The spruce boughs moaned and twisted overhead,
and a volley of wind and snow shot suddenly down the chimney, forcing
open the stove door, so that a shaft of ruddy light cut like a red knife
through the dense gloom of the cabin. In varying ways the sounds played a
part in Billy's dreams. In all those dreams, and segments of dreams, the
girl--his wife--was present. Once they had gone for wild flowers and had
been caught in a thunderstorm, and had run to an old and disused barn in
the middle of a field for shelter. He was back in that barn again, with
HER--and he could feel her trembling against him, and he was stroking her
hair, as the thunder crashed over them and the lightning filled her eyes
with fear. After that there came to him a vision of the early autumn
nights when they had gone corn roasting, with other young people. He had
always been afflicted with a slight nasal trouble, and smoke irritated
him. It set him sneezing, and kept him dodging about the fire, and she
had always laughed when the smoke persisted in following him about, like
a young scamp of a boy bent on tormenting him. The smoke was unusually
persistent to-night. He tossed in his bunk, and buried his face in the
blanket that answered for a pillow. The smoke reached him even there, and
he sneezed chokingly. In that instant the girl's face disappeared. He
sneezed again--and awoke.
A startled gasp broke from his lips, and the handcuffs about his wrists
clanked as he raised his hands to his face.
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