SEVEN BARS . . . just seven iron railings away from the outside . . . the outside of here—of life . . . freedom itself. "O.K. Mac, gotta eat yer chow. . ." The slightly uncomfortable two hundred and twenty-seven pounds confined to the faded brown trousers made the not too tiresome work of jail flunky interesting, if not entertaining—and, profitable, at times...
"Seven Iron Railings,"
Sketch: Vol. 18
, Article 9.
Available at: http://lib.dr.iastate.edu/sketch/vol18/iss1/9