Half by instinct, he realised that he was not in his own tent. True, he might have awaked there from a nightmare to a world equally black; yet he knew this was not so. There was no camp cot beneath him -- he had no hands to feel the blankets and canvas surface and flashlight that ought to be around him -- there was no sensation of cold in the air -- no flap through which he could glimpse the pale night outside ... something was wrong, dreadfully wrong.