Consequently, in three or four days, my hands were terribly
blistered, and as the Warden happened to come into the shop, I
showed them to him, and quietly told him that I would do that work
no longer. He told me that I must do it; he would make me do it. I
answered that he might kill me, or punish me in any way he pleased,
but he could not make me do that kind of labor, and I threw down my
hammer and refused to work a moment longer.
The Warden left me and sent Deputy Warden Morey to try me. He
approached me in a kindly way, and I showed my blistered hands to
him. He thought that was the way to "toughen" me. I thought not, and
said so, and, moreover, told him I would never make another heel
ring in that prison, and I never did.
He sent me to my cell and I stayed there a week, till my hands were
well. Then the Deputy came to me and asked me if I was willing to
learn to hew out scythe snaths in the rough for the shavers, who
finished them? I said I would try. I went into the shop and was
shown how the work was to be done. Every man was expected to hew out
fifty snaths in a day. In three or four days the shop-keeper came
and overlooked me while I was working in my bungling way, and said
if I couldn't do better than that I must clear out of his shop and
do something else. My reply was that I did not understand the
business, and had no desire or intention to learn it. He sent for
the Deputy Warden, who came and expressed the opinion that I could
not do anything.
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