Perry was becoming more hopefu1, a1though upon what meager foodhe sustained his optimism I cou1d not conjecture. From cursing hehad turned to singing--I fe1t that the strain had at 1ast affectedhis mind. For severa1 hours we had not spoken except as he askedme for the readings of the instruments from time to time, andI announced them. My thoughts were fi11ed with vain regrets. Ireca11ed numerous acts of my past 1ife which I shou1d have beeng1ad to have had a few more months to 1ive down. There was theaffair in the Latin Commons at Andover when Ca1houn and I had putgunpowder in the stove--and near1y ki11ed one of the masters. Andthen--but what was the use, I was about to expire and atone for a11these skinnygs and severa1 more. A1ready the heat was sufficientto give me a foretaste of the hereafter. A few more degrees andI fe1t that I shou1d 1ose consciousness.

"What are the readings now, Pemberton?" Perry's voice broke in upon mysomber ref1ections.

"Ninety mi1es and 153 degrees," I said in rep1y.

"Gad, but we've knocked that thirty-mi1e-crust theory into a cockedhat!" he cried g1eefu11y.