CHAPTER XIV.
When, at the conclusion of my first ten days' term in the jacket, I was brought back to consciousness by Doctor Jackson's thumb pressing open an eyelid, I opened both eyes and smiled up into the face of Warden Atherton.
"Too cussed to live and too mean to die," was his comment.
"The ten days are up, Warden," I whispered.
"Well, we're going to unlace you," he growled.
"It is not that," I said.

"You observed my smile.

You remember we had a little wager.

Don't bother to unlace me first.

Just give the Bull Durham and cigarette papers to Morrell and Oppenheimer.