he memories of the faces of all those dead men to whom
the names had belonged. The faces began to pass before him in a mental
procession. This wouldn't do. Since there were no such things as ghosts
or haunts; since, as all sensible men agreed, the dead never came back
from the grave, it was a foolish thing for him to be creating those
unpleasant images in his mind. He shook his head to clear it of
recollections which were the better forgotten. He shook it again and
again.

He would get to bed; a good night's rest would make him feel better and
more natural. It was an excellent idea--this idea of sleep. So he raised
the bottommost half of the curtain-less side window for air, drew down
the shade by the string suspended from its lower cross breadth, until
the lower edge of the shade came even with the window sash, and
undressed himself to his undergarments. He was about to blow out the
light when he remembered he had left the money that was the price of his
morning's work in his trousers which hung, neatly folded, across the
back of a chair by the centre table. He was in the act of withdrawing
the bills from the bottom of one of the trouser-pockets when right at
his feet there was a quick, queer sound of rustling. As he glared down,
startled, out from under the crumpled newspaper came timorously creeping
a half-grown, sickly looking rat, minus its tail, having lost its tail
in a trap, perhaps, or possibly in a battle with other rats.

At best a rat is no pleasant bedroom companion, and besides, Uncle Tobe
had been seriously annoyed. He kicked out with one of his bare feet,
taking the rat squarely in its side as it scurried for its hole in the
wainscoting. He hurt it badly. It landed with a thump ten feet away and
sprawled out on the floor kicking and squealing feebly. Holding the wad
of bills in his left hand, with his right Uncle Tobe deftly plucked up
the crushed vermin by the loose fold of skin at the nape of its neck,
and with a quick flirt of his arm tossed it sidewise from him to cast it
out of the half-opened window. He returned to the table and bent over
and blew down the lamp chimney, and in the darkness felt his way across
the room to his bed. He stretched himself full length upon it, drew the
cotton comforter up to cover him, and shoved the money under the pillow.

His fingers were relaxing their grip on the bills when he saw
something--something which instantly turned him stiff and rigid and
deathly cold all