Kenneth Robeson - The Avenger 04 by The Devil's Horns

Author:The Devil's Horns
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2012-02-20T14:56:54+00:00

Chapter X

Behind Prison Walls!

Ashton City’s local jail dipped back into the past history of penology about fifty years. There was a half acre or more on the edge of town, surrounded by a high stone wall. There was a two-story building with cells above and offices and mess hall below.

The prisoners, small offenders, or men, like Smitty, waiting for trial, had just finished lunch. They were out in the snow-covered prison yard for their regular exercise. That consisted of walking around with vicious short steps and cursing fate, the law, and everything else the prisoners could find to curse for their incarceration. Everything except themselves.

The giant, Smitty, was pacing alone near the wall. On top of the wall, two men with guns negligently paced while the men were out of their cells.

Three prisoners came slowly up to Smitty. One was a big, hulking man with the scarred features of a prize fighter. Another was as lean and agile as a snake, with a snake’s flat head and dull, baleful eyes. The third was an apish-looking man with an empty grin on his face.

The three, Smitty had noticed before, were the rulers of the rest of the cell inmates. They were the bullies of the place, and what they said went.

The biggest man, with the twisted nose and cauliflower ears, stopped truculently in front of Smitty.

“What’s your name, punk?” he rasped.

“Smith,” said Smitty, looking thick-witted and slow and good-natured. The big fighter stared at the giant’s bland blue eyes and amiable moonface.

Easy pickings, he obviously thought.

“Well, Smith,” the prize fighter growled, “we been talking about y’u, and we’ve decided we don’t like the shape of your mouth. So we’re gonna change it?unless y’u wanta pay the fine.”

“Fine?” said Smitty, looking perplexed.

“Yeah! We got kind of a court. See? I’m the judge and my two pals, here, are the jury. Now, we’ve judged y’u, and we’ve fined y’u ten bucks.”

“Ten dollars?”

“Y’u heard me. Come on, shell out, or we’ll go to work on that mouth of yours that we don’t like.”

Smitty looked bewildered, but wasn’t. Not at all. He knew just what he was up against; a variant of the cruel kangaroo court, in which prisoners judge other prisoners and fine them whatever amount they think they can wring from them.

“Come on, come on,” snapped the fighter. “Shell out!”

“I ain’t got any money,” said Smitty. “They stripped me, in the office.”

“Y’u can get it, can’t y’u?”

“Well?”

“Ah, cut out the soap,” drawled the snaky-looking man wearily. “Give him a sample. The guys on the wall are looking the other way.”

“Okey doke,” said the fighter cheerfully.

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