As I lay prostrate on the floor of the chamber, there first came to my insensate soul a dim awareness of motion and sound—the tumultuous motion of my heart and, in my ears, the sound of its beating. Then a pause in which my mind reverted to blankness. Then again sound, and motion, and touch—a tingling sensation, pervading my frame. Then the mere consciousness of existence, without thought Then thought—and a shuddering recollection of the horrors I had so recently endured. Then a lapse into insensibility. Then a rushing revival of soul and, with it, a sudden awareness that I was not alone in the room!

My eyes fluttered open and, as my clouded vision began to clear, I discerned a shadowy countenance hovering directly above my own. At that instant, a familiar voice—whose stentorious tone had never before sounded so welcome to my ears—boomed out:

“Over here, Cap’n! He’s stirrin’ at last!”

I blinked my eyes several times, until my ocular faculty had regained its former clarity and focus, and found myself staring up into the visage of Colonel Crockett, who was regarding me with an expression in which concern and relief appeared equally commingled.

“By jings, Poe,” he declared. “I was commencin’ to fear that you warn’t never going to come ’round.”

At that instant, Captain Russell bustled over and, stooping beside me, exclaimed: “I am exceedingly glad to see you awake, Mr. Poe.”

With a groan of exertion, I elevated the upper portion of my torso and, supporting myself on my elbows, gazed around. A trio of policemen, among whom I recognized Officer Carlton, were conversing together in hushed, solemn tones as they huddled around the opening in the floor, which appeared to have been enlarged by the removal of several additional planks.

“Are you able to stand?” inquired Captain Russell.

“I believe so,” I responded, rising first to my knees and then—somewhat unsteadily—to my feet.

“Here,” said the frontiersman, clasping me by one arm. “Lemme give you a hand, ol’ hoss.”

Standing erect, I suddenly became aware of an acute, throbbing ache, originating at the rear of my cranium. Reaching one hand behind my head, I felt a small but decidedly protuberant lump of such exquisite tenderness that, at the merest touch of my fingertips, a searing shaft of pain—like a flaming arrow propelled from the bow of an Apache warrior—shot through my head, causing me to wince in agony.

“You are looking a mite poorly, Poe,” said Crockett.

“I appear to have struck the back of my head against the floor, thus inducing a swollen knot, or edema, of considerable sensitivity.”

“Them goose-eggs’ll smart like the dickens, all right,” commiserated the frontiersman. “But what in blue blazes happened, Poe? Last time we saw you, you were shovin’ off for home.”

“Yes,” added Captain Russell, “I have been wondering the same.”