ticked loudly. The boy listened to it, and began mechanically to count.
Tick--tick--one, two, three, four! He lost count presently, and only
listened. Tick--tick--tick--tick!

It never waited; it went on inexorably; and every time it ticked a man
died! He raised himself a little on his elbow and listened. He wished it
would leave off.

How many times had it ticked since he came to lie down? A thousand times,
a million times, perhaps.

He tried to count again, and sat up to listen better.

"Dying, dying, dying!" said the watch; "dying, dying, dying!"

He heard it distinctly. Where were they going to, all those people?

He lay down quickly, and pulled the cover up over his head: but presently
the silky curls reappeared.

"Dying, dying, dying!" said the watch; "dying, dying, dying!"

He thought of the words his father had read that evening--"For wide is the
gate, and broad is the way, that leadeth to destruction and many there be
which go in thereat."

"Many, many, many!" said the watch.

"Because strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, that leadeth unto life,
and few there be that find it."