Chaka shook his head. “The Tcha queer people. It is not easy to understand them,” he said.
A fragrance, as of some delightful perfume, was now wafted to our nostrils from some hidden source. We all noticed this, but no one made any remark at first. The perfume grew stronger, presently, and more pungent. I was sitting on a couch and threw myself back against the cushions, feeling drowsy and inert. My eyes closed; I felt a delicious sense of oblivion stealing over me. Somewhere out of space I heard Paul’s voice saying:
“Resist it! resist this fatal essence, or we are lost!”
I had no especial desire to resist anything. Just then I felt entirely comfortable and contented. Dreams were coming to me; dreams rose-colored and sweet. I wandered in cool forests, picking brilliant wild flowers and listening to the songs of birds. The songsters were Birds of Paradise, superbly plumed, and they sat on the branches of trees and talked, as well as sang, telling me pretty fables. Other delights I enjoyed, wading in a clear brook and catching fishes in a straw hat, as I once did as a small boy. Then I leaped upon a green bank and raced up and down in thoughtless glee.
Some one caught me and began shaking me with no gentle hand.
“Sam! Sam, my lad! Wake up—wake up!”
In much disgust at being disturbed I opened my eyes. Sunshine again in the room. The shutter had been removed from the window. Joe was bending anxiously over me, while black Nux fanned me gently.
The dream dissolved. I sat up, quickly recovering my wits.
All but Nux and Joe were still asleep under the influence of the powerful narcotic which had filled the room. I ran to Paul and began to shake and fan him. Joe tackled Archie and Nux tried to restore Chaka. Bry came to unassisted and presently joined us.
Five minutes later we had all recovered and sat staring at one another in bewilderment. There was no trace of headache or other bodily ill-effect from our enforced loss of consciousness; but a far greater misfortune had overtaken us.