"I'm sure you have. But wake up now; the word to be ready has come."
At the very moment of waking I knew something was wrong, but it was not until my brother spoke the second time that I remembered where we were.
By some odd chance I had been dreaming of the years gone by, when Stephen and I were merry children playing in the old home at Gyula.
The past had returned to me so vividly--the sound of my father's voice, the picture of my mother's beautiful face and loving smile--that even now I could scarcely grasp the truth.
I had forgotten all about the cruel war, the trenches, the coming assault, and the near danger of death, so that the shock of awakening unnerved me for the moment.
The word had come! What word? Where was I? Ah! my memory returned with a rush, and I sprang to my feet.
"Steady, old fellow," said my brother cheerfully; "we mustn't make a noise yet."
I pressed his hand and whispered,--
"I had forgotten. I was dreaming we were children at home again."
"Don't, George; you hurt me," said he sharply, as if in pain, though I only pressed his hand gently.