siphons. And in the silence
Trefethan's voice fell like a funeral bell:

"It would have been better had I stayed. Look at me."

We saw his grizzled mustache, the bald spot on his head, the puff-sacks
under his eyes, the sagging cheeks, the heavy dewlap, the general
tiredness and staleness and fatness, all the collapse and ruin of a man
who had once been strong but who had lived too easily and too well.

"It's not too late, old man," Bardwell said, almost in a whisper.

"By God! I wish I weren't a coward!" was Trefethan's answering cry. "I
could go back to her. She's there, now. I could shape up and live many a
long year... with her... up there. To remain here is to commit suicide.
But I am an old man--forty-seven--look at me. The trouble is," he lifted
his glass and glanced at it, "the trouble is that suicide of this sort
is so easy. I am soft and tender. The thought of the long day's travel
with the dogs appalls me; the thought of the keen frost in the morning
and of the frozen sled-lashings frightens me--"

Automatically the glass was creeping toward his lips. With a swift
surge of anger he made as if to crash it down upon the floor. Next came
hesitancy and second thought. The glass moved upward to his lips and
paused. He laughed harshly and bitterly, but his words were solemn:

"Well, here's to the Night-Born. She WAS a wonder."

THE MADNESS OF JOHN HARNED

I TELL this for a fact. It happened in the bull-ring at Quito. I sat
in the box with John Harned, and with Maria Valenzuela, and with Luis
Cervallos. I saw it happen. I saw it all from first to last. I was on
the steamer Ecuadore from Panama to Guayaquil. Maria Valenzuela is
my cousin. I have known her always. She is very beautiful. I am a
Spaniard--an Ecuadoriano, true, but I am descended from Pedro Patino,
who was one of Pizarro's captains. They were brave men. They were
heroes. Did not Pizarro lead three hundred and fifty Spanish cavaliers
and four thousand Indians into the far Cordilleras in search of
treasure? And did not all the four thousand Indians and three hundred
of the brave cavaliers die on that vain quest? But Pedro Patino did
not die. He it was that lived to found the family of the Patino. I am
Ecuadoriano, true, but I am Spanish. I am Manuel de Jesus Patino. I own
many haciendas, and ten thousand Indians are my slaves, though the law
says they are free men who work by freedom of contract. The law is a
funny thing. We Ecuadorianos lau