You see, this was the working-theory of the hall-men.  There were thirteen of us.  We had something like half a thousand prisoners in our hall.  We were supposed to do the work, and to keep order.  The latter was the function of the guards, which they turned over to us.  It was up to us to keep order; if we didn’t, we’d be fired back to hard labor, most probably with a taste of the dungeon thrown in.  But so long as we maintained order, that long could we work our own particular grafts.

Bear with me a moment and look at the problem.  Here were thirteen beasts of us over half a thousand other beasts.  It was a living hell, that prison, and it was up to us thirteen there to rule.  It was impossible, considering the nature of the beasts, for us to rule by kindness.  We ruled by fear.  Of course, behind us, backing us up, were the guards.  In extremity we called upon them for help; but it would bother them if we called upon them too often, in which event we could depend upon it that they would get more efficient trusties to take our places.  But we did not call upon them often, except in a quiet sort of way, when we wanted a cell unlocked in order to get at a refractory prisoner inside.  In such cases all the guard did was to unlock the door and walk away so as not to be a witness of what happened when half a dozen hall-men went inside and did a bit of man-handling.

As regards the details of this man-handling I shall say nothing.  And after all, man-handling was merely one of the very minor unprintable horrors of the Erie County Pen.  I say “unprintable”; and in justice I must also say “unthinkable.”  They were unthinkable to me until I saw them, and I was no spring chicken in the ways of the world and the awful abysses of human degradation.  It would take a deep plummet to reach bottom in the Erie County Pen, and I do but skim lightly and facetiously the surface of things as I there saw them.

At times, say in the morning when the prisoners came down to wash, the thirteen of us would be practically alone in the midst of them, and every last one of them had it in for us.  Thirteen against five hundred, and we ruled by fear.  We could not permit the slightest infraction of rules, the slightest insolence.  If we did, we were lost.  Our own rule was to hit a man as soon as he opened his mouth—­hit him hard, hit him with anything.  A broom-handle, end-on, in the face, had a very sobering effect.  But that was not all.  Such a man must be made an example of; so the next rule was to wade right in and follow him up.  Of course, one was sure that every hall-man in sight would come on the run to join in the chastisement; for this also was a rule.  Whenever any hall-man was in trouble with a prisoner, the duty of any other hall-man who happened to be around was to lend a fist.  Never mind the merits of the case—­wade in and hit, and hit with anything; in short, lay the man out.