"Where do you suppose this box came from?" asked Ben, and then he gazed curiously at Shadow, and the others did the same.
"I—I suppose you think—that is, you imagine I—er—I had something to do with this," stammered the boy who had on several occasions walked in his sleep.
"Do you know anything about it, Shadow?" asked Dave.
"Not the first thing!"
"Did you dream of anything last night?"
"Yes, I dreamed about a—er—a——" stammered the sleep-walker. "I—er——Oh, it wasn't about shoes, or anything like that."
"Well, what was it?" demanded Roger, sternly.
"It was about a party, if you must know. I dreamt I took a girl, and we had a nice time dancing and playing games. There weren't any shoes in it," and poor Shadow got redder than ever.
Dave looked the box over with care. It was a common pasteboard box, with nothing on it in the way of writing or advertising.
"This certainly is a mystery," he said, slowly. "First the shoes disappear, and now they come back. I give it up."