very strange place that he had never seen before. There was a sort of hut all black outside and a strong sulphur odour in the air. Pito decided to enter the place to see if somebody was around. When he passed the door, he saw a small room with no windows at all. At the back of the room a very little, old man was seated in a chair smoking a pipe. When he saw Pito he grinned sarcastically. You are looking for the Treasure of Buzaga, aren't you? the old man said. Pito was surprised when the old man said that but he took it as an indi- cation that he was on the right trail. Yes, Pito said after a few seconds. 'tBut, he continued, why do you ask me that? Do you know anything about the treasure?', The old man grinned again. He took two or three puffs at his pipe and then he said: Sabe mas el diablo por viejo que por diablo. CWell, the devil knows more because he is old than because he is the devil.j I've been here many years and I have met many men who were looking for the treasure. They asked me the same questions again and again. I told them what I knew about it but they did not listen to me, so they never found the cave. What did you tell t.hem?'l Pito asked eagerly. Listen, the old man said. Listen very carefully. I am going to make a deal with you. If you agree with me, you will be the richest man in this place. If you don't, then you will be as miserable as you are now for the rest of your life. Pito was sweating from his head to his feet and he said nothing. This is it, the old man continued, I know where the treasure of Buzaga is hidden. I discovered the secret a long time ago from an old Indian, who came here with three bullet. wounds in his back. He was shot by two bandits who were looking for the same thing you are. I did all that I could for him but he died after a few hours. But before he died he told me the exact place where I could find the treasure. What have you been waiting for? Pito asked with curiosity. Look, said thc old man, taking away the blanket which was covering his legs. The poor ancient was crippled from the knees down. Now you know why I haven't been looking for the cave. I've been waiting for a valiant. man like you to make my dream possible. Now this is the deal of which I told you before: If you will carry me on your back all the way up, we can go and find the treasure. That would be very simple for you. What do you say?l' Pito was all excited after listening to the cripple. When shall we go? he said at once. Tomorrow morning before dawn, was the answer. The next day they started walking early, Pito carrying the old .man as he had promised. They travelled for about four hours without resting and Sixteen
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nocturne CITY, THE GREATEST CONCENTRATION of the results of man's efforts which exists, leaves many different impressions in the minds of its creators, but to me, the most vivid impression is the one I get from a city at night. At night the city is a different world. At night the noise is stilledg the dirt and filth are concealed under a blanket of darkness, and the city becomes a fairyland of light and shadow. The buildings, cold, forbidding, and massive by day, are now but a dark background for a myriad of lighted windows. The long aisles of blackness which are the streets are a shadowy unknown. The streetlamps, so inc-onspicuous by day, become glaring beacons. A streetcar is, by night, a noisy little island of light and life, which comes and then goes, leaving everything as it was before. Have you ever seen a city by night reiiected in a harbor? There the lights are given motion by the ripples of the water, and the city becomes an ever- changing pattern of flashing lights and black shadow. Rain may come with the night, and the city will appear even m-ore beautiful. When there is rain by day, there is grayness, but at night the wet streets and sidewalks reflect the lights and the city is iridescent. The people by night are nothing like the people by day. By daylight, every person is an individual, his features are different and his clothes are different from those of his fellows. At night every man loses his individuality and becomes just another shadow, with but one thing to distinguish him from the inanimate shadows of the city. He has motion. He is a slowly moving silhouette, then he steps into the cone of light from a streetlamp, is, for a moment, sharply outlined, and then disappears into the darkness beyond the light. But the magic of the night cannot last forever. The sky lightens and the stars and moon fade out. Shadowy black masses begin to take on form, the lights pale, then morning comes, and the beauty and mystery vanish with the night. -PETER VAN ROYEN A THOUGHT The other day a thought struck me, Why do lemmings drown at sea? But another strange thing, And it 's just as dim, Why do humans bend to their every whim? O 'Brian Boru. Eighteen
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