After a minute, he said, "All right. I'll take you around. But I can't
spare much time. It'll have to be a quick tour."
The offices were on the first floor. Storage rooms, an arms room and a
target range were in the basement. Most of the cells were on the second
floor, with the very rough cases celled on the third.
"If the judge says maximum security, they go on the third, everybody
else on the second unless we have an overflow. Have a boy upstairs now."
My heart sank.
"A real bad actor. Killed a man."
Well, that wasn't Jimmy. Not with a three-month sentence.
Maximum security had three sets of barred doors plus an armed guard.
Sgt. Robards pointed it all out to me. "By this time next week, it
will all be full in here," he said sadly. "The Governor has ordered a
round-up of all political agitators. The Anti-Redemptionists be getting
out of hand and he be going to cool them off. Uh, don't put that in
your paper."
"Oh, I won't," I said, crossing off on my notes.
The ordinary cells on the second floor were behind no barred doors and
I got a guided tour. I stared Jimmy D. right in the face, but he had
the brains to keep his mouth shut.
When we had finished, I thanked Sgt. Robards enthusiastically. "It sure
has been swell, sir."
"Not at all, son," he said. "I enjoyed it myself. If you have time some
evening, drop by when I have the duty. My schedule bees on the bulletin
board."
"Thank you, sir," I said. "Maybe I will."
V
Before I scouted the jail I had only vague notions of what I was going
to do to spring Jimmy D. I had spent an hour or so, for instance,
toying with the idea of forcing the Territorial Governor to release
Jimmy at the point of a gun. I spent that much time with it because the
idea was fun to think about, but I dropped it because it was stupid.
I finally decided on a very simple course of action, one that could
easily go wrong. It was my choice because it was the only thing I could
pull off by myself that had a chance of working.
Before I left the jail building, I copied down Sgt. Robards' duty
schedule from the bulletin board. Then I went home.
I spent the next few days shoplifting. Mr. Kutsov was laying in
supplies, too, loading his wagon for his regular trip. I helped him
load up, saving my shopping for my spare time. Mr. Kutsov wanted me to
go along with him, but I couldn't, of course, and I couldn't tell him
why. He didn't want to argue and he couldn't _make_ me do anything I
didn't want to do, so I had an unfair advantage. I just dug in my heels.
Finally he agreed it was all right for me to stay alone in the house
while he was gone. It was what I wanted, but I didn't enjoy the process
of getting my own way as much as I did at home. There it is a more
even battle.
The day he picked to leave was perfect for my purposes. Mr. Kutsov
said, "I'll be back in six days. Be you sure that you will be all
right?"