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36    ABBOTT'S MONTHLY for MAY, 1931

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[[caption]] "The gang said it was only forty-one hundred dollars, and I believed them." said Steve.
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what is was all about, were talking when the assistant arrived at the corner of the little red building called the "Rag Shop."
"Hello, fellows," greeted the official, more friendly than ever.
"Hello," responded all, except one who was a real "rat" pretending to be a "good guy."
"The Dep wants you," advised the assistant, pointing at Steve with a smile which indicated friendship.

THIS being somewhat unusual and having his .45 concealed on his person, Steve had never experienced such a feeling as the one which came into his breast. He didn't know whether to say: "I'm not going," or "Let me step by my cell first." He really thought about the latter, but having just come from under the eye of suspicious, he reasoned in the negative. So he and the assistant marched side by side to the deputy's office, which was situated in the center of B-block and A, in front of the cage through which the on and off officers and visitors passed.

"What is this?" asked Red, one of the four in the plot to escape.

"Search me!" replied Don, moodily, another member.
"Whatever it is", spoke Vance, the last of the conspirators, "Steve will take care of it." He was the most sensible of the three.

Having entered the office, the assistant gestured for Steve to sit down, and the deputy greeted him like a perfect gentleman. The genial smile helped some, but Steve was not at ease. How could he have been, with so much confusing thought in his mind, and a .45 in his bosom?

"Steve," began the deputy, not sure of what effect his words would have on the young, self-conscious prisoner, who sat there with his arms crossed, shaking like a person with a chill, "we have had you under suspicious eye for seven years. You have been pretty roughly handled, but to be fair do you know that you have brought it all  on yourself?" There was a  penetrative straightness in the deputy's stare, which indicated seriousness.

FOR proof, he paused, with the palm of his right hand lightly raised before the young man's eyes, which evidently meant that he was not through, and that he did not want to be interrupted. He was giving that which he had said a chance to soak in. Then leaning forward with his eyes fixed steadily on the young prisoners, who slightly lowered his, he began anew: "We have no right to think more of anyone than he thinks of himself." He then looked off for a moment as though he did not know what to say next.

"In fact, we have no right to think more of anyone than he thinks of us," he finally added.

"I was just about to say the same thing, deputy," said the assistant.

The deputy continued "If a fellow hits you, you will hit him back. So it is with us. If a man bucks us, we'll buck him back. But, he smiled, "if he plays this part of a gentleman with us, we'll meet him over half way.

"We have a job," he added "that we are going to give you, Steve, because we believe you can do it and believe that you have discovered yourself. Make good on it, and we'll recommend you go out at the expiration of your minimum sentence, which is three more years."

CURIOUSLY enough, something came into Steve's mind which had never before entered - from these few words of the deputy. He had a feeling to take the pistol which he had on him and end it all right there. He had a notion to re-enter the yard and kill everyone who threw sneers at him for seven years. But he spoke, "Deputy, I cannot see, or it offers me difficulty to know -" Steve could not straighten our his thoughts. He was angry, and he wasn't angry. He was afraid, not of physical pain - but he was simply afraid. Little beads of sweat appeared upon his forehead and he was too ashamed to wipe them away. That made his feelings more intense. "That's all right, Steve," said the deputy in order to aid the lad, who was smart and yet a fool.

"Well, all right deputy, I'll do the best I can. I wanted to think that you were a good man all the time and did, despite how I was treated. Some of the fault was on me too," Steve replied as he was stepping out the door.

As he made a left turn to re-enter the yard the whistle sounded, and he had to go to his cell in D-block. He
(Continued on page 74)


for May, 1931    37

When Shall Dawn the Day?

By Ann B. Miller

I

The reluctant night slowly
Released its shadows to the coming
Of the persistent dawn.
And all the little sleepy things
Were roused from their dreamy slumber
To wait expectantly for
That red and gold light of life.

So rich was the dawn of that life
So gentle that breeze
Which brought with it
The wail of that new born black prince
Of Older Africa

II

There was another morning
The clouds sagged with
Their burden of tears,
Black brows sweat
In the sultry stench of grind and hate
Black hearts heaved high
With longing and yearning
Black breaths sighed deep with endurance
In Old America

III

But there came another dawn
And that dawn was red and golden
'Twas the dawn of golden home'
The clouds were there
But the were white and high.
Black backs were bent with burdens
But Black lips smiled, while the load was lighter.
And the day grew older
The clouds grew more scattered
In Modern America.

IV

There will come another dawn
Who knows how soon?
That dawn will be rich with beauty.
There will be no clouds in the east
The breeze that will bear
The wail of the black babe
Will be gentle and calm.

Black lips will part with laughter
There will be happiness
Blessed happiness and freedom
In the land of -
God! Can it be -
Future America?

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