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“Saxe.!” he shouted, “Saxlehner!”

His voice rang clarion-like over the vast prairies of ice and snow, the piercing sound echoed in my ears and startled me out of my trance; my eyes opened wide in reason. I was lying upon a couch in my own room, the sun streamed broadly through the open window, and Saxe. sat at the table drinking coffee and reading the morning paper. My head was swathed in ice-cold bandages, but the slightest movement gave me excruciating pain.

“Saxe.!” I called.

“All right, my boy,” he answered; “feel better?”

“What’s the row?”

“Oh, nothing serious, just the usual thing,” he replied. “If it hadn’t been for me you would have gone to sleep under the table, where most of them passed the night, I imagine.”

“Was that really what ailed me? I thought it was a trance.”

“Fact!” chuckled Saxe. “Trance, eh? well, well, well—trance! But it’s usually mentioned that way, I believe. There are others this morning whose sick heads makes them positive about it. Trance!”

“Did I break up the fun?”