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 right,” he said.

The doctor knelt by the pallet next to mine—­that of the man who had groaned.  The man was not groaning now.

The doctor rose.  I could see the sick mart’s face—­white.  The doctor drew the sheet over the man’s white face.  The doctor went out of the tent.  A cold sweat was on me.

Some men came in—­four men.  Each man took the pallet by a corner.  They took the pallet out of the tent.  They did not come back.

Again I heard thunder.  The sun was still shining.  The heat was great—­great enough, I thought, to bring a storm even in October.  I had never before known it so warm.

Why should so many wagoners be sick at once?  And why should I be with them?  I began to fear that I had been sick for a great many days; I thought that I had been unconscious.