Page:Frank Owen - Rare Earth, 1931.djvu/101

 "I merely grow conscious of the moving world about me of which I have ceased to be a part. I live in perpetual sleep."

"How do you feel?" asked Hung Long Tom.

"Pretty fair," was the reply. "Of course you would be with me. I can never be lost with you about. If I did not hear your voice I would be in a quaint dilemma. Have I been sleeping in the field all night? I remember coming out"

"Yes," replied Hung Long Tom, "you have but after all what does it matter? There is no sweeter place to sleep than in the open on a mild night."

Scobee drew his hand wearily across his eyes. "I had to come outdoors," he said. "My head was bursting. I was stifling. What is there to live for? The future is barren, bleak. Better to have remained in France than this."

Hung Long Tom gravely shook his head despite the fact that Scobee could not see him.

"No," he declared, "there is still much of life before you."