ip of a cracked and drying hoof. Most of us have seen such a horse,
seemingly on the gradual slip into oblivion, whose very tail-switching
was so rhythmic and regular as to fit in, in absolute harmony, with
the swelling waves of sleep and measured breathing and all that sort
of thing. And that very horse might well be on the brink of a day's
exhausting labour. And furthermore he might well know it. Certainly
his experience might tell him--easily enough. Yet he stands there
switching in a sort of self-imposed numbness. It is probably nature's
way of anaesthetizing him from the pain of unlimited drabness. It is
the only way a sensitive nature can face such a prospect without going
mad. Such was Joe.

He had slumped. He no longer cared. He no longer cared if skies were
blue and if breezes were lazy and outdoors was calling. He no longer
cared when the quitting whistle blew. He no longer cared that June was
only two weeks off. He would not even have cared if June had been the
end of it all. He had settled into his stupor.

And then one morning at about eleven o'clock he was summoned to the
telephone by the switchboard operator. It was a drowsy morning, full
of dronings and rustlings, and he was very heavy lidded as he stepped
into the booth reserved for such calls. He had been expecting a
message from Indianapolis about some shipment that had gone astray and
for which he was putting in a claim. He sank heavily down upon the
hard, polished little stool. The air was stuffy and foul about him.

"This Mr. Hooper?" he heard a voice say.

He said it was.

"Well, this is----" He had not the slightest idea what the name was.
But it made not the slightest difference. It might have been the
president or it might have been the shipping clerk. All that mattered
was that it was a tiresome sack of castings giving him some extra
trouble. And so he stretched a little and yawned a little and replied:
"Yes. All right."

And then the voice went on a little hurriedly--too hurriedly for him
to catch it all. And instead of "sack of castings," the voice kept on
crazily alluding to "your uncle" and "all night"--and phrases that
were jumbled as in a dream. He came to himself suddenly with a start
and then the connection was broken off and there was nothing but a
confused buzzing and rattling. He straightened up on the stool, waited
a minute, and then jiggled the receiver. He felt very queer. He felt
to blame for his stupidness. He felt somew