Joe awoke as from a fearsome nightmare.

Returning consciousness brought a vague idea that he had been dreaming of clashing weapons, of yelling savages, of a conflict in which he had been clutched by sinewy fingers.

An acute pain pulsed through his temples; a bloody mist glazed his eyes; a sore pressure cramped his arms and legs.
Surely he dreamed this distress, as well as the fight.

The red film cleared from his eyes.

His wandering gaze showed the stern reality.
The bright sun, making the dewdrops glisten on the leaves, lighted up a tragedy.