chance。〃
  That　man　was　Philadelphia　Red。　　Because　of　prior　conviction　he　was
  serving　fifty　years　for　highway　robbery　committed　on　the　streets　of
  Alameda。　　He　had　already　served　a　dozen　of　his　years　at　the　time　he
  talked　to　me　in　the　jacket；　and　that　was　seven　years　ago。　　He　was
  one　of　the　forty　lifers　who　were　double…crossed　by　Cecil　Winwood。
  For　that　offence　Philadelphia　Red　lost　his　credits。　　He　is　middle…
  aged　now；　and　he　is　still　in　San　Quentin。　　If　he　survives　he　will　be
  an　old　man　when　they　let　him　out。
  I　lived　through　my　twenty…four　hours；　and　I　have　never　been　the　same
  man　since。　　Oh；　I　don't　mean　physically；　although　next　morning；　when
  they　unlaced　me；　I　was　semi…paralyzed　and　in　such　a　state　of
  collapse　that　the　guards　had　to　kick　me　in　the　ribs　to　make　me　crawl
  to　my　feet。　　But　I　was　a　changed　man　mentally；　morally。　　The　brute
  physical　torture　of　it　was　humiliation　and　affront　to　my　spirit　and
  to　my　sense　of　justice。　　Such　discipline　does　not　sweeten　a　man。　　I
  emerged　from　that　first　jacketing　filled　with　a　bitterness　and　a
  passionate　hatred　that　has　only　increased　through　the　years。　　My
  Godwhen　I　think　of　the　things　men　have　done　to　me！　　Twenty…four
  hours　in　the　jacket！　　Little　I　thought　that　morning　when　they　kicked
  me　to　my　feet　that　the　time　would　come　when　twenty…four　hours　in　the
  jacket　meant　nothing；　when　a　hundred　hours　in　the　jacket　found　me
  smiling　when　they　released　me；　when　two　hundred　and　forty　hours　in
  the　jacket　found　the　same　smile　on　my　lips。
  Yes；　two　hundred　and　forty　hours。　　Dear　cotton…woolly　citizen；　do
  you　know　what　that　means？　　It　means　ten　days　and　ten　nights　in　the
  jacket。　　Of　course；　such　things　are　not　done　anywhere　in　the
  Christian　world　nineteen　hundred　years　after　Christ。　　I　don't　ask
  you　to　believe　me。　　I　don't　believe　it　myself。　　I　merely　know　that
  it　was　done　to　me　in　San　Quentin；　and　that　I　lived　to　laugh　at　them
  and　to　compel　them　to　get　rid　of　me　by　swinging　me　off　because　I
  bloodied　a　guard's　nose。
  I　write　these　lines　to…day　in　the　Year　of　Our　Lord　1913；　and　to…day；
  in　the　Year　of　Our　Lord　1913；　men　are　lying　in　the　jacket　in　the
  dungeons　of　San　Quentin。
  I　shall　never　forget；　as　long　as　further　living　and　further　lives　be
  vouchsafed　me；　my　parting　from　Philadelphia　Red　that　morning。　　He
  had　then　been　seventy…four　hours　in　the　jacket。
  〃Well；　brother；　you're　still　alive　an'　kickin'；〃　he　called　to　me；　as
  I　was　totteringly　dragged　from　my　cell　into　the　corridor　of
  dungeons。
  〃Shut　up；　you；　Red；〃　the　sergeant　snarled　at　him。
  〃Forget　it；〃　was　the　retort。
  〃I'll　get　you　yet；　Red；〃　the　sergeant　threatened。
  〃Think　so？〃　Philadelphia　Red　queried　sweetly；　ere　his　tones　turned
  to　savageness。　　〃Why；　you　old　stiff；　you　couldn't　get　nothin'。　　You
  couldn't　get　a　free　lunch；　much　less　the　job　you've　got　now；　if　it
  wasn't　for　your　brother's　pull。　　An'　I　guess　we　all　ain't　mistaken
  on　the　stink　of　the　place　where　your　brother's　pull　comes　from。〃
  It　was　admirablethe　spirit　of　man　rising　above　its　extremity；
  fearless　of　the　hurt　any　brute　of　the　system　could　inflict。
  〃Well；　so　long；　brother；〃　Philadelphia　Red　next　called　to　me。　　〃So
  long。　　Be　good；　an'　love　the　Warden。　　An'　if　you　see　'em；　just　tell
  'em　that　you　saw　me　but　that　you　didn't　see　me　saw。〃
  The　sergeant　was　red　with　rage；　and；　by　the　receipt　of　various　kicks
  and　blows；　I　paid　for　Red's　pleasantry。
  CHAPTER　VIII
  In　solitary；　in　Cell　One；　Warden　Atherton　and　Captain　Jamie
  proceeded　to　put　me　to　the　inquisition。　　As　Warden　Atherton　said　to
  me：
  〃Standing；　you're　going　to　come　across　with　that　dynamite；　or　I'll
  kill　you　in　the　jacket。　　Harder　cases　than　you　have　come　across
  before　I　got　done　with　them。　　You've　got　your　choicedynamite　or
  curtains。〃
  〃Then　I　guess　it　is　curtains；〃　I　answered；　〃because　I　don't　know　of
  any　dynamite。〃
  This　irritated　the　Warden　to　immediate　action。　　〃Lie　down；〃　he
  commanded。
  I　obeyed；　for　I　had　learned　the　folly　of　fighting　three　or　four
  strong　men。　　They　laced　me　tightly；　and　gave　me　a　hundred　hours。
  Once　each　twenty…four　hours　I　was　permitted　a　drink　of　water。　　I　had
  no　desire　for　food；　nor　was　food　offered　me。　　Toward　the　end　of　the
  hundred　hours　Jackson；　the　prison　doctor；　examined　my　physical
  condition　several　times。
  But　I　had　grown　too　used　to　the　jacket　during　my　incorrigible　days
  to　let　a　single　jacketing　injure　me。　　Naturally；　it　weakened　me；
  took　the　life　out　of　me；　but　I　had　learned　muscular　tricks　for
  stealing　a　little　space　while　they　were　lacing　me。　　At　the　end　of
  the　first　hundred　hours'　bout　I　was　worn　and　tired；　but　that　was
  all。　　Another　bout　of　this　duration　they　gave　me；　after　a　day　and　a
  night　to　recuperate。　　And　then　they　gave　one　hundred　and　fifty
  hours。　　Much　of　this　time　I　was　physically　numb　and　mentally
  delirious。　　Also；　by　an　effort　of　will；　I　managed　to　sleep　away　long
  hours。
  Next；　Warden　Atherton　tried　a　variation。　　I　was　given　irregular
  intervals　of　jacket　and　recuperation。　　I　never　knew　when　I　was　to　go
  into　the　jacket。　　Thus　I　would　have　ten　hours'　recuperation；　and　do
  twenty　in　the　jacket；　or　I　would　receive　only　four　hours'　rest。　　At
  the　most　unexpected　hours　of　the　night　my　door　would　clang　open　and
  the　changing　guards　would　lace　me。　　Sometimes　rhythms　were
  instituted。　　Thus；　for　three　days　and　nights　I　alternated　eight
  hours　in　the　jacket　and　eight　hours　out。　　And　then；　just　as　I　was
  growing　accustomed　to　this　rhythm；　it　was　suddenly　altered　and　I　was
  given　two　days　and　nights　straight。
  And　ever　the　eternal　question　was　propounded　to　me：　　Where　was　the
  dynamite？　　Sometimes　Warden　Atherton　was　furious　with　me。　　On
  occasion；　when　I　had　endured　an　extra　severe　jacketing；　he　almost
  pleaded　with　me　to　confess。　　Once　he　even　promised　me　three　months
  in　the　hospital　of　absolute　rest　and　good　food；　and　then　the　trusty
  job　in　the　library。
  Dr。　Jackson；　a　weak　stick　of　a　creature　with　a　smattering　of
  medicine；　grew　sceptical。　　He　insisted　that　jacketing；　no　matter　how
  prolonged；　could　never　kill　me；　and　his　insistence　was　a　challenge
  to　the　Warden　to　continue　the　attempt。
  〃These　lean　college　guys　'd　fool　the　devil；〃　he　grumbled。　　〃They're
  tougher　'n　raw…hide。　　Just　the　same　we'll　wear　him　down。　　Standing；
  you　hear　me。　　What　you've　got　ain't　a　caution　to　what　you're　going
  to　get。　　You　might　as　well　come　across　now　and　save　trouble。　　I'm　a
  man　of　my　word。　　You've　heard　me　say　dynamite　or　curtains。　　Well；
  that　stands。　　Take　your　choice。〃
  〃Surely　you　don't　think　I'm　holding　out　because　I　enjoy　it？〃　I
  managed　to　gasp；　for　at　the　moment　Pie…Face　Jones　was　forcing　his
  foot　into　my　back　in　order　to　cinch　me　tighter；　while　I　was　trying
  with　my　muscle　to　steal　slack。　　〃There　is　nothing　to　confess。　　Why；
  I'd　cut　off　my　right　hand　right　now　to　be　able　to　lead　you　to　any
  dynamite。〃
  〃Oh；　I've　seen　your　educated　kind　before；〃　he　sneered。　　〃You　get
  wheels　in　your　head；　some　of　you；　that　make　you　stick　to　any　old
  idea。　　You　get　baulky；　like　horses。　　Tighter；　Jones；　that　ain't　half
  a　cinch。　　Standing；　if　you　don't　come　across　it's　curtains。　　I　stick
  by　that。〃
  One　compensation　I　learned。　　As　one　grows　weaker　one　is　less
  susceptible　to　suffering。　　There　is　less　hurt　because　there　is　less
  to　hurt。　　And　the　man　already　well　weakened　grows　weaker　more
  slowly。　　It　is　of　common　knowledge　that　unusually　strong　men　suffer
  more　severely　from　ordinary　sicknesses　than　do　women　or　invalids。
  As　the　reserves　of　strength　are　consumed　there　is　less　strength　to
  lose。　　After　all　superfluous　flesh　is　gone　what　is　left　is　stringy
  and　resistant。　　In　fact；　that　was　what　I　becamea　sort　of　string…
  like　organism　that　persisted　in　living。
  Morrell　and　Oppenheimer　were　sorry　for　me；　and　rapped　me　sympathy
  and　advice。　　Oppenheimer　told　me　he　had　gone　through　it；　and　worse；
  and　still　lived。
  〃Don't　let　them　beat　you　out；〃　he　spelled　with　his　knuckles。　　〃Don't
  let　them　kill　you；　for　that　would　suit　them。　　And　don't　squeal　on
  the　plant。〃
  〃But　there　isn't　any　plant；〃　I　rapped　back　with　the　edge　of　the　sole
  of　my　shoe　against　the　gratingI　was　in　the　jacket　at　the　time　and
  so　could　talk　only　with　my　feet。　　〃I　don't　know　anything　about　the
  damned　dynamite。〃
  〃That's　right；〃　Oppenheimer　praised。　　〃He's　the　stuff；　ain't　he；
  Ed？〃
  Which　goes　to　show　what　chance　I　had　of　convincing　Warden　Atherton
  of　my　ignorance　of　the　dynamite。　　His　very　persistence　in　the　quest
  convinced　a　man　like　Jake　Oppenheimer；　who　could　only　admire　me　for
  the　fortitude　with　which　I　kept　a　close　mouth。
  During　this　first　period　of　the　jacket…inquisition　I　managed　to
  sleep　a　great　deal。　　My　dreams　were　remarkable。　　Of　course　they　were
  vivid　and　real；　as　most　dreams　are。　　What　made　them　remarkable　was
  their　coherence　and　continuity。　　Often　I　addressed　bodies　of
  scientists　on　abstruse　subjects；　reading　aloud　to