ind me, and then went away,
leaving me propped up.

Daylight was coming. The light of the candle contrasted but feebly
against the new light. I could see the pallets. On each was a man. There
were five. I counted,--one, two, three, four, five; five sick men. I
wondered if they were dreaming also, and if they were all sick in the
head ... no; no; such fantasy shows but more strongly that all this
horrible thing is unreal.

I counted again,--one, two, three, four, five, _six_; how is that?

Oh, I see; I have counted myself, this time.

Myself? What part or lot have I with these others? Who are they? Who am
I? I know nothing--nothing.

The man stood over me. I knew that he was a doctor. He said, "Are you
easier?"

I could not reply. He went away.

I closed my eyes, and again tried to think; again the effort brought
increased pain. I could hear a whirring noise in my ears. I tried to
sleep. I tried to quit thinking.

When I opened my eyes, the sun was shining. One side of the tent was
very bright.

A negro man came. I remembered that his name was William. He brought a
basin of water and a towel and sponge. He sponged my face and hands, and
dried them with the towel. Then he said, "Can you eat some breakfast?" I
could not reply.

The men on the pallets--five--were awake. They said nothing. The doctor
was kneeling by one of the pallets--the one next to me. The man on the
pallet groaned. The doctor said something to him. I could not tell what
the doctor said. The man groaned.

Another man, propped up on his pallet, was eating. I began to feel
hungry.

William brought a cup of tea, with a piece of biscuit floating in it.
He raised my head and put the cup to my lips. I drank. William
went away.

The sun was making the tent very warm. Many sounds came from outside.
What caused the sounds I did not know. I was near enough to the railroad
to hear the cars, but I knew the sounds were not from cars. I could hear
shouting, as if of wagoners.

All at once, I heard thunder--no; it could not be thunder; the sun was
shining. Yet, it might be thunder; a storm might be coming.

I wished that I was back in the hotel. I was sick, and it would not do
for me to get wet; this wagoner's tent was not the place for a sick man
in a storm.

But ... was there a hotel? The hotel was a dream--this was the reality.
I know nothing.

The doctor came. He looked at me, and smiled. I tried to smile in
return, for I liked him. "That's