Thus, for three days and nights I alternated eight hours in the jacket and eight hours out.

And then, just as I was growing accustomed to this rhythm, it was suddenly altered and I was given two days and nights straight.
And ever the eternal question was propounded to me: Where was the dynamite?
Sometimes Warden Atherton was furious with me.

On occasion, when I had endured an extra severe jacketing, he almost pleaded with me to confess.

Once he even promised me three months in the hospital of absolute rest and good food, and then the trusty job in the library.
Dr.Jackson, a weak stick of a creature with a smattering of medicine, grew sceptical.

He insisted that jacketing, no matter how prolonged, could never kill me; and his insistence was a challenge to the Warden to continue the attempt.
"These lean college guys 'd fool the devil," he grumbled.