I went in, and judged she was right--he appeared to have a hundred of them, compressed into one.
Two Germans were there, trying to hold him, and not making much of a success of it.

I ran up the street half a block or so and routed out a sleeping doctor, brought him down half dressed, and we four wrestled with the maniac, and doctored, drenched and bled him, for more than an hour, and the poor German woman did the crying.

He grew quiet, now, and the doctor and I withdrew and left him to his friends.
It was a little after one o'clock.

As I entered the cabin door, tired but jolly, the dingy light of a tallow candle revealed Higbie, sitting by the pine table gazing stupidly at my note, which he held in his fingers, and looking pale, old, and haggard.

I halted, and looked at him.