boxwood plants, swaying in the wind, and the chimneys and the
tent. And then--a dark figure disentangled itself from the
nearest chimney and seemed to hurl itself at me. I remember
putting out my hands and trying to say something, but the figure
caught me roughly by the shoulders and knocked me back against
the door frame. From miles away a heavy voice was saying, "So
I've got you!" and then the roof gave from under me, and I was
floating out on the storm, and sleet was beating in my face, and
the wind was whispering over and over, "Open your eyes, for God's
sake!"

I did open them after a while, and finally I made out that I was
laying on the floor in the tent. The lights were on, and I had a
cold and damp feeling, and something wet was trickling down my
neck.

I seemed to be alone, but in a second somebody came into the
tent, and I saw it was Mr. Harbison, and that he had a double
handful of half-melted snow. He looked frantic and determined,
and only my sitting up quickly prevented my getting another snow
bath. My neck felt queer and stiff, and I was very dizzy. When he
saw that I was conscious he dropped the snow and stood looking
down at me.

"Do you know," he said grimly, "that I very nearly choked you to
death a little while ago?"

"It wouldn't surprise me to be told so," I said. "Do I know too
much, or what is it, Mr. Harbison?" I felt terribly ill, but I
would not let him see it. "It is queer, isn't it--how we always