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- Джек Лондон
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Yea
,
dear
brother
of
the
outside
world
,
while
the
whitewash
was
running
off
the
press
,
while
the
august
senators
were
wining
and
dining
,
we
three
of
the
living
dead
,
buried
alive
in
solidarity
,
were
sweating
our
pain
in
the
canvas
torture
.
And
after
the
dinner
,
warm
with
wine
,
Warden
Atherton
himself
came
to
see
how
fared
it
with
us
.
Me
,
as
usual
,
they
found
in
coma
.
Doctor
Jackson
for
the
first
time
must
have
been
alarmed
.
I
was
brought
back
across
the
dark
to
consciousness
with
the
bite
of
ammonia
in
my
nostrils
.
I
smiled
into
the
faces
bent
over
me
.
"
Shamming
,
"
snorted
the
Warden
,
and
I
knew
by
the
flush
on
his
face
and
the
thickness
in
his
tongue
that
he
had
been
drinking
.
I
licked
my
lips
as
a
sign
for
water
,
for
I
desired
to
speak
.
"
You
are
an
ass
,
"
I
at
last
managed
to
say
with
cold
distinctness
.
"
You
are
an
ass
,
a
coward
,
a
cur
,
a
pitiful
thing
so
low
that
spittle
would
be
wasted
on
your
face
.
In
such
matter
Jake
Oppenheimer
is
over-generous
with
you
.
As
for
me
,
without
shame
I
tell
you
the
only
reason
I
do
not
spit
upon
you
is
that
I
can
not
demean
myself
nor
so
degrade
my
spittle
.
"
"
I
've
reached
the
limit
of
my
patience
!
"
he
bellowed
.
"
I
will
kill
you
,
Standing
!
"
"
You
've
been
drinking
,
"
I
retorted
.
"
And
I
would
advise
you
,
if
you
must
say
such
things
,
not
to
take
so
many
of
your
prison
curs
into
your
confidence
.
They
will
snitch
on
you
some
day
,
and
you
will
lose
your
job
.
"
But
the
wine
was
up
and
master
of
him
.
"
Put
another
jacket
on
him
,
"
he
commanded
.
"
You
are
a
dead
man
,
Standing
.
But
you
'll
not
die
in
the
jacket
.
We
'll
bury
you
from
the
hospital
.
"
This
time
,
over
the
previous
jacket
,
the
second
jacket
was
put
on
from
behind
and
laced
up
in
front
.
