1/17 I had no knowledge of being approached, or handled, and yet every pocket was rifled, the revolver jerked from my hand, and my coat ripped from my body. Like so much carrion the fellows had flung me back against the wall, so as to make room for the swinging open of the door. I lay there huddled up in shapeless disfigurement, blood staining the stones, one arm twisted above my head. Consciousness returned so slowly, the benumbed brain began to flicker into activity before a stiffened muscle relaxed. |