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- Джек Лондон
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- Стр. 17/210
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It
is
strange
--
life
and
men
's
ways
and
laws
and
tangled
paths
.
I
am
writing
these
lines
in
the
very
cell
in
Murderers
'
Row
that
Jake
Oppenheimer
occupied
ere
they
took
him
out
and
did
to
him
what
they
are
going
to
do
to
me
.
I
warned
you
I
had
many
things
to
write
about
.
I
shall
now
return
to
my
narrative
.
The
Board
of
Prison
Directors
gave
me
my
choice
:
a
prison
trustyship
and
surcease
from
the
jute-looms
if
I
gave
up
the
non-existent
dynamite
;
life
imprisonment
in
solitary
if
I
refused
to
give
up
the
non-existent
dynamite
.
They
gave
me
twenty-four
hours
in
the
jacket
to
think
it
over
.
Then
I
was
brought
before
the
Board
a
second
time
.
What
could
I
do
?
I
could
not
lead
them
to
the
dynamite
that
was
not
.
I
told
them
so
,
and
they
told
me
I
was
a
liar
.
They
told
me
I
was
a
hard
case
,
a
dangerous
man
,
a
moral
degenerate
,
the
criminal
of
the
century
.
They
told
me
many
other
things
,
and
then
they
carried
me
away
to
the
solitary
cells
.
I
was
put
into
Number
One
cell
.
In
Number
Five
lay
Ed
Morrell
.
In
Number
Twelve
lay
Jake
Oppenheimer
.
And
he
had
been
there
for
ten
years
.
Ed
Morrell
had
been
in
his
cell
only
one
year
.
He
was
serving
a
fifty-years
'
sentence
.
Jake
Oppenheimer
was
a
lifer
.
And
so
was
I
a
lifer
.
Wherefore
the
outlook
was
that
the
three
of
us
would
remain
there
for
a
long
time
.
And
yet
,
six
years
only
are
past
,
and
not
one
of
us
is
in
solitary
.
Jake
Oppenheimer
was
swung
off
.
Ed
Morrell
was
made
head
trusty
of
San
Quentin
and
then
pardoned
out
only
the
other
day
.
And
here
I
am
in
Folsom
waiting
the
day
duly
set
by
Judge
Morgan
,
which
will
be
my
last
day
The
fools
!
As
if
they
could
throttle
my
immortality
with
their
clumsy
device
of
rope
and
scaffold
!
I
shall
walk
,
and
walk
again
,
oh
,
countless
times
,
this
fair
earth
.
And
I
shall
walk
in
the
flesh
,
be
prince
and
peasant
,
savant
and
fool
,
sit
in
the
high
place
and
groan
under
the
wheel
.
It
was
very
lonely
,
at
first
,
in
solitary
,
and
the
hours
were
long
.
Time
was
marked
by
the
regular
changing
of
the
guards
,
and
by
the
alternation
of
day
and
night
.
Day
was
only
a
little
light
,
but
it
was
better
than
the
all-dark
of
the
night
.
In
solitary
the
day
was
an
ooze
,
a
slimy
seepage
of
light
from
the
bright
outer
world
.
Never
was
the
light
strong
enough
to
read
by
.
Besides
,
there
was
nothing
to
read
.
One
could
only
lie
and
think
and
think
.
And
I
was
a
lifer
,
and
it
seemed
certain
,
if
I
did
not
do
a
miracle
,
make
thirty-five
pounds
of
dynamite
out
of
nothing
,
that
all
the
years
of
my
life
would
be
spent
in
the
silent
dark
.
My
bed
was
a
thin
and
rotten
tick
of
straw
spread
on
the
cell
floor
.
One
thin
and
filthy
blanket
constituted
the
covering
.
There
was
no
chair
,
no
table
--
nothing
but
the
tick
of
straw
and
the
thin
,
aged
blanket
.
I
was
ever
a
short
sleeper
and
ever
a
busy-brained
man
.
In
solitary
one
grows
sick
of
oneself
in
his
thoughts
,
and
the
only
way
to
escape
oneself
is
to
sleep
.
For
years
I
had
averaged
five
hours
'
sleep
a
night
.
I
now
cultivated
sleep
.
I
made
a
science
of
it
.
I
became
able
to
sleep
ten
hours
,
then
twelve
hours
,
and
,
at
last
,
as
high
as
fourteen
and
fifteen
hours
out
of
the
twenty-four
.
But
beyond
that
I
could
not
go
,
and
,
perforce
,
was
compelled
to
lie
awake
and
think
and
think
.
And
that
way
,
for
an
active-brained
man
,
lay
madness
.
I
sought
devices
to
enable
me
mechanically
to
abide
my
waking
hours
.
I
squared
and
cubed
long
series
of
numbers
,
and
by
concentration
and
will
carried
on
most
astonishing
geometric
progressions
.
I
even
dallied
with
the
squaring
of
the
circle
...
until
I
found
myself
beginning
to
believe
that
that
possibility
could
be
accomplished
.
Whereupon
,
realizing
that
there
,
too
,
lay
madness
,
I
forwent
the
squaring
of
the
circle
,
although
I
assure
you
it
required
a
considerable
sacrifice
on
my
part
,
for
the
mental
exercise
involved
was
a
splendid
time-killer
.
By
sheer
visualization
under
my
eyelids
I
constructed
chess-boards
and
played
both
sides
of
long
games
through
to
checkmate
.
But
when
I
had
become
expert
at
this
visualized
game
of
memory
the
exercise
palled
on
me
.
Exercise
it
was
,
for
there
could
be
no
real
contest
when
the
same
player
played
both
sides
.
I
tried
,
and
tried
vainly
,
to
split
my
personality
into
two
personalities
and
to
pit
one
against
the
other
.
But
ever
I
remained
the
one
player
,
with
no
planned
ruse
or
strategy
on
one
side
that
the
other
side
did
not
immediately
apprehend
.
