One crowded hour of glorious company is worth a hundred years in a solitary cell.

I may have got that a little wrong, too, but it sounds well." He sat down in Turkish fashion on the floor, folding a pair of extremely long legs beneath him, and regarded Ned with a slow, quizzical smile.
For the life of him the boy could not keep from smiling back.

With the nearer view he could see now that the eyes were blue and honest.
"You may think I'm a Mexican," continued the man in his mellow, pleasant voice, "but I'm not.

I'm a Texan--by the way of Maine.

As I told you, I live in the next tomb, the one on the right.