I got up and went my way with the thought that I had got more out of that prison and its keepers than they got out of me. I think the same to-day of every prison I went into. There were times when I thought I got a bit more punishment than was coming to me, but I don’t regret a minute of it now. Each of us must be tempered in some fire. Nobody had more to do with choosing the fire that tempered me than myself, and instead of finding fault with the fire I give thanks that I had the metal to take the temper and hold it. I have hopes that these lines will be read by many convicts and ex-convicts, and they are nothing if not critical readers. I am not trying to lay down any “rules and regulations” for their guidance on the outside, but I want to say this—any prisoner who comes out of prison saying to himself, “I can’t quit; it’s too late; I’m wrecked and ruined; every man’s hand’s against me; if I get a job some copper will snitch on me to my boss, or if that don’t happen the other ‘cons’ will blackmail me; there’s no use trying, I can’t quit”—any “ex-con” who says that is sentencing himself to a jolt that the most heartless and hard-boiled criminal-court judge couldn’t conceive of. The other “con” who comes out time after time saying to himself cold-bloodedly and calculatingly, “I won’t quit,” might change his mind some time and say, “I will quit.” When he wills it, he does it, and no copper snitches him out of his job. If there is any such animal as the blackmailing “ex-con” he gives the “will” chap a wide berth. I now went to Vancouver and took it easy for a week, resting up, reading papers, and trying to get my bearings. I saw nothing of Chew Chee, the China boy. He didn’t show up in the prison while I was there, and I have no doubt he quit stealing while he was all to the good and went on the square. Falling in with an outfit of bums and beggars at Vancouver I heard glowing reports of the prosperous mining towns in the interior of British Columbia and decided to visit them. A week’s journey over the Canadian Pacific Railway and down the Columbia River found me in the Kootenai mining district. Everything I touched turned to money. The sudden change from no liberty at all in prison to all the liberty in the world almost wrecked me. I didn’t think of saving the money so dangerously earned, but squandered it drinking, gambling, and making many trips across the line into the states where there were more opportunities for spending and dissipating. At last a very valuable parcel of stones found its way into my hands. It was suicide to try to dispose of them on the Canadian side, and I bought a ticket to Pocatello and Salt Chunk Mary. I had been away from there almost four years, and had no fear that the town whittler would remember me, even if he was still on the job, and besides I was hungry for a look at Mary and for a feed of her beans and salt pork.