
and he caught a quick, sharp breath.
1t was the Unborn fear. Of being called
back. punished, and again made TO
face that uncOmpromising grind. but
no hand stayed him. Vaguely he
heard the doorkeeper's gruff but kind
~ words of farewell. They were a
meaningless tumble of sound to his
dulled comprehension.
Down the stone steps, along the
short, tiled path, and he was on the
sidewalk. His pace did not quicken.
his head was not lifted. His eyes
were downcast, and there was the
same hunted, furtive look at passers-
by which had been given him a few
minutes before by the trusty in the
rotunda, except that the trusty's
glance had flashed a message as plain
ly read as If it had been craven on
copperplate, whereas his own eyes re-
fiected naught but the numbed blank
~