Loneliness and freedom were the breath of his life; and was he to exchange them for an eight-foot cell with a spy-hole in the door? "Decidedly I'd rather hang," he said to himself in a crawling sweat. He faced a new idea. "I believe I funk prison."

Fear. It was an unfamiliar feeling. He had never been afraid of men, not even as a boy on the Immerwald when the mate had been drinking; he had kept out of the way at such times, but he had grinned indifferent. Nor was he afraid of death; he had seen it too often. But this? "I've never had much opinion of men who funk things, but I believe I'd run like a hare if it was a question of prison—well, to all intents and purposes I did. Pleasant. I didn't know I was a coward before. Hullo! is that that poor little woman again? If she loses her kid, I shall feel like a murderer."

An idea, conceived in his mind hours before, had been growing in secret, and now came suddenly to birth as a resolution. "If she loses her kid through me, I'll hold my tongue about Trent's last bit of beastliness," he said, and registered the vow. "I do owe her something, and I'll pay this way. It'll mean a lot to her: I believe nothing, not his death nor even the kid's, would hit her so hard as that last thing he said. Probably it didn't in the least represent his normal attitude, but a woman would never see that. She'd feel as I felt when I heard Pilar— No, that I'll spare her! Yet it'll mean a lot to me too—great heavens, but it will! Say I'm committed for trial after this inquest. If I tell the whole truth, I shall probably be acquitted. If I don't I may get—six months? a year? Oh, Lord! The point is that mine's such a beastly lame story without that speech; I'm throwing away my one excuse.... Yet if I speak I shall make a clean sweep of all she has left, after practically robbing her of her husband and child—no, I can't and won't, sea lo que fuere, in common decency I must hold my tongue. Well, anyhow, this disposes of any idea of my owning up voluntarily, as Denis wants—by the way, I must give him a hint to shut his mouth too. He'll do it to spare a woman, even if it involves sacrificing me. Chivalrous is Denis; I suspect he'll come a bad cropper one of these days, and it'll hurt him worse than it did me, because he's finer stuff. There's the dawn—I wonder how it looks over the Semois at Frahan? What a jolly place the world is! and I've an impression that in a manslaughter case they won't allow bail. Well, I've done enough soul-searching for the present, and I think I will now go to by-by. Amanecerá Dios, y medraremos."

Five minutes later he was asleep under the paling stars, while 

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