By Dick’s direction they carried Earle’s body to the camp, and, stripping it, laid it upon one of the camp beds already arranged in the tent. This done, Dick carefully examined the inanimate form in search of wounds or other injuries, but found nothing. The heart was beating strongly and steadily, the pulse was firm, though a trifle rapid, and the breathing was somewhat irregular; otherwise Earle’s aspect was that of a man plunged in profound sleep. So completely, indeed, was this the case that after Dick had ineffectually striven by every means in his power to arouse his friend, he was fain to leave him as he was, contenting himself by remaining by the side of the bed, keeping his fingers on Earle’s pulse so that he might at once become aware of any fluctuations in its beat, and awaiting the moment when a change of some sort should occur.
Hour after hour dragged its slow length along and still the American lay plunged deep in that strange slumber, the only changes in his condition being that from time to time his pulse and his heart quickened their beats and his breath came more heavily, as though the sleeper laboured under some strong excitement; until at length, about eleven o’clock, when the camp was wrapped in silence and all its members, except Dick, fast asleep, Earle suddenly opened his eyes and stared first at the lantern and then at Dick, with a puzzled and distinctly annoyed expression. At length he exclaimed:
“Hello, Dick! What the mischief are you sitting there for, looking as glum as an owl? And why on earth did you wake me? Man alive, I—”
“I didn’t wake you,” answered Dick, “but, all the same, I am profoundly thankful to see you awake once more, and apparently in the possession of all your senses. Do you remember what happened to you?”
“You bet I do!” answered Earle emphatically. “Shall I ever forget it? Why, man, I’ve been in Elysium. I’ve been—oh! dash it all, there are no words to describe the delights of the last few— Say! how long have I been asleep?”
Dick looked at his watch. “Getting well on for eight hours,” he answered.
“Eight hours!” reiterated Earle, in tones of intense disgust. “Only eight hours, did you say? Why, man alive, if what you say be true, in those measly eight hours I have lived years of joy and delight unspeakable. I have beheld scenes of unearthly indescribable beauty; I have participated in pageants glorious and magnificent beyond conception; I have—oh! what’s the use? If I were to talk from now until doomsday I couldn’t even begin to convey to your gross mind the most feeble and shadowy notion of the joys and delights which have been mine.”
He spoke rapidly in tones of feverish excitement, and his eyes were almost as luminous as those of King Cole, who sat up on his haunches, alert and quivering, on the other side of the pallet.
“Look here, old chap,” said Dick anxiously, “easy on. Don’t get excited, whatever you do. Your adventure of this afternoon has given you a rather bad shaking up. You’ve had a pretty severe shock, both mental and physical, if I’m any judge, and it looks to me very much as though you are going to be ill. Better let me mix you a soothing draught, hadn’t you? Just tell me what ingredients to take, and how much of each, and I’ll mix them in a brace of shakes—”
But by the time that Dick got thus far, Earle had begun to talk again, loudly and excitedly, and was sitting up on the pallet, waving his arms wildly. And when Dick attempted to force him back into a reclining position the American suddenly developed a kind of frenzy, seizing Cavendish by the throat and doing his utmost to throttle him, while King Cole, sorely puzzled at such extraordinary behaviour on the part of his two especial friends, snarled angrily and bolted out of the tent into the velvety star-lit darkness.