The sun was making the tent very warm. Many sounds came from outside. What caused the sounds I did not know. I was near enough to the railroad to hear the cars, but I knew the sounds were not from cars. I could hear shouting, as if of wagoners. All at once, I heard thunder--no; it could not be thunder; the sun was shining. Yet, it might be thunder; a storm might be coming. I wished that I was back in the hotel. I was sick, and it would not do for me to get wet; this wagoner's tent was not the place for a sick man in a storm. But ... was there a hotel? The hotel was a dream--this was the reality. I know nothing. The doctor came. He looked at me, and smiled. I tried to smile in return, for I liked him. "That's right," he said. The doctor knelt by the pallet next to mine--that of the man who had groaned. The man was not groaning now. The doctor rose. I could see the sick man's face--white. The doctor drew the sheet over the man's white face. The doctor went out of the tent. A cold sweat was on me. Some men came in--four men. Each man took the pallet by a corner. They took the pallet out of the tent. They did not come back. Again I heard thunder. The sun was still shining. The heat was great--great enough, I thought, to bring a storm even in October. I had never before known it so warm. Why should so many wagoners be sick at once? And why should I be with them? I began to fear that I had been sick for a great many days; I thought that I had been unconscious. The doctor came in. A man was with him. The man had a book in his hand--a book and a pencil. Now I could see some gilt badges on the doctor's collar. On his arms were some gilt stripes--and gilt stripes on the arms of the other man also. These men must be officers, I thought, perhaps officers of the Citadel battalion[5]. I wondered what I should be doing in their world. Then again came the thought that I had been unconscious, and for how long I did not know. [5] "The Citadel" is the Military Academy of South Carolina in Charleston. [ED.] But, no; it can be nothing else than a dream! The man with the book wrote something in it. Then he showed the book to the doctor, and gave him the pencil. The doctor wrote in the book, and gave the pencil and the book back to the man. The man with the book went out of the tent. The doctor came to me. He raised his right hand as high as his shoulder. The first finger and the middle finger were stretched out; the other fingers were closed. He was smiling. I looked at his hand and at his face, and wondered. He said, "Look! How many?" I said, "Two." He laughed aloud. "I thought so; we're getting on--we're doing famously." He sat down by me, on some sort of a stool--one of those folding stools. He began to dress my head. "Your name is Jones?" he asked. "Yes," I replied, wondering, yet pleased with the sign of good-will shown by his calling me by my first name. "What edge are you?" I was silent. I did not understand the question.