Why, look at one of them prisoners in the bottom dungeon of the Castle Deef, in the harbor of Marseilles, that dug himself out that way; how long was he at it, you reckon?” “I don’t know.” “Well, guess.” “I don’t know. A month and a half.” “Thirty-seven year—and he come out in China. That’s the kind. I wish the bottom of this fortress was solid rock.” “Jim don’t know nobody in China.”
