We were detailed in pairs to sweep the sidewalks clean all around the block the prison stood on. My space was from the prison door down to Montgomery Street. An old man had the sidewalk across the street from me. Two or three assistant trusties nosed around like bird dogs to see that we swept clean and didn’t run away with the brooms. When my task was done I helped the old man finish his, and he carried my broom back to the prison. The trusty dismissed me with a wave of his arm and I went up Montgomery Street in search of a restaurant where I could get some coffee with a dime I had saved from the rapacious and cunning hypos in the prison. I decided to keep away from the wine dumps in future, and out of the hands of the police vag detail that rounded up the riffraff when they got too numerous and pesty.

In a few days Sanc was back, quite satisfied with his trip to Salt Chunk Mary’s. The money was split and put in our box in separate parcels. We had more than $1,000 each now, but he had no notion of taking a rest or vacation. He wanted to know right away what I had done in his absence. I reported everything, including my night in jail. He asked me what I told the police at the station. I told him. “Not bad,” he said, “but be careful.”