A great yellow moon had stolen over the low range of stony hills--the mist was curling away in little wreaths of gold.

Trent was watching it, but if you had asked him he would have told you that he was wondering when the alligators came out to feed, and how near the village they ventured.

Looking at his hard, square face and keen, black eyes no one would surely have credited him with any less material thoughts.
"Furthermore," the man whom Trent had addressed as Monty continued, "there arises the question of danger and physical suitability to the situation.

Contrast our two cases, my dear young friend.

I am twenty-five years older than you, I have a weak heart, a ridiculous muscle, and the stamina of a rabbit.