My head began to throb. I heard heavy breathing. I tried to remember how I had been brought to this place. It seemed like the place of ... had I dreamed? Yes, I had dreamed that I had drunk much water; my throat was parched. A face bent over me. It was a man's face. I had seen it in my dream ... then I was not yet awake? I was still dreaming? Or, if I was awake, maybe I had not dreamed? Can this man and these men and this tent and this pain all be real? No; certainly not. When I awake I shall laugh at this dream; I shall write it out, because it is so complex and strange. The man, said, "You feel better now, don't you?" I tried to reply. I could not speak, though my lips moved. The man brought water, and I drank. He sat by me, and put his fingers on my wrist. "You'll be all right in a day or two," he said. I hoped that his words would come true; then I wondered how, in, a dream, I could hope for a dream to end. He went away. I tried hard to think, but the effort increased the pain in my head. I felt cramped, as though I had lain long in one posture. I tried to turn, but was able only to stretch my legs and arms. The man came again. He looked at me; then, he knelt down and raised my head. I felt better. He pulled something behind me, and then went away, leaving me propped up. Daylight was coming. The light of the candle contrasted but feebly against the new light. I could see the pallets. On each was a man. There were five. I counted,--one, two, three, four, five; five sick men. I wondered if they were dreaming also, and if they were all sick in the head ... no; no; such fantasy shows but more strongly that all this horrible thing is unreal. I counted again,--one, two, three, four, five, _six_; how is that? Oh, I see; I have counted myself, this time. Myself? What part or lot have I with these others? Who are they? Who am I? I know nothing--nothing. The man stood over me. I knew that he was a doctor. He said, "Are you easier?" I could not reply. He went away. I closed my eyes, and again tried to think; again the effort brought increased pain. I could hear a whirring noise in my ears. I tried to sleep. I tried to quit thinking. When I opened my eyes, the sun was shining. One side of the tent was very bright. A negro man came. I remembered that his name was William. He brought a basin of water and a towel and sponge. He sponged my face and hands, and dried them with the towel. Then he said, "Can you eat some breakfast?" I could not reply. The men on the pallets--five--were awake. They said nothing. The doctor was kneeling by one of the pallets--the one next to me. The man on the pallet groaned. The doctor said something to him. I could not tell what the doctor said. The man groaned. Another man, propped up on his pallet, was eating. I began to feel hungry. William brought a cup of tea, with a piece of biscuit floating in it. He raised my head and put the cup to my lips. I drank. William went away.