In all my experiences in out-of-the-way, God-forsaken places, I have never known fear. I have been shot at by Mexicans, held up by thugs, even bitten by a rattlesnake--but nothing has ever made me afraid. Not even intense shell fire on the Western Front, where I had served the last month of the war as an infantry captain in the 8th Division, ever made me aware of danger. I was cited once by the French government for bravery, but I take no credit for that. It is simply my make-up--I have no “nerves.” But now--this inexplicable rock appearing from nowhere--the very obvious fear it instilled in the horses-- My first impulse was to waken Olin and tell him of this startling phenomenon. The remote possibility that I might be mistaken, and had for some reason failed to notice this rock, due to my absorption in my note making, deterred me. How Olin would laugh at me if I roused him because of some foolish fancy about an innocent boulder that had been there all the time. He would never get done guying the life out of me. But I was positive that it had not been there when we made camp. I was debating whether to investigate the rock and prove once for all there was no cause for alarm, or arouse Olin and get his opinion, when the rock was suddenly thrown back and I could see that it was only a hollow camouflage over a hole in the ground. Before I could cry out, I was seized from behind and strong hands had placed a gag in my mouth and a bandage over my eyes. I attempted to struggle, but my efforts were useless. It was as though my arms and legs were held in a powerful vise. Something sweetish that may have been chloroform was held over my nose, and before I lost consciousness I heard the squeal of a horse and the pounding of his hoofs as he broke from his tether and ran. There was no sound of any kind from my captors. I was dimly aware of being carried in powerful arms and laid upon some smooth surface that seemed to sink beneath me as darkness pressed upon me and I knew no more.