Next thing I mind, I've left the track, an' turned
Into the blackened scrub—my eyes feel bad—
Above my head the messmate trees still burned.
An' Lord, them awful fancies that I had!
I seen her lyin' there—her face—her hair. …
Why, even now, them thoughts give me a scare.
I stumble on. Against a red-hot butt
I burn my hand, but never even swear;
But keep on sayin', "Make the splitter's hut,
The splitter's hut! Get to the clearin' there.
She's at the splitter's hut; an' if she ain't …"
My heart turns over, an' I feel dead faint.
An', as I plug along, I hear some fool
Repeatin' words till they sound like a spell.
"I'm goin' mad," I thinks. "Keep cool! Keep cool!"
But still that voice goes on: "My Nell! My Nell!"
I whips round quick to see who he can be.
This yappin' fool — then realize it's me.
They say I must have gone thro' blazin' ferns.
Perhaps I did; but I don't recollect.
My mind was blank, but, judgin' by my burns.
There's somethin' got to me that took effect.
But once, I know, I saw a flamin' tree
Fall just behind; but that don't trouble me.
