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    Chapter 13

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    Chapter 13
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    CHAPTER XIII [My Long Crawl in the Dark]

    When we got back to the hotel I wound and set the pedometer and put
    it in my pocket, for I was to carry it next day and keep record of the
    miles we made. The work which we had given the instrument to do during
    the day which had just closed had not fatigued it perceptibly.

    We were in bed by ten, for we wanted to be up and away on our tramp
    homeward with the dawn. I hung fire, but Harris went to sleep at once.
    I hate a man who goes to sleep at once; there is a sort of indefinable
    something about it which is not exactly an insult, and yet is an
    insolence; and one which is hard to bear, too. I lay there fretting
    over this injury, and trying to go to sleep; but the harder I tried, the
    wider awake I grew. I got to feeling very lonely in the dark, with no
    company but an undigested dinner. My mind got a start by and by, and
    began to consider the beginning of every subject which has ever been
    thought of; but it never went further than the beginning; it was touch
    and go; it fled from topic to topic with a frantic speed. At the end of
    an hour my head was in a perfect whirl and I was dead tired, fagged out.

    The fatigue was so great that it presently began to make some head
    against the nervous excitement; while imagining myself wide awake, I
    would really doze into momentary unconsciousness, and come suddenly out
    of it with a physical jerk which nearly wrenched my joints apart--the
    delusion of the instant being that I was tumbling backward over a
    precipice. After I had fallen over eight or nine precipices and thus
    found out that one half of my brain had been asleep eight or nine times
    without the wide-awake, hard-working other half suspecting it, the
    periodical unconsciousnesses began to extend their spell gradually over
    more of my brain-territory, and at last I sank into a drowse which grew
    deeper and deeper and was doubtless just on the very point of being a
    solid, blessed dreamless stupor, when--what was that?

    My dulled faculties dragged themselves partly back to life and took a
    receptive attitude. Now out of an immense, a limitless distance, came
    a something which grew and grew, and approached, and presently was
    recognizable as a sound--it had rather seemed to be a feeling, before.
    This sound was a mile away, now--perhaps it was the murmur of a storm;
    and now it was nearer--not a quarter of a mile away; was it the muffled
    rasping and grinding of distant machinery? No, it came still nearer; was
    it the measured tramp of a marching troop? But it came nearer still,
    and still nearer--and at last it was right in the room: it was merely
    a mouse gnawing the woodwork. So I had held my breath all that time for
    such a trifle.

    Well, what was done could not be helped; I would go to sleep at once and
    make up the lost time. That was a thoughtless thought. Without intending
    it--hardly knowing it--I fell to listening intently to that sound, and
    even unconsciously counting the strokes of the mouse's nutmeg-grater.
    Presently I was deriving exquisite suffering from this employment, yet
    maybe I could have endured it if the mouse had attended steadily to
    his work; but he did not do that; he stopped every now and then, and I
    suffered more while waiting and listening for him to begin again than
    I did while he was gnawing. Along at first I was mentally offering a
    reward of five--six--seven--ten--dollars for that mouse; but toward
    the last I was offering rewards which were entirely beyond my means. I
    close-reefed my ears--that is to say, I bent the flaps of them down
    and furled them into five or six folds, and pressed them against the
    hearing-orifice--but it did no good: the faculty was so sharpened
    by nervous excitement that it was become a microphone and could hear
    through the overlays without trouble.

    My anger grew to a frenzy. I finally did what all persons before me have
    done, clear back to Adam,--resolved to throw something. I reached down
    and got my walking-shoes, then sat up in bed and listened, in order to
    exactly locate the noise. But I couldn't do it; it was as unlocatable as
    a cricket's noise; and where one thinks that that is, is always the very
    place where it isn't. So I presently hurled a shoe at random, and with
    a vicious vigor. It struck the wall over Harris's head and fell down on
    him; I had not imagined I could throw so far. It woke Harris, and I was
    glad of it until I found he was not angry; then I was sorry. He soon
    went to sleep again, which pleased me; but straightway the mouse began
    again, which roused my temper once more. I did not want to wake Harris
    a second time, but the gnawing continued until I was compelled to
    throw the other shoe. This time I broke a mirror--there were two in the
    room--I got the largest one, of course. Harris woke again, but did not
    complain, and I was sorrier than ever. I resolved that I would suffer
    all possible torture before I would disturb him a third time.

    The mouse eventually retired, and by and by I was sinking to sleep, when
    a clock began to strike; I counted till it was done, and was about to
    drowse again when another clock began; I counted; then the two great
    RATHHAUS clock angels began to send forth soft, rich, melodious blasts
    from their long trumpets. I had never heard anything that was so lovely,
    or weird, or mysterious--but when they got to blowing the quarter-hours,
    they seemed to me to be overdoing the thing. Every time I dropped
    off for the moment, a new noise woke me. Each time I woke I missed my
    coverlet, and had to reach down to the floor and get it again.

    At last all sleepiness forsook me. I recognized the fact that I was
    hopelessly and permanently wide awake. Wide awake, and feverish and
    thirsty. When I had lain tossing there as long as I could endure it, it
    occurred to me that it would be a good idea to dress and go out in the
    great square and take a refreshing wash in the fountain, and smoke and
    reflect there until the remnant of the night was gone.

    I believed I could dress in the dark without waking Harris. I had
    banished my shoes after the mouse, but my slippers would do for a summer
    night. So I rose softly, and gradually got on everything--down to one
    sock. I couldn't seem to get on the track of that sock, any way I could
    fix it. But I had to have it; so I went down on my hands and knees, with
    one slipper on and the other in my hand, and began to paw gently around
    and rake the floor, but with no success. I enlarged my circle, and went
    on pawing and raking. With every pressure of my knee, how the floor
    creaked! and every time I chanced to rake against any article, it seemed
    to give out thirty-five or thirty-six times more noise than it would
    have done in the daytime. In those cases I always stopped and held
    my breath till I was sure Harris had not awakened--then I crept along
    again. I moved on and on, but I could not find the sock; I could not
    seem to find anything but furniture. I could not remember that there was
    much furniture in the room when I went to bed, but the place was alive
    with it now--especially chairs--chairs everywhere--had a couple of
    families moved in, in the mean time? And I never could seem to GLANCE on
    one of those chairs, but always struck it full and square with my head.
    My temper rose, by steady and sure degrees, and as I pawed on and on, I
    fell to making vicious comments under my breath.

    Finally, with a venomous access of irritation, I said I would leave
    without the sock; so I rose up and made straight for the door--as I
    supposed--and suddenly confronted my dim spectral image in the unbroken
    mirror. It startled the breath out of me, for an instant; it also showed
    me that I was lost, and had no sort of idea where I was. When I realized
    this, I was so angry that I had to sit down on the floor and take hold
    of something to keep from lifting the roof off with an explosion of
    opinion. If there had been only one mirror, it might possibly have
    helped to locate me; but there were two, and two were as bad as a
    thousand; besides, these were on opposite sides of the room. I could see
    the dim blur of the windows, but in my turned-around condition they were
    exactly where they ought not to be, and so they only confused me instead
    of helping me.

    I started to get up, and knocked down an umbrella; it made a noise
    like a pistol-shot when it struck that hard, slick, carpetless floor;
    I grated my teeth and held my breath--Harris did not stir. I set the
    umbrella slowly and carefully on end against the wall, but as soon as
    I took my hand away, its heel slipped from under it, and down it came
    again with another bang. I shrunk together and listened a moment in
    silent fury--no harm done, everything quiet. With the most painstaking
    care and nicety, I stood the umbrella up once more, took my hand away,
    and down it came again.

    I have been strictly reared, but if it had not been so dark and solemn
    and awful there in that lonely, vast room, I do believe I should have
    said something then which could not be put into a Sunday-school book
    without injuring the sale of it. If my reasoning powers had not been
    already sapped dry by my harassments, I would have known better than to
    try to set an umbrella on end on one of those glassy German floors in
    the dark; it can't be done in the daytime without four failures to one
    success. I had one comfort, though--Harris was yet still and silent--he
    had not stirred.

    The umbrella could not locate me--there were four standing around the
    room, and all alike. I thought I would feel along the wall and find the
    door in that way. I rose up and began this operation, but raked down
    a picture. It was not a large one, but it made noise enough for a
    panorama. Harris gave out no sound, but I felt that if I experimented
    any further with the pictures I should be sure to wake him. Better give
    up trying to get out. Yes, I would find King Arthur's Round Table once
    more--I had already found it several times--and use it for a base of
    departure on an exploring tour for my bed; if I could find my bed I
    could then find my water pitcher; I would quench my raging thirst and
    turn in. So I started on my hands and knees, because I could go faster
    that way, and with more confidence, too, and not knock down things. By
    and by I found the table--with my head--rubbed the bruise a little, then
    rose up and started, with hands abroad and fingers spread, to balance
    myself. I found a chair; then a wall; then another chair; then a sofa;
    then an alpenstock, then another sofa; this confounded me, for I had
    thought there was only one sofa. I hunted up the table again and took a
    fresh start; found some more chairs.

    It occurred to me, now, as it ought to have done before, that as the
    table was round, it was therefore of no value as a base to aim from; so
    I moved off once more, and at random among the wilderness of chairs and
    sofas--wandering off into unfamiliar regions, and presently knocked a
    candlestick and knocked off a lamp, grabbed at the lamp and knocked
    off a water pitcher with a rattling crash, and thought to myself,
    "I've found you at last--I judged I was close upon you." Harris shouted
    "murder," and "thieves," and finished with "I'm absolutely drowned."

    The crash had roused the house. Mr. X pranced in, in his long
    night-garment, with a candle, young Z after him with another candle; a
    procession swept in at another door, with candles and lanterns--landlord
    and two German guests in their nightgowns and a chambermaid in hers.

    I looked around; I was at Harris's bed, a Sabbath-day's journey from my
    own. There was only one sofa; it was against the wall; there was only
    one chair where a body could get at it--I had been revolving around it
    like a planet, and colliding with it like a comet half the night.

    I explained how I had been employing myself, and why. Then the
    landlord's party left, and the rest of us set about our preparations for
    breakfast, for the dawn was ready to break. I glanced furtively at my
    pedometer, and found I had made 47 miles. But I did not care, for I had
    come out for a pedestrian tour anyway.
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    Chapter 13
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