One night, when the women were coming into the prison, I observed great
commotion and disturbance among them. I heard a confused, mixed up, talk
about beds being taken out.
Two or three of the women stepped out of the ranks, and looked up into
their rooms, to see if their beds were taken out of them. Among the
number was a woman by the name of Callahan.
I had heard of her as being a desperate character; but she had behaved
well in the prison.
She was a tall, stout woman, with a loud voice. After she had looked
into her room, and seen that her bed was gone, she turned to me, and
asked,--
"What was my bed taken out for?"
"I didn't know that it was out."
She looked steadily at me for a moment; then, lowered her voice, and
asked,--
"Do you mean to say that you didn't know that my bed was out?"
"Yes, Callahan, I meant to say that I did not know your bed was taken
out. Perhaps you are mistaken, it may not be out."
"O, yes, it is out; I saw the naked bars."
"Come, Callahan, go along like a good woman! Go to your room first, and
see, before you ask why it is done."