He did hear, though, the creaking of a window opening, and a glance—just a glance—did he catch of the silhouette of the murderer against the bright day. The alarm went up, his old, croaking voice breaking at the top of his haggard lungs—Murder! Murder! Murder! He rushed to the window and pointed out. The shadow fled away, but there were too many eyes now and not enough desks to hide behind. The shadow dove into the jungle but not before he was known. And the name of the shadow was whispered in the house of the wizard.
A Dream
Tale Told 