'O, my soul waiteth for the Lord more than they that watch for the
morning,' I heard him cry in a loud, despairing voice.

Then there was a bit of silence, in which I could hear him whispering of
his home and people.

Presently he began to sing:

'Guide me, O thou great Jehovah!
Pilgrim through this barren land
I am weak but thou art mighty'

His voice broke and trembled and sank into silence.

I had business of my own to look after--perhaps I had no time to
lose--and I went about it calmly. I had no strength to move and began to
feel the nearing of my time. The rain was falling faster. It chilled me
to the marrow as I felt it trickling over my back. I called to the man
who lay beside me--again and again I called to him--but got no answer.
Then I knew that he was dead and I alone. Long after that in the far
distance I heard a voice calling. It rang like a trumpet in the still
air. It grew plainer as I listened. My own name! William Brower? It was
certainly calling to me, and I answered with a feeble cry. In a moment
I could hear the tramp of someone coming. He was sitting beside me
presently, whoever it might be. I could not see him for the dark. His
tongue went clucking as if he pitied me.

'Who are you?' I remember asking, but got no answer.

At first I was glad, then I began to feel a mighty horror of him.

In a moment he had picked me up and was making off. The jolt of his step
seemed to be breaking my arms at the shoulder. As I groaned he ran. I
could see nothing in the darkness, but he went ahead, never stopping,
save for a moment, now and then, to rest I wondered where he was taking
me and what it all meant. I called again, 'Who are you?' but he seemed
not to hear me. 'My God!' I whispered to myself, 'this is no man--this
is Death severing the soul from the body. The voice was that of the good
God.' Then I heard a man hailing near by.

'Help, Help!' I shouted faintly.

'Where are you?' came the answer, now further away. 'Can't see you.'
My mysterious bearer was now running. My heels were dragging upon the
ground; my hands were brushing the grass tops. I groaned with pain.

'Halt! Who comes there?' a picket called. Then I could hear voices.

'Did you hear that noise?' said one. 'Somebody passed me. So dark can't
see my hand before me.

'Darker than hell!' said another voice.

It must be a giant, I thought, who can pick me up and carry me as if
I were no bigger than a house cat. That was what