of the visitor. But when the Prosecutor came, he acted quite differently, usually hiding in his nest and keeping entirely silent. If the Prosecutor remained for a longer time in the cell, the bird would sometimes perch on the window sill, spread his wings and squeak abuses in common, hysterical tones. Once the door had closed behind the unwelcome guest, my winged friend would immediately start flying about joyfully and showing his evident pleasure.
When I made sure that the sparrow was quite well and strong, I decided to set him free, to send him back as a messenger, as it were, to that world of liberty which was so near in linear feet but so immeasurably distant in fact from those of us who could not accompany him. I took him out into the yard, where nearly the whole prison had assembled to bid him God-speed. As I lifted my hand from his wings, he arose like an unhooded falcon in quest of his quarry and shot up toward the trees just outside the prison wall. Though he never came back, I was not angry with him, for I understood that liberty, to which he was restored, was the highest right and greatest treasure of living beings and that, with it and its ramifications, any creature might be all-engrossed.
Remaining as long as I did in prison, I found and developed many interesting and gratifying friendships among animals. In the number of these friends I counted cats, dogs, rats, tortoise, fish, a hen and—a spider. Through these acquaintances in the animal kingdom I learned, first of all, that animals are tamed very readily, but that they must be given to know what man wants of them and that he will give them what they desire. Also I came to feel sure that animals have a sixth sense, telepathic, very acute and something akin to the "side line" of the fish. By its medium they sense and understand
