Meanwhile the battle continued on every hand with the same mad vehemence. Already the dead clogged the ground. Here, single combatants struggled--there, whole lines moved and swayed in deadly combat. Ever and anon new lines were formed, and strange hosts of friends or enemies came up, falling upon the combatants of both sides with murderous enthusiasm. McEwen, in a strange daze and lust of death, seemed to think nothing of it. He was alone now--lost in a tossing sea of war, and terror seemed to have forsaken him. It was wonderful, he thought, mysterious---- As enemy after enemy assailed him, he fought them as he best knew, an old method to him, apparently, and as they died, he wished them to die--broken, poisoned, sawed in two. He began to count and exult in the numbers he had slain. It was at last as though he were dreaming, and all around was a vain, dark, surging mass of enemies. Finally, four of the Sanguineæ seized upon him in a group, and he went down before them, almost helpless. Swiftly they tore at his head and body, endeavoring to dispose of him quickly. One seized a leg, another an antenna. A third jumped and sawed at his neck. Still he did not care. It was all war, and he would struggle to the last shred of his strength, eagerly, enthusiastically. At last he seemed to lose consciousness. When he opened his eyes again, Ermi was beside him. “Well?” said Ermi. “Well?” answered McEwen. “You were about done for, then.” “Was I?” he answered. “How are things going?” “I cannot tell yet,” said Ermi. “All I know is that you were faring badly when I came up. Two of them were dead, but the other two were killing you.” “You should have left me to them,” said McEwen, noticing now for the first time Ermi’s wounds. “It does not matter so much--one Lucidi more or less--what of it? But you have been injured.” “I--oh, nothing. You are the one to complain. I fear you are badly injured.” “Oh, I,” returned McEwen heavily, feeling at last the weight of death upon him, “I am done for. I cannot live. I felt myself dying some time ago.” He closed his eyes and trembled. In another moment---- * * * * * McEwen opened his eyes. Strangely enough he was looking out upon jingling carriages and loitering passersby in the great city park. It was all so strange, by comparison with that which he had so recently seen, the tall buildings in the distance, instead of the sword trees, the trees, the flowers. He jumped to his feet in astonishment, then sank back again in equal amaze, a passerby eyeing him curiously the while. “I have been asleep,” he said in a troubled way. “I have been dreaming. And what a dream!”