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 man'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.
The doctor came in. A man was with him. The man had a book in his hand--a book and a pencil.
Now I could see some gilt badges on the doctor's collar. On his arms were some gilt stripes--and gilt stripes on the arms of the other man also. These men must be officers, I thought, perhaps officers of the Citadel battalion[5]. I wondered what I should be doing in their world. Then again came the thought that I had been unconscious, and for how long I did not know.