It was fortunate indeed for Tommy that Charley had his dream, for had he been left till morning in his confused and cramped position, he would undoubtedly have been a corpse.
Hastily slipping on his clothes, Charley crept out of the room and stood a moment at the head of the stairs to assure himself that all was quiet.
Mr. and Mrs. Barker had retired to rest, and the house was consequently as still as the grave; so he boldly made his way to the place where he had left Tommy.
Striking a match, he lighted a lantern, which cast a lurid light over the pile of coffins, and, to his astonishment, perceived that the wooden casket into which his friend had crawled was nailed down.
"Dad's been up here," he muttered, "and I shouldn't wonder if he hain't taken the living for the dead."
Seizing a screw-driver, he began to force off the lid, finding his judgment correct, for there was Tommy Smithers, breathing heavily, with the blood oozing from his eyes, nose, mouth and ears.
"By thunder," he cried, "that was a lucky dream of mine. I'm only just in time; but better late than never; a good motto, and he yet lives."
With some difficulty he lifted Tommy out of the coffin, and placed him on the floor, when the cold air soon revived him.
Opening his eyes, he looked curiously around him at the strange surroundings, like one emerging from a trance, but when his eyes fell upon Charley, his memory seemed to come back to him, and he smiled faintly.
Presently he sat up and said: