The billiard table was contrived from the wooden sides to my bed.  I secured them side by side to give a flat surface 6 feet long by 5 feet wide.  Over the upper surface I stretched and tacked down a sheet to form the cloth.  I bought a broomstick and with the assistance of the camp carpenter shaved it down to form a passable cue, tipping the end with a small piece of leather cut from my boot.  The table was rigged up in the open air, boxes and barrels serving as the legs, while it was levelled as far as practicable.  There was only one ball.  At the opposite end—­on the spot—­I placed two match-boxes set at an angle to one another and just sufficiently far apart to prevent the ball passing between them.  The unusual game was to play the ball at the boxes in such a manner as to knock both of them over together.  It seems a simple thing to do, but I would merely advise the reader to try it.  Probably he will learn something to his advantage.

I assumed fancy dress.  I secured a big top hat, a pair of trousers much too baggy and big for me, a swallow-tail coat with tails formed of white and red strips—­a regular Uncle Sam’s costume—­had a big flaming bow about twelve inches in width and a ridiculous monocle.  I think my rig-out transformed me into a hybrid of Brother Jonathan, Charlie Chaplin and an English dude.  My dress was completed by a biscuit tin suspended by a band from my shoulder and in which I rattled my money.  On the face of the tin I wrote—­

    Come along!  Come along!!  Come along!!! 
    Always open to make.  Always open to lose. 
      Come along B’hoys!

I then stood on a box and told the tale characteristic of a man at the fair for the first time in my life.

Seeing that I was the only man attired in fancy dress I became the centre of attraction as I desired and as much among the guards who mixed and joked with us freely on this Great Day, as among my fellow-prisoners.  It also served as a striking advertisement for my game of unconventional billiards, which was my intention.  My terms were ten pfennigs—­one penny—­a shot and round my table the fun grew fast and furious.  It seemed so absurdly easy to knock the two boxes down at once, but when the billiard experts settled down to the game they found that only about one shot in fifty proved successful.  Indeed the ability to knock the two boxes over simultaneously was found to be so difficult as to be exasperatingly fascinating, and as a result of their repeated and abortive efforts I made money quickly.  The table was kept going hard the whole day, by the end of which I found I had raked in several pounds in nimble pennies.