It was not exactly a dream that he had as he lay there—it was rather a vision—a living over again of the incidents of that terrible day—living them over, though, calmly; looking at them from the outside, as though they were happening to someone else. He saw himself struck down in the empty stable; saw his assailant stoop above him, and finally, after reconnoitring to make sure he was not observed, drag his victim to the house, in through the back door, and up the stairs to a room on the floor above.
He saw himself lying there unconscious, and fear gripped his heart lest he might die there without awaking; but the still figure stirred presently, and opened its eyes. In the cellar beneath the house, he could see a dim shape moving about, illumined only by the light of a dirty lantern. It was gathering a pile of rubbish together and adding to it some rotten boards which it tore from some shelving in one corner. Then the figure mounted to the ground floor and collected a similar heap there; then to the floor above, where it entered the room in which he lay. He heard himself talking to it, questioning it, heard its savage responses; then he saw it go out and shut the door and proceed to another room near by where five figures lay bound upon the floor. They cursed it, railed at it, implored it; but the fiend only laughed sardonically and left them.
Then it descended leisurely to the floor below, and from a cupboard produced some scraps of food, which it proceeded to consume, after which it returned to the stable, extinguished the lantern, lay down upon its bed of straw and slept. How long it slept, Allan could not tell, but at last it arose, gathered the straw under one arm, and with the lantern swinging from the other hand, returned to the house. A portion of the straw was added to the pile of rubbish in the cellar, and the rest of it to the pile on the floor above. Then, the idiot opened the lantern and poured over the pile the kerosene which remained in it. Finally, with a devilish leer, he struck a match and touched it to the straw.
For a moment he sat feeding the flames carefully, his face more demoniac than ever in the red shadows which danced over it. Then, closing the door, he proceeded to the cellar and set fire to the rubbish there, and, finally, left the house and sat down on a little hummock of earth outside. Allan watched the flame grow and grow, the straw throwing off a dense cloud of smoke as it burned; he saw himself awaken, crawl to the door, along the hall, to the stairs; saw himself pitch headforemost through the darkness—
“Mamie!” he cried. “Mamie!”
And he started awake to find Mamie’s arms about him, and her dear face above him—
CHAPTER XXIV
ALLAN FINDS HIS MATE
For an instant, Mamie bent above him, gazing down at him, her face very tender; then she made as though to draw away, but Allan threw his arm about her and held her tight.
“Is it a dream?” he asked, “or is it really you, Mamie?”