But Mr. Ticks walked on slowly, unconsciously, as if in a revery. He put his hands out as if to feel the air. He put his tongue out as if to taste it. He had not gone forty feet when he was observed to tremble violently. Those on the dead line united with Swift in shrieking "Come back!" The experimenting member of the _Planet_ staff only shook his head. He was not twenty yards away when he stopped abruptly. He put his hands to his head and heart, and struggled against the unseen force. It beat upon him: but he steadied his legs the firmer and met the shock. It smote at him, but he wearily smiled in return. He even made a motion as if for his notebook. But such temerity was too much for the occult fluid to suffer. It breathed upon him and felled him to the ground. As he dropped he rested for a moment spasmodically upon one knee, and peered into the air as if he were penetrating the secret of this baleful agent. Then he fell back insensible. Half an hour afterwards the newspaper man came to. Swift was bending over him. "We rushed you out. You'll pull through all right, old man," said his colleague cheerily. "Did you note the symptoms?" asked Mr. Ticks feebly. "Yes." "Did you wire them?" "No; I hadn't time. I----" "Then do so!" He sank back exhausted. "But how did you feel? How _do_ you feel?" asked Swift anxiously. "As mortal never felt before," replied Mr. Ticks solemnly. With these words upon his lips he lapsed away again into unconsciousness. That evening at a late hour Swift made his way to the four-hundred-dollar team under whose protecting shelter he had ensconced his patient with such poor comfort as was possible. Mr. Ticks raised himself from the cushions upon one arm. "Are you ready?" he said restlessly. "For what?" asked Swift in astonishment. "To start." "Not to-night surely?" "Yes--immediately. Harness up! We must be at the extreme north of this unclassified belt by to-morrow morning." IV. Empiria, the new county seat of the new county Dominion of the new State of Harrison, was twenty miles away to the northward as the crow flies, and at least thirty miles off by road. The horse that Mr. Ticks had the forethought to purchase developed an unaccountable spavin, united with an unmistakable case of the heaves: when the whip was applied it furthermore exhibited an innate tendency to back. Mr. Swift drove through the darkness of the night, picking out the road with that genius for locality which the general and the reporter in the field share alike. Barring mistakes, accidents, or further exhibitions of depravity on the part of the equine department, they hoped to reach Empiria by dawn.