s on his knees, his head dropped into his
hands, pondering the mystery of this life before him--of all life, of
death, of the Beyond; marvelling at the strange warp and woof of
circumstance, his heart wrung for the anguish of that mother far away in
the quarries of The Gore, his soul filled with thankfulness that she was
spared the sight of _this_.

The gray November dawn began to dim the electric light in the room. He
went to a window, opened the inner blinds and looked out. The storm was
not over, but the wind had lessened and the flakes fell sparsely. He
looked across over the neighboring roofs weighted with snow; the wires
were down. A muffled sound of street traffic heralded the beginning day.
As he turned back to the cot he saw that Champney's eyes were open; but
the look in them was dazed. They closed directly. When they opened
again, the full light of day was in the room; semi-consciousness had
returned. He spoke feebly:

"Where am I?"

"Here, safe with me, Champney." He leaned over him, but saw that he was
not recognized.

"Who are you?"

"Your friend, Father Honore."

"Father Honore--" he murmured, "I don't know you." He gave a convulsive
start--"Where are the Eyes gone?" he whispered, a look of horror
creeping into his own.

"There are none here, none but mine, Champney. Listen; you are safe with
me, safe, do you understand?"

He gave no answer, but the dazed look returned. He moistened his parched
lips with his tongue and swallowed hard. Father Honore held a glass of
water to his mouth, slipping an arm and hand beneath his head to raise
him. He drank with avidity; tried to sit up, but fell back exhausted.
The priest busied himself with preparing some hot beef extract on the
little stove. When it was ready he sat down by the cot and fed it to him
spoonful by spoonful.

"Thank you," Champney said quietly when the priest had finished his
ministration. He turned a little on his side and fell asleep.

The sleep was that which follows exhaustion; it was profound and
beneficial. Evidently no distress of mind or body marred it, and for
every sixty minutes of the blessed oblivion, there was renewed activity
in nature's ever busy laboratory to replenish the strength that had been
sacrificed in this man's protracted struggle to escape his doom, and, by
means of it, to restore the mental balance, fortunately not too long
lost....

When he awoke, it was to full consciousness. The sun was setting. Behind
t