These rooms where the miners work are about twenty-eight inches in
height, twenty-four inches wide, and about fifty feet long. Think of
working in such a place as that! Oh, how often have I sighed for room
enough to spread myself! How I would have made that coal fly had the
vein been on top where I could have stood on my feet and mined. George
Mullen, the convict who was to teach me to mine, was at the farther
end of the room at work when we entered. We crawled on our hands and
knees to him, and when my guide had delivered his message he withdrew
and hastened back to his headquarters near the stand where his officer
sat.

After he had gone and my room-mate and myself were left alone, about
the first question that George asked me was, "How long have you got?"

"Eighteen stretches," was my quick reply.

George loved me dearly from that moment. I very soon discovered that I
was very popular with him on account of my long sentence.

"How long are you in for?" said I to him.

"Always," was his answer.

He was a life prisoner. At one time he was marshal of a Kansas town,
and while acting in that capacity he killed his man. He was trying to
arrest him, so he informed me, and the fellow showed fight, when he
took out his gun and shot him. It was claimed by the authorities that
the shooting was unprovoked, and that the man could have been arrested
without killing him. Aside from the fact that he had killed his man, I
must say that I never met a man for whom I had a higher regard. He was