And so once more Hal sat on the hard bench, and munched his hunk of bread, and thought jail-thoughts. When the quitting-whistle blew, he stood at the window, and saw the groups of his friends once again, and got their covert signals of encouragement. Then darkness fell, and another long vigil began. It was late; Hal had no means of telling how late, save that all the lights in the camps were out.
"Throw it!" whispered a voice; and Hal threw it. He saw a form vanish up the street, after which all was quiet again. He listened for a while, to see if he had roused his jailer; then he lay down on the bench and thought more jail-thoughts! Morning came, and the mine-whistle blew, and Hal stood at the window again.