DORAN LIMPED, HOLDING HIS GROINS — he was led into the big-yard after more than a month's absence, after his recent surgery and recuperation period. He was accompanied by the baton armed Capt. Olsen, and her dozen rotang guards, who were teemed down by the gusto crowd of rushing well-wishers.

The majority of the amiable denizens were cheering while the Preacher waved back — it was the same aesthetic hero's welcome that he felt within him after the flogging he received at the goalpost in the month before.

Michael the priest-monk approached — and he was slapped by Capt. Olsen when he came nearer — it was the warden's stern order that the blanket-monks should be kept clear away from their direct contact to their leader.

From outside their fence in Block D, the disturbed Hispanics with Ramirez and his Lieutenants witnessed the occurrence — hearing everyone in the yard chanting out his name. Reeves was with True Bob and Troy at their corner, and they too gazed at the distend White crowd, now being diverted by swinging rotangs.

The guards had diverged the man of the cloth to a discreet location in the yard...

At the far corner of the yard, beside the public urinal area was a three-foot by the three-foot metal cage with iron bars and a tin roof. It was specially prefabricated a day earlier for Doran — it was the warden's de rigueur punishment to shame the rebel leader in front of the gen-pop public's eye who used the urinal.

Olsen affronted by waving her baton sternly at her own guard's face and she barked...

"Gina, you take the first 4-hour watch in the gashouse — and followed by Krista — Remember — nobody comes near the Preacher's cage! If any freak turns up, you use your stick and knock their teeth off, is that clear?"