midnight
Tired , wet and dirty , how I envied the Prodigal lying warm and cosy on his fragrant hay . He was reading a novel . But the thought that I had earned a dollar comforted me . After supper he , with Ginger and Dutchy , played solo till near midnight , while I tossed on my bunk too weary and sore to sleep . Next day was a repetition of the first , only worse . I ached as if I had been beaten . Stiff and sore I dragged myself to the tunnel again .