I closed my eyes, and again tried to think; again the effort brought
increased pain. I could hear a whirring noise in my ears. I tried to
sleep. I tried to quit thinking.
When I opened my eyes, the sun was shining. One side of the tent was
very bright.
A negro man came. I remembered that his name was William. He brought a
basin of water and a towel and sponge. He sponged my face and hands, and
dried them with the towel. Then he said, "Can you eat some breakfast?" I
could not reply.
The men on the pallets--five--were awake. They said nothing. The doctor
was kneeling by one of the pallets--the one next to me. The man on the
pallet groaned. The doctor said something to him. I could not tell what
the doctor said. The man groaned.
Another man, propped up on his pallet, was eating. I began to feel
hungry.
William brought a cup of tea, with a piece of biscuit floating in it.
He raised my head and put the cup to my lips. I drank. William
went away.
The sun was making the tent very warm. Many sounds came from outside.
What caused the sounds I did not know. I was near enough to the railroad
to hear the cars, but I knew the sounds were not from cars. I could hear
shouting, as if of wagoners.
All at once, I heard thunder--no; it could not be thunder; the sun was
shining. Yet, it might be thunder; a storm might be coming.
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.
[5] "The Citadel" is the Military Academy of South Carolina in
Charleston. [ED.]
But, no; it can be nothing else than a dream!
The man with the book wrote something in it. Then he showed the book to
the doctor, and gave him the pencil. The doctor wrote in the book, and
gave the pencil and the book back to the man. The man with the book went
out of the tent.
The doctor came to me. He raised his right hand as high as his shoulder.
The first finger and the middle finger were stretched out; the other
fingers were closed. He was smiling. I looked at his hand and at his
face, and wondered.