wards I found out that such scenes were extremely harmless; that they were played by way of a farce for the general entertainment and hardly ever ended in fights. It was all a fairly typical specimen of prison manners.
The tall convict stood calm and majestic. He felt that they were looking at him and waiting to see whether he would discredit himself by his answer or not; that he must keep up his reputation and show that he really was a bird and what sort of bird he was. He looked with inexpressible contempt at his opponent, trying to insult him to the utmost by looking down upon him as it were over his shoulder, as though he were examining him like an insect, and slowly and distinctly he brought out:
“Cocky-locky!”
Meaning that that was the bird he was. A loud roar of laughter greeted the convict’s readiness.
“You are a rascal not a cocky-locky!” roared the fat man, feeling he had been done at every point and flying into a violent rage.
But as soon as the quarrel became serious the combatants were at once pulled up.
“What are you shouting about!” the whole room roared at them.
“You’d better fight than split your throats!” some one called from a corner.
“Likely they’d fight!” sounded in reply. “We are a bold saucy lot; when we are seven against one we are not frightened.”
“They are both fine fellows! One was sent here for a pound of bread, and the other is a plate-licking jade; he guzzled a country woman’s junket, that’s what he got the knout for!”
“Come, come, come, shut up!” cried the veteran soldier who had to be in the room to keep order and so slept on a special bedstead in the corner.
“Water, lads! Old Petrovitch has waked up. Good morning, old veteran Petrovitch, dear brother!”
“Brother . . . brother indeed! I never drank a rouble with you and I am brother, am I!” grumbled the old soldier putting his arms into the sleeves of his overcoat.
They were making ready for inspection; it began to get light; a dense, closely packed crowd had gathered in the kitchen. The convicts in their sheepskins and particoloured caps were crowding round the bread which one of the cooks was cutting up for them. The cooks were chosen by the prisoners, two for each kitchen.
