“Why don’t you go out and see George and his outfit? There’s an empty bunk in their cell.”

We hunted up “George and his outfit.” They knew all about me apparently, for George said, “Sure, put him in with us. If you don’t they’ll only stick some gay cat in there and we’d have to throw him out in the middle of the night.”

“What have they got on you, kid?” asked George.

I sat down with them all and went over the whole thing from the shooting of Smiler to my arrival at the prison.

“And you’ve made no statement yet?”

“No.”

“Not even to the shyster?” George inquired.

“Not even to the shyster,” I replied.

George turned to the others. “He’ll beat that case.”

“Sure, he will,” they all said.

“Judge Powers can beat that case before lunch any day,” said Shorty.

“How’s he going to get the judge to defend him? He hasn’t a dime, and you’re talking about the best lawyer in the state,” George wanted to know.

It was Shorty’s time to get superior now. “Where did I get that two hundred dollars that’s out in the office? Didn’t him and Smiler bring it up here to me for my end of that chippy gambling house’s bankroll. The judge will take this case for a hundred; it’s only an hour’s work for him.”

George smiled. “Shorty, I knew damned well you’d do that,” and to me, “Kid, that’s what comes of bein’ on the square. If you’d burnt Shorty for his end of that coin, you’d have been here just the same, and you’d have got a beatin’ instead of a lawyer and a lot of good advice from real people.”