Some time after he made another attempt, a more serious one, but just as stupid from the point of view of the prison officers. Slipping out of the line as it left the foundry (it was the dusk of a winter’s day) he crawled to the cook-house and slipped into the narrow space between that and the laundry, near the niche where he used to hide his knife at times of danger from search. By the mouth of this narrow gut, Jennings had to pass four times a day on his way to the jute-mill and back.
But Jennings did not appear. He was out at the head of a posse which, deceived, pursued an unwitting tramp over the hills. For three days 9009 crouched foodless and shelterless in his retreat while man-hunters roamed the hills for him on the outside; then Wilson, heading a search within the walls, found him. For his pains he was throttled almost to death before the guards could part 9009’s iron fingers.
For this 9009 was formally tried in the court of the district under the charge of assault to commit murder. The trial was short. 9009 did
