"I thought so," lied the doctor cheerfully, looking into the terror-
stricken eyes. "I can almost always tell when a fellow's made out of
the right sort of stuff. You don't wear false teeth, do you?"
Chick's sudden, toothless smile revealed the futility of this
question.
"That's good. No danger of your swallowing them. Now suppose you put
this funnel over your mouth and take a big breath. That's right!
Another one! That's right, once more!"
Chick felt a hot, sweet air rush into his throat, and began to choke.
But the doctor's voice kept saying insistently, "Once more!" "Once
more, my boy!" And the doctor thought he was game.
He shut his eyes and tried not to be afraid, but fearful things were
happening! His skin was leaving his body; and he was going up in the
air; lights danced before his eyes and he was suddenly in a terrible
hurry about something. He had never been in such a hurry before! He
was leaving doctors and nurses far below, he could hear their voices
growing fainter every moment. Then suddenly the lights began to dance
again, and the hurry came back, and all the breath was being squeezed
out of him. No, he couldn't be game any longer! He must fight!
Savagely, blindly, dumbly he struggled against this awful unknown
thing that was mastering him.
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