He was not more than five foot three in height, but in breadth he was twice
the size of a normal man. His brutal face was a mass of scars from past
ferocious fights. His smashed nose spread across his face and his tiny,
gleaming eyes peered out from under bushy eyebrows. He looked like an
orangutan, and acted like one.
He slept in a bunk below mine. If I could persuade him to come with me, I
was sure no one in the bunkhouse would dare raise the alarm while I worked
on the door.
But could I trust him not to give me away?
I knew nothing about him. He never spoke to anyone. He kept to himself, but
if anyone came too close to him, his enormous fist would crash into their
faces, stunning them.
It would be easy enough to tell him my plan without anyone else overhearing
me. All I had to do was to pull aside the filthy blanket covering the wire grill
on which I lay, and I would be looking right down on him.
I spent half the night listening to his violent snoring, and wondering about
him. He was hated not only by the prisoners but also by the guards. I couldn’t
imagine him giving me away, and finally around two o’clock in the morning
I decided to take a chance and include him in my escape plan.
I undid my ankle chain and pulled aside the blanket.
I couldn’t see him down there in the darkness, but I could smell him and I
could hear his heavy, snorting breathing.
“Boyd!”
My voice was low-pitched and tense.
His heavy breathing abruptly stopped. He had come awake the way an animal
comes awake, and I imagined him staring up into the darkness, his little ape’s
eyes flickering and suspicious.
“Boyd! Are you listening?”
“Huh?”
The grunt was soft but alert.
“I’m crashing out in a couple of hours,” I said, keeping my voice to a
whisper. “Are you coming with me?”
“Crashing out?”
“When Byefleet is feeding the dogs, I’m getting out. Are you coming with
me?”
“You’re nuts! How the hell can you get out?”
“I’ve got the ankle chain off already and I can get yours off. I can open the
door. Are you coming with me?”
“How about the dogs?”
“I told you: when Byefleet is feeding them, we’ll go.”
“Go—where?”
“To the river. With any luck we’ll get to the railway. It’s worth a try. If you
don’t want to come, say so.”
“You can get this goddamn chain off?”
“Yes.”
“Then get it off!”
I slid off the bunk and down on the floor beside him. I felt along his massive
leg until my groping hands reached the ankle chain. Working in the dark
made my task tricky, but after a few minutes I turned the lock and the anklet
dropped onto the blanket.
As I straightened, two hot, sweating hands groped for me out of the darkness,
slid up my shirt front and before I could get out of his reach, his fingers
fastened around my throat.
He had a grip like a vice. He nipped my breath off. I didn’t attempt to
struggle. I remained on my knees beside him, praying he wasn’t going to
murder me.
Suddenly he let go and his hand caught my shirt front, pulling me against
him.
“Listen, punk,” he snarled, “if you’re figgering to get me in a jam . . .”
For a moment I struggled to get my breath back into my lungs, then I
managed to hiss at him: “Go to hell, you ape! If you don’t want to come, say
so!”
Someone close to us moaned in his sleep. Someone cursed softly. We were
whispering together. I could smell his rotten breath. This seemed to be the
way to talk to him. His hand slid off my shirt.
“Yeah, I’ll come.”
“As soon as we get out, we run for the river,” I said. “When we reach the
river we split up. They’ll send the dogs after us. If we can reach the river we
can fool the dogs. Can you swim?”
“Never mind what I can do,” he snarled. “You open that door. I’ll take care
of myself.”
I climbed back onto my bunk and lay there, fingering my throat. The first
faint light of dawn was beginning to show at the window. In an hour it would
be time to make a start.
I got out the sack of pepper and put it inside my shirt I wasn’t going to share
the pepper with Boyd. I might need every grain of it before I got clear of the
dogs.
I lay there waiting, watching the light become stronger and listening to
Boyd’s heavy breathing.
I heard him whisper suddenly, “You sure you can open the door?”
I rolled over so I could speak to him.
“I’m sure.”
“What makes you think we’ll get away with this?”
“Anything’s better than staying here.”
“Yeah.”
There was a long silence. Then we heard two of the dogs snarling at each
other. The sound chilled my blood.
“Those dogs …” Boyd muttered.
“Once they start eating they won’t bother us,” I said.
“That’s what you hope,” Boyd said, and I caught the fear in his voice.
Even a brutal ape like Boyd was scared of those dogs.
Forty long tense minutes crawled by. A thin dagger of sunlight began to
move across the floor of the bunkhouse, telling me I had now only a few
more minutes before the crash out.
My heart was thumping and my hands sweating. I could hear the dogs
snarling outside. A number of the prisoners began to stir, jerking each other
awake with the communal chain and beginning to curse each other.
I could see Boyd’s face now as I looked down at him.
“You’re going ahead with this?” he said. “You’re not kidding?”
“I’m not kidding,” I said.
The snarling of the dogs suddenly turned to excited barks. That told me
Byefleet was making his way from the hut to the kitchen.
“Watch it one of these guys don’t start yelling while I’m working on the
door,” I said to Boyd.
“I’ll watch it,” Boyd said, and sitting up, he swung his massive legs to the
floor.
I slid off the bunk and crossed to the door.
One of the trusties, a rat-faced, bald-headed little man, jerked upright on his
bunk.
“Hey, you! Whatja tink ya doin’?” he bawled.
Boyd came to his feet. He waddled over to the trustie and slammed his fist in
his face. The trustie dropped back, blood pouring from his crushed nose.
Boyd stood in the middle of the bunkhouse, his hands on his enormous hips
and glared around.
“Anyone else want to start something?” he snarled.
No one moved. By now they were all sitting up staring goggled-eyed at me.
The lock proved easier than I expected. I got the door open as I heard
Byefleet’s bellowing voice cursing the dogs.
“Let’s go!” I said, aware my voice had shot up a note and feeling cold sweat
running down my spine.
I moved cautiously out into the cool morning air.
To my right, not more than fifty yards from me, was the dog pen. I saw
Byefleet, his back turned to me, pouring a bucket of meat and mash into a
trough. The dogs were snarling and snapping at each other as they pressed
forward to get at the food.
Boyd joined me. He, too, looked across at the dog pea.
“Come on!” I said and started to run.
I felt n@ked and scared as I started across that flat stretch of ground with the
river so far in the distance.
I could hear Boyd thudding after me. I could also hear him panting. He
wasn’t in my class as a runner, and I quickly shot ahead.
I’ve never run so fast in my life. I flung myself over the ground, seeing the
long line of reeds that guarded the river coming more sharply into focus.
Then I heard the bang of a gun.
I slowed a little and looked back over my shoulder.
Byefleet was out of the dog pen, crouching, holding a .45. He fired again, and
I saw a spurt of dust five feet or so to the left of Boyd, who was running
doggedly but not making much speed. It was pretty rotten shooting.
I could hear the snarling and snapping of the dogs. They were too busy to
come after us and that gave me heart. I quickened my pace again, and when I
was within a hundred yards of the reeds I again looked back.
Boyd was nearly two hundred yards behind me, but he kept coming.
The steam whistle was now blasting, and I knew within a very few minutes
the guards would be after us.
I crashed through the reeds, belted along the bank of the river. After I had
gone a hundred yards I threw myself down behind a thick shrub.
Some seconds later I heard Boyd blunder into the reeds. He wasn’t more than
twenty yards from me, but the reeds were too thick for him to see me.
“Hey! D@mn you! Where are you?” he panted, pausing to look left and right
I kept still. I didn’t want him with me. I wanted to split the hunt.
He waded into the river, paused to look back, then began to swim strongly
towards the opposite bank.
I took out the sack of pepper and filled the turn-ups of my trousers with the
stuff. Then I began to move fast and silently along a path between the high
bank and the reeds. And when I was sure Boyd, as he swam, couldn’t hear
me, I began to run again.
I had gone some distance along the bank when I heard the horses. Now was
the time to hide, and I looked around for a likely place. I found it in a thicket
a few yards from the bank. I crawled under cover and lay flat, sweat
streaming off me and my heart pounding.
The sound the horses made as they crashed about among the| reeds was
alarmingly close
There was a sudden shout and then the sound of the splashing of water. I
guessed one of the guards was swimming his horse across the river.
Then I heard a voice bawl, “I can see him!” There was the sound of a rifle
shot.
Another horse splashed into the river. There was more shooting.
I edged forward, pushing aside the undergrowth so I could see. A guard,
swimming his horse across the river, holding an automatic rifle in his hand,
came into sight.
As he urged his horse up the opposite bank, there was more shooting, closer.
Then I saw Boyd suddenly break cover and dive into the river. He began to
swim frantically towards where I was hiding. I watched him come.
The guard who had just got out of the river slid off his horse and kneeling on the bank, he lifted his rifle.
Boyd must have sensed his danger. He dived as the guard fired. The bullet
kicked up a spurt of water where Boyd’s head had been.
The other guard, crashing his horse through the undergrowth, appeared on the
bank.
“He’s swimming back!” the first guard shouted. “Get after him! I’ll watch
him from here!”
The mounted guard urged his horse once more into the river. As the horse
began to swim, Boyd’s head bobbed up for a brief moment. He was nearly
halfway across the river by now, but the mounted guard had seen him. He
swung his horse towards the swimming man just as Boyd dived again. I could
see it was going to be an unequal race.
Boyd couldn’t reach shelter before the guard caught up with him. He must
have realised this himself. He certainly was an expert underwater swimmer.
He must have turned underwater and swum towards the guard, for his head
bobbed up just behind the swimming horse. The guard didn’t see him, but the
other guard did and he yelled a warning. Boyd was too close to the mounted
guard for the other to risk a shot.
The mounted guard twisted around in his saddle, his face alarmed. He aimed
a blow at Boyd’s head with the butt of his rifle, but missed him.
With the quickness of a striking snake, Boyd grabbed the guard’s wrist and
.heaved him off his horse into the water.
The guard was helpless in the grip of those brutal hands. The two men
disappeared from sight. There was a violent churning of water, and then
Boyd bobbed up alone.
He came up with the horse between him and the guard on the bank, and he
kept that way. Holding the horse’s bridle, he urged the animal downstream.
The other guard hesitated, then seeing what was happening, and that Boyd
now had a chance of escaping, he ran back to his horse, mounted it and
forced the animal into the river. He went after Boyd, who was having trouble
controlling the swimming horse. He passed close to where I was hiding. His
ape-like face was set and white, and I could hear him cursing the horse,
trying to urge it forward faster.
The other guard was rapidly overtaking him, but he still couldn’t get a shot at
him.
I saw Boyd suddenly let go of his horse and dive. I guessed he was going to
try to surprise the guard as he had the other, but this time he overplayed his
hand.
The guard was alert, and Boyd slightly misjudged his distance. He bobbed up
right by the guard. As he frantically shook the water out of his eyes, his hands
grabbing at the guard, the guard smashed his rifle butt down on Boyd’s head.
Boyd went down like a stone, and where he had sunk the river water turned
red.
The guard was taking no chances. He swung his horse around and made for
the bank, coming out of the river not far from where I lay.
I recognised him now. His name was Geary. He was a brute and a sadist, and
had made my days at Farnworth a hell. If I had had a gun I wouldn’t have
hesitated to shoot him, but I had no gun so I lay watching him while he sat on
his horse, waiting for Boyd’s body to come to the surface.
It came up eventually, floating face down and drifted to the bank where I
rested among the reeds.
The other horse struggled up onto the bank. Geary moved up to it and took its
bridle.
Geary then looked over the surface of the river. He was looking for the other
guard’s body. I spotted the body on the far side of the bank just a few seconds before he did.
He grunted, then leading the other horse, he went crashing off through the
reeds and back to Farnworth,
I waited until the sounds died away, then cautiously I came out of hiding.
They would recover the two bodies, then Byefleet and some of the mounted
guards would come after me with the dogs. In the meantime every State
trooper would be alerted. The police of the district would be on the lookout
for me. A warning would be broadcast.
I had still a long way to go before I was safe—if I ever was going to be safe.
Carrying the sack of pepper, I started off again. The morning sun was up by
now, and already there was heat.
As I ran, the pepper kept jerking out of my trousers turn-ups, blotting out my
scent.
After about a couple of miles, I pulled up, panting. Now was the time to cross
the river. The railway lay on the far side about sixteen miles from where I
was.
I took off my trousers and folded them into a small pack in which I put the
sack of pepper. I tied the pack on top of my head with my belt, then I walked
into the river and swam over to the opposite bank.
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