He had many friends, good and bad. I do not think the
man was intentionally bad, but I do not excuse him. He was a fool--that's
all--a fool. And, as fools must, he paid the price of his foolishness.
"A sentence of thirty years in the penitentiary is a big price for a young
man to pay for being a fool, Miss Andres. He was twenty-five when he went
in--strong and vigorous, with a good mind; the prospects years of prison
life--but that's not the story. I could not hope to make you understand
what a thirty years sentence to the penitentiary means to a man of
twenty-five. But, at least, you will not wonder that the man watched for
an opportunity to escape. He prayed for an opportunity. For ten
years,--ten years,--Miss Andres, the man watched and prayed for a chance
to escape. Then he got away.
"He was never a criminal at heart, you must understand. He had no wish,
now, to live a life of crime. He wished only to live a sane, orderly,
useful, life of freedom. They hunted him to the mountains. They could not
take him, but they made it impossible for him to escape--he was
starving--dying. He would not give himself up to the twenty years of hell
that waited him. He did not want to die--but he would die rather than go
back.
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