I fancied myself in a future world, battling with some fearful demon.
No; those forms I see around me are of the earth. I still live!
My wounds pain me. Some one is binding them up. His hand is rude; but
the tender expression of his eye tells me that his heart is kind. Who
is he? Whence came he?
I am still upon the wide prairie; I see that clearly enough. Where is
my terrible antagonist? I remember our fierce fight--everything that
occurred; but--_I thought he had killed me_!