Page 95 (1/2)

Although he had retired so early, and in so exhausted a condition,

Bennington de Laney could not sleep He had taken a slight fever, and

the wound in his shoulder was stiff and painful For hours on end he

lay flat on his back, staring at the di to the faint out-of-door noises or the sharper borings of

insects in the logs of the structure His mind was not active He lay

in a semi-torpor, whose most vivid consciousness was that of mental

discomfort and the interminability of time

The events of the day rose up before him, but he seemed to loathe them

merely because they had been of so active a character, and now he could

not bear to have his brain teased even with their ih, this altitude seemed to create a certain dead

polarity between him and them They lay sullenly outside his brain,

repelled by this dead polarity, and he looked at theainst the dim illumination of the ith a dull joy that they

could not cohts All this

was the fever

In a little time these events became endoith more palpable bodies

which