ad proceeded about a quarter of a mile. "My mind is
perplexed with some unpleasant doubts. What is your opinion of him?"

"He plays on both sides," replied Horse Shoe, "and knows more of you
than by rights he ought. He spoke consarning of you, this morning, as
_Major_ Butler. It came out of his mouth onawares."

"Ha! Is my name on any part of my baggage or dress?"

"Not that I know of," replied the sergeant; "and if it was, Wat can't
read."

"Were you interrupted in your sleep last night, Galbraith? Did you hear
noises in our room?"

"Nothing, Major, louder nor the gnawing of a mouse at the foot of the
plank partition. Did you see a spirit that you look so solemn?"

"I did, sergeant!" said Butler, with great earnestness of manner. "I had
a dream that had something more than natural in it."

"You amaze me, Major! If you saw anything, why didn't you awake me?"

"I hadn't time before it was gone, and then it was too late. I dreamed,
Galbraith, that somehow--for my dream didn't explain how she came
in--Mary Musgrove, the young girl we saw----"

"Ha! ha! ha! Major, that young girl's oversot you! Was that the sperit?"

"Peace, Galbraith, I am in earnest; listen to me. I dreamt Mary Musgrove
came into our room and warned us that our lives were in danger; how, I
forget, or perhaps she did not tell, but she spoke of our being waylaid,
and, I think, she advised that at this very fork of the road we have
just passed, we should take the left hand--the right, according to my
dream, she said, led to some spring."

"Perhaps the Dogwood, Major," said Robinson, laughing; "there is such a
place, somewhere in these parts."

"The Dogwood! by my life," exclaimed Butler; "she called it the Dogwood
spring."

"That's very strange," said Robinson gravely; "that's very strange,
unless you have hearn some one talk about the spring before you went to
bed last night. For, as sure as you are a gentleman, there is such a
spring not far off, although I don't know exactly where."

"And what perplexes me," continued Butler, "is that, this morning,
almost in the very words of my dream, Mary Musgrove cautioned me, in a
whisper, to take the left road at the fork. How is she connected with my
dream? Or could it have been a reality, and was it the girl herself who
spoke? I have no recollection of such a word from her before I retired
to bed."

"I have hearn of these sort of things before, major, and never could
make them out. For my share,