Then I knew that he was dead and I alone.
Long after that in the far distance I heard a voice calling. It rang
like a trumpet in the still air. It grew plainer as I listened. My own
name! William Brower? It was certainly calling to me, and I
answered with a feeble cry. In a moment I could hear the tramp of
someone coming. He was sitting beside me presently, whoever it
might be. I could not see him for the dark. His tongue went
clucking as if he pitied me.
'Who are you?' I remember asking, but got no answer.
At first I was glad, then I began to feel a mighty horror of him.
In a moment he had picked me up and was making off. The jolt of
his step seemed to be breaking my arms at the shoulder. As I
groaned he ran. I could see nothing in the darkness, but he went
ahead, never stopping, save for a moment, now and then, to rest I
wondered where he was taking me and what it all meant. I called
again, 'Who are you?' but he seemed not to hear me. 'My God!'
I whispered to myself, 'this is no man - this is Death severing
the soul from the body.
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