he had just sustained, was bound to throw these
impressions into confusion and disorder, jumbling them up into new and
strange combinations, obliterating some, and exaggerating others. Jimbo
himself was helpless in the matter; he could exercise no control over
their antics until the doctors had once again reduced them to order; he
would have to wander, lost and lonely, through the comparative chaos of
disproportioned visions, generally known as the region of delirium,
until the doctor, assisted by mother nature, restored him once more to
normal consciousness.

For a time everything was a blank, but presently he stirred uneasily in
the grass, and the pictures graven on the tablets of his mind began to
come back to him line by line.

Yet, with certain changes: the bull, for instance, had so far vanished
into the background of his thoughts that it had practically disappeared
altogether, and he recalled nothing of it but the wings--the huge,
flapping wings. Of the creature to whom the wings belonged he had no
recollection beyond that it was very large, and that it was chasing him
from the Empty House. The pain in his shoulders had also gone; but what
remained with undiminished vividness were the sensations of flight
without escape, the breathless race up into the sky, and the swift,
tumbling drop again through the air on to the lawn.

This impression of rushing through space--short though the actual
distance had been--was the dominating memory. All else was apparently
oblivion. He forgot where he came from, and he forgot what he had been
doing. The events leading up to the catastrophe, indeed everything
connected with his existence previously as "Master James," had entirely
vanished; and the slate of memory had been wiped so clean that he had
forgotten even his own name!

Jimbo was lying, so to speak, on the edge of unconsciousness, and for a
time it seemed uncertain whether he would cross the line into the region
of delirium and dreams, or fall back again into his natural world.
Terror, assisted by the horns of the black bull, had tossed him into the
borderland.

His last scream, however, had reached the ears of the ubiquitous
gardener, and help was near at hand. He heard voices that seemed to come
from beyond the stars, and was aware that shadowy forms were standing
over him and talking in whispers. But it was all very unreal; one minute
the voices sounded up in the sky, and the next in his very ears, while
the fig