All night long I had been the helpless victim of circumstances, and I could only trust blindly to luck for the future.
I recall lying there, staring up into the darkness, listening to the squeal of a rat in some distant corner, the memory of the past few hours rioting through my brain in bewildered confusion.

I had not intended to sleep, yet drowsiness came, and I lost consciousness.
I know not what aroused me, but it was already daylight, a gleam of sun through the windows turning the festooned cobwebs into golden tapestry.
One side of the box in which I lay had been broken out, and I could see the full length of the shop, which appeared littered from end to end with all manner of implements of husbandry, and woodworking and blacksmith's tools.

It was a jumble of odds and ends, scraps of wood and iron, discarded parts of machinery, an old forge, bits of harness, and a broken saddletree.

All this I perceived with my first glance, but it was the distant sound of a voice which as instantly held my attention.

At first I could not locate the speaker, nor comprehend the peculiar singsong of the utterance.