Rudyard Kipling 169 as he hurried into the bedroom and found Dick sitting up and beating the air with his hands. “Torp! Torp! where are you? For pity’s sake, come to me!” “What’s the matter?” Dick clutched at his shoulder. “Matter! I’ve been lying here for hours in the dark, and you never heard me. Torp, old man, don’t go away. I’m all in the dark. In the dark, I tell you!” Torpenhow held the candle within a foot of Dick’s eyes, but there was no light in those eyes. He lit the gas, and Dick heard the flame catch. The grip of his fingers on Jorpenhow’s shoulder made Torpenhow wince. “Don’t leave me. You wouldn’t leave me alone now, would you? I can’t see. D’you understand? It’s black, — quite black, — and I feel as if I was falling through itrall;” “Steady does it.” Torpenhow put his arm round Dick and began to rock him gently to and fro. “That’s good. Now don’t talk. If I keep very quiet for a while, this darkness will lift. It seems just on the point of breaking. H’sh!” Dick knit his brows and stared desperately in front of him. The night air was chilling Torpenhow’s toes. “Can you stay like that a minute?” he said. “I'll get my dressing-gown and some slippers.” Dick clutched the bed-head with both hands and waited for the darkness to clear away. “What a time you've been!” he cried, when Torpenhow returned. “It’s as black as ever. What are you banging about in the door-way?” “Long chair, — horse-blanket, — pillow. Going to sleep by you. Lie down now; you'll be better in the morning.” “T shan’t!” The voice rose to a wail. “My God! I’m