eat; "who is it?"

It was Obenreizer, and he uttered a cry of surprise as Vendale came upon
him from that unexpected direction. "Not in bed?" he said, catching him
by both shoulders with an instinctive tendency to a struggle. "Then
something _is_ wrong!"

"What do you mean?" said Vendale, releasing himself.

"First tell me; you are not ill?"

"Ill? No."

"I have had a bad dream about you. How is it that I see you up and
dressed?"

"My good fellow, I may as well ask you how it is that I see _you_ up and
undressed?"

"I have told you why. I have had a bad dream about you. I tried to rest
after it, but it was impossible. I could not make up my mind to stay
where I was without knowing you were safe; and yet I could not make up my
mind to come in here. I have been minutes hesitating at the door. It is
so easy to laugh at a dream that you have not dreamed. Where is your
candle?"

"Burnt out."

"I have a whole one in my room. Shall I fetch it?"

"Do so."

His room was very near, and he was absent for but a few seconds. Coming
back with the candle in his hand, he kneeled down on the hearth and
lighted it. As he blew with his breath a charred billet into flame for
the purpose, Vendale, looking down at him, saw that his lips were white
and not easy of control.

"Yes!" said Obenreizer, setting the lighted candle on the table, "it was
a bad dream. Only look at me!"

His feet were bare; his red-flannel shirt was thrown back at the throat,
and its sleeves were rolled above the elbows; his only other garment, a
pair of under pantaloons or drawers, reaching to the ankles, fitted him
close and tight. A certain lithe and savage appearance was on his
figure, and his eyes were very bright.

"If there had been a wrestle with a robber, as I dreamed," said
Obenreizer, "you see, I was stripped for it."

"And armed too," said Vendale, glancing at his girdle.

"A traveller's dagger, that I always carry on the road," he answered
carelessly, half drawing it from its sheath with his left hand, and
putting it back again. "Do you carry no such thing?"

"Nothing of the kind."

"No pistols?" said Obenreizer, glancing at the table, and from it to the
untouched pillow.

"Nothing of the sort."

"You Englishmen are so confident! You wish to sleep?"

"I have wished to sleep this long time, but I can't do it."

"I neither, after the bad dream. My fire has gone the way of your
candle. May I come and sit by you