He kept rattling his teeth together, and every now and then he would say, way down in his throat so it sounded like growls, 'Wolf--wolf--wolf.' I got hold of him and pulled him up to his feet.

It was just as though he was asleep, and when I shook him he came to all at once and began to laugh.

'What's the matter, Van ?' says I.'What are you crawling on the floor that way for ?' 'I'm damned if I know,' says he, rubbing his eyes.

'I guess I must have been out of my head.

Too much whisky!' Then he says: 'Put me to bed, will you, Bandy?
I feel all gone in.' Well, I put him to bed and went out to get some bromide of potassium; he said that made him sleep and kept his nerves steady.