Overholt groaned and turned upon his side as his senses slowly came back and his agony tortured him to life again. Instantly the boy bent over him.
"Father! It's going! Wake up, father! The wheel's going round at last!"
IX
HOW THE KING OF HEARTS MADE A FEAST IN THE CITY OF HOPE
When Overholt understood what he heard, he opened his eyes and looked up into his son's face, moving his head mournfully from side to side as it lay on the boards. But suddenly he caught sight of the engine. He gasped for breath, his jaw dropped, and his eyes were starting from their sockets as he struggled to get up with the boy's help.
His voice came with a sort of rasping scream that did not sound human, and then broke into wild laughter, interrupted by broken words.
"Mad!" he cried. "I knew it—it had to come—my boy—help me to get away from that thing—I'm raving mad—I see it moving—"
"But it really is moving, father! Wake up! Look at it! The wheel is going round and round!"
Then Overholt was silent, sitting up on the floor and leaning against his arm. Slowly he realised that he was in his senses, and that the dream of long years had come true. Not a sound broke the stillness, so perfect was the machinery, except a kind of very soft hum made by the heavy fly-wheel revolving in the air.