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long darkness； and had been so long pent in narrow walls that I was
made dizzy by large open spaces。 Really； mime was a well…defined
case of incipient agoraphobia； as I quickly learned that day I
escaped from solitary and punched the guard Thurston on the nose。
I struck him on the nose and made it bleed when he got in my way and
tried to catch hold of me。 And so they are going to hang me。 It is
the written law of the State of California that a life…timer like me
is guilty of a capital crime when he strikes a prison guard like
Thurston。 Surely； he could not have been inconvenienced more than
half an hour by that bleeding nose； and yet they are going to hang
me for it。
And； see！ This law； in my case； is EX POST FACTO。 It was not a law
at the time I killed Professor Haskell。 It was not passed until
after I received my life…sentence。 And this is the very point： my
life…sentence gave me my status under this law which had not yet
been written on the books。 And it is because of my status of life…
timer that I am to be hanged for battery committed on the guard
Thurston。 It is clearly EX POST FACTO； and； therefore；
unconstitutional。
But what bearing has the Constitution on constitutional lawyers when
they want to put the notorious Professor Darrell Standing out of the
way？ Nor do I even establish the precedent with my execution。 A
year ago； as everybody who reads the newspapers knows； they hanged
Jake Oppenheimer； right here in Folsom； for a precisely similar
offence 。 。 。 only； in his case of battery； he was not guilty of
making a guard's nose bleed。 He cut a convict unintentionally with
a bread…knife。
It is strangelife 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。
CHAPTER V
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 tablenothing 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。
And time was very heavy and very long。 I played games with flies；
with ordinary houseflies that oozed into solitary as did the dim
gray light； and learned that they possessed a sense of play。 For
instance； lying on the cell floor； I established an arbitrary and
imaginary line along the wall some three feet above the floor。 When
they rested on the wall above this line they were left in peace。
The instant they lighted on the wall below the line I tried to catch
them。 I was careful never to hurt them； and； in time； they knew as
precisely as did I where ran the imaginary line。 When they desired
to play； they lighted below the line； and often for an hour at a
time a single fly would engage in the sport。 When it grew tired； it
would come to rest on the safe territory above。
Of the dozen or more flies that