But the man stood motionless in the light that fell across the veranda from the open window of his room, watching with eyes that shone with a fierce and glaring intensity for the return of his vision.
The fevered blood was hammering at his temples.

For the moment he was scarcely sane.

The fearful strain of the past few weeks that had overwhelmed less hardy men had wrought upon him in a fashion more subtle but none the less compelling.

They had been stricken down, whereas he had been strung to a pitch where bodily suffering had almost ceased to count.

He had grown used to the torment, and now in this supreme moment it tore from him his civilization, but his physical strength remained untouched.