How hot it was! Surely it must be going to
thunder; the air was so close and oppressive. He
moved restlessly on the pallet and put the bandaged
right hand behind his head for a pillow;
then drew it away again. How it burned and
throbbed! And all the old wounds were beginning
to ache, with a dull, faint persistence. What
was the matter with them? Oh, absurd! It was
only the thundery weather. He would go to
sleep and get a little rest before beginning his
filing.
Eight bars, and all so thick and strong! How
many more were there left to file? Surely not
many. He must have been filing for hours,--
interminable hours--yes, of course, that was what
made his arm ache---- And how it ached; right
through to the very bone! But it could hardly be
the filing that made his side ache so; and the
throbbing, burning pain in the lame leg--was
that from filing?
He started up. No, he had not been asleep; he
had been dreaming with open eyes--dreaming of
filing, and it was all still to do.
Pages:
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444