awake that she wanted to leave her seat for a walk. This she knew was not entirely impossible since a bottle of oxygen attached to her tube and slung over her shoulder would give her freedom of movement. But this would call for more exertion than she felt like, and she lapsed back into sleepiness.

Then, little by little, she found herself drifting into a light and hilarious mood. She wanted to sing. She did hum little snatches of funny songs she knew. “The Bear Went Over The Mountain,” “The Old Gray Mare, She Ain’t What She Used To Be,” and “Clementine.”

From time to time Sparky looked at her and growled into his mask.

“Oh, Sparky,” she cried at last, “I’m tired of this mask. Can’t I take it off?”

She meant this only as a joke but Sparky roared, “For heaven’s sake! No! You wouldn’t last half a moment.”

Nothing daunted, she told him a rather long, funny story.

“Is that supposed to be a joke?” he growled. “If so, where’s the point?”

She began to realize that something was wrong.

“Either Sparky has turned into a terrible crab or I’m plain crazy,” she told herself half in despair.

From hilarity she went into gloomy foreboding. Then, of a sudden, she sprang out of both. She knew what had happened. Both she and Sparky were drunk on oxygen. They had been up high too long. They should drop to lower levels at once. But how was she ever to make Sparky see this? In the morose mood of a partially intoxicated man, he would perhaps resist all her suggestions.

After a moment’s thought she believed she had the very idea. “Sparky,” she said, “I’m hungry.”

“Suck your thumb, like a bear,” he growled.

“The coffee’s hot, a whole gallon of it.”

“It’s frozen solid. I told you it would be. Know what the temperature outside is? Thirty-five below.”

“Yes, I know, but that coffee’s still hot.”

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