one. You're not a score. Be off.'

"And I came away and never said a word."

"But you sent the fifty pounds to your poor old aunt?"

"Why, of course I did; but I shall never pay old `Hard Nut with the
Sweet Kernel' his money back. God bless him, though, and I hope he'll
know the reason why before he dies."

"God bless him! yes," said the listener, in a deep, low voice that
sounded very strange, and as if the speaker could hardly trust himself
to speak.

Then they lay together in the darkness and silence for a time, till Abel
Wray made an effort and said in his harsh, husky voice:

"There, that's all. Makes a fellow feel soft. Think it's midnight
yet?"

"No, no," was whispered.

"I'll strike a match and see."

"No. We want every mouthful of air to breathe, or I should have struck
one long ago."

"Of course. I never thought of it once. Sleepy?"

"No."

"Then fair play. Tell me your story now."

"There is no need. But tell me this; am I awake? Have you told me all
this, or have I dreamed it?"

"I've told you it all, of course."

"Am I sane, or wandering in my head? It can't be true. I must be mad."

"Then I am, too. Bah! as Uncle Morgan said. Come, play fair; tell me
how you came here?"

"The same way as you did, and to get gold."

"Well, so I supposed. There, just as you like. I will not press you to
tell me."

"I tell you there is no need. For your story is mine. We thought as
brothers with one brain; we made the same plan; we travelled with the
same means; we supplied the dear old aunt and mother from the same
true-hearted source. Bel, old lad, don't you know me? It is I, Dal,
and we meet like this!"

"Great heaven!" gasped Abel, in his low, husky whisper. "It has turned
his brain. Impossible! Yes, that is it; the air is turning hot and
strange at last, and this has driven me mad. It is all a wandering
dream."

CHAPTER SEVEN.

FEVERED DREAMS.

"It is _no_ wandering dream, Bel. I tell you I seem to have been
inspired to do exactly the same as you did, and I went to Uncle Morgan,
who treated me just as he treated you."

"Yes, a dream--off my head," said Abel Wray, in his harsh whisper.

"No, no, old fellow," cried Dallas; "it is all true. Uncle was never so
strange to me before. It was because you had been to him first. It is
wonderful. Your voice is so changed I did not know it, and in the
darkness I never saw your face."

"Yes--delirious," croaked Ab