There was a cool, liquid feeling about it and he imagined blood moving slowly down under his hair.

His head seemed swollen to a size that made him think his neck to be inadequate.
The new silence of his wound made much worriment.

The little blistering voices of pain that had called out from his scalp were, he thought, definite in their expression of danger.

By them he believed that he could measure his plight.

But when they remained ominously silent he became frightened and imagined terrible fingers that clutched into his brain.
Amid it he began to reflect upon various incidents and conditions of the past.