Then all at once a ray of light shot through a chink in the boarded wall, and came like a straight rainbow across the dusty gray floor and into the corner where he stood stooping.  His rope was there right enough, showing itself conspicuously, seeming to rise on its coils like a snake and slip its sinuous neck into his hands, so that he had picked it up and taken it from the corner before he knew what he was doing.

It was necessary to arrange things with care, but he was a strangely long time in making his running noose and satisfying himself that it could not possibly give way or anyhow fail.  He was also slow in making a stop-knot at the part of the rope that he proposed to attach to the tree, and he felt an extraordinary obtuseness of intelligence while making the calculations that he had so many times thought out during the night.  “Yes,” he said to himself, “twice the length of my arms.  That’s quite right.  Six feet is twice the length of my arms—­but I’ll try it again.  Yes—­quite all right.  Must be.  That’s a six foot drop.  That’s what I decided—­a six foot drop.  The rope’ll stand that.  But it mightn’t stand more.  An’ less than six feet mightn’t be enough either.  Yes, that’s right.”

Then he thought:  “I am wasting time.”  He was conscious of an imperative necessity for speed and a great danger in acting too hurriedly; and a queer idea came to him that while in this loft he had been having a series of cataleptic fits—­sudden blanknesses, total arrests of volition if not of consciousness, during which he had stood still, listening or staring, but not doing anything to the rope.

He came down from the loft, and in the doorway below a flood of bright sunlight dazzled him.  The sun had risen, Some of Mavis’ pigeons were cooing gently on the granary roof, a horse in the stables began to whinny, and two of the men came whistling round the outer barn into the yard.

“Good mornin’, sir.”

“Good morning.”

“Another nice day we are goin’ to ’aarve, sir.”

“Yes, looks like it.”

Seeing his rope and saw, the men asked if there was a job on hand in which they were to help; but he told them “No.”  He was only going to take down a small branch out of the walnut tree, and he could do it without any assistance.

Then the men went into the stables, and Dale passed through the kitchen garden to the back of the house.  Beneath the walnut tree he slung the coiled rope over one shoulder and under the other arm; and then he slowly ascended the ladder, saying to himself:  “I am on the steps of my scaffold.  The scaffold steps.  I am going up the scaffold steps.”  From the top of the ladder he got upon a branch, and, putting his arms about the stem, began to climb.  “Yes,” he said to himself, “my gallows tree.  I am going up the gallows tree.  This is my gallows tree;” and he climbed nimbly and firmly.