They avalanched past 9009 with pounding feet, as he stood, rooted, on the threshold of the door between the two corridors; and glancing over his shoulder he saw them pop into their cells like rabbits into their holes. But three of the convicts, besides Miller, the pickpocket, the burglar, and the confidence-man had stayed; and now these three, like wild beasts, were hurling themselves against the bars of the outer gate. Miller sprang upon the guard, lying on the concrete floor, still entwined by the pickpocket. He raised his heavy revolver and he struck the gray head once, twice, thrice—and stupidly 9009 noted that the blows thudded not as the revolver fell, but as it rose. A red patch, as if oozing out of the pores, masked the guard’s face slowly. The pickpocket, twitching as a fox-terrier above a squirrel hole, was fumbling madly about the limp blue heap. Suddenly his hand rose, triumphant, holding a great steel key. He leaped to his feet and, bent low, slid like a streak of fire to the outer door. Miller followed him. The burglar remained over the two pros-
