sulphur.

First I choked up a little, then I coughed, then I stirred
uneasily, and then I looked out the window and prayed for the
daylight, and then I looked at my newspaper, but I couldn't read
it, because the railroad company had found the gas bill pretty
heavy last month and they were cutting down expenses.

Then I lost my breath, and when I got it back I found it wasn't
mine.

Then I began to fan myself with my hat, but I stopped when the man
behind me began to kick because I was handing him more than his
just share of the tunnel gas.

Then I began, to choke up again, and then I coughed, and then I
could feel something fat and mysterious playing hide and go seek
around my brain, but outside all was black as ink, and only from
the noise could I tell that the road was still paying dividends.

The air began to get close and thick like a porterhouse steak in a
St. Louis hotel.

I began to breathe like my wife crochets an open-faced
stocking--one, two, three, drop one; one, two, three, four, drop
one.

Then my blood began to curdle and cold chills ran up my back and
liked it so well they ran down again.