In the flaring fire he saw strange pictures of events in his own career—a career such as had never before fallen to the lot of a boy of his years.
He seemed to behold the scores of perils through which he had passed, and before him seemed to flit the faces of the many friends and foes he had made.
He saw the foes of his school days—Snell, Bascomb, Gage, and all the others—skulk past in procession. Snell had a sneaking, treacherous look on his face, Bascomb swaggered along in the old bullying manner, and Gage seemed to be driven along by the Evil One, who was constantly goading him to rash and desperate things. Then he saw the face of his most deadly enemy, his own cousin, Carlos Merriwell; but it no longer bore a look of malignant hatred, for it was white and cold in the last long sleep.
There were other enemies who had sprung up along his path, but they seemed like shadows in comparison to the ones of his school days.
Following these came others, and the dark look faded from his countenance. He saw Bart Hodge, who had once been his bitter enemy, but who had become his stanchest friend. Hodge held out a hand to him, as if longing to render aid in this hour of need.
Then came scores of others, the cadets at Fardale, the professors, and, last of all, the girls who had admired him and believed him noble and true.
Elsie Bellwood smiled at him sadly, and pointed to a mighty barrier that lay between them; Kate Kenyon tried to reach him, and then drew back, with a hopeless shake of her head; others came and flitted past, and last of all Inza Burrage was there, holding out her hands to him, her dark eyes full of trust.
"Inza!"
The name fell from his lips, and it aroused him. Barney had fallen asleep, and was snoring beside the fire.
But what was that? Did he still dream?