on pouring-off days a menacing monster which at sudden intervals vomited red-hot metal. In the centre of the room, up among the dust-covered rafters, was a suspended steel-barred cage; and in it a guard stood, fingering his rifle. At the other end of the room, in the midst of a fiery spark shower, his black face catching weird high lights from the glowing rain about him, Jimmy Carroll, the little cell-mate, sat on a high stool at the emery wheel. Often 9009 glanced over there, especially toward night, when the little man swayed sickly on his perch.
Four days a week 9009 tamped black sand about the mould-patterns. He worked, pounding, pounding, pounding, with loose shoulders, the cold smell of earth, charcoal, and fresh iron dust in his nostrils; sombre-lined faces and striped forms flitted about him; at times his eyes, unconsciously rising, gave him a glimpse of the cage overhead, with the guard vague within, or of his cell-mate, swaying on his high stool in a Sodom-like rain. Two days a week he stood in line with the other moulders, holding his
