Now I noticed a succession of loud cracks
and snaps at the front of the house, and, from the character of
the sounds, I concluded that my little front porch, which had
been acting as a cutwater at the bow of my shiplike house, had
yielded at last to the rough contact with the ground, and would
probably soon be torn away. This did not disturb me, for the
house must still be firm.
It was not long before I perceived that the slanting of my
bed was becoming less and less, and also I was quite sure that
the house was moving more slowly. Then the crackings and
snappings before my front wall ceased altogether. The bed
resumed its ordinary horizontal position, and although I did not
know at what moment the house had ceased sliding and had come to
a standstill, I was sure that it had done so. It was now resting
upon a level surface. The room was still perfectly dark, and the
storm continued. It was useless for me to get up until daylight
came,--I could not see what had happened,--so I lay back upon my
pillow and tried to imagine upon what level portion of my farm I
had stranded. While doing this I fell asleep.
When I woke, a little light was stealing into the room
through the blinds of my shutters. I quickly slipped out of bed,
opened a window, and looked out. Day was just breaking, the rain
and wind had ceased, and I could discern objects. But it seemed
as if I needed some light in my brain to enable me to comprehend
what I saw. My eyes fell upon nothing familiar.
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