"I think we may fairly admit so much," replied Colonel Eyre. "If it had not been for my dream, I do not think the report of the man-eater would have brought me back. On the other hand, but for hearing about the man-eater and actually being awakened by the roar of a tiger, I am not sure that the dream would have had weight enough with me to induce me to leave a detachment on the march--a serious thing, gentlemen, as some of you who are soldiers know well enough." "It's a very curious circumstance, certainly," observed Sir Alan; and then there was a pause. "But see here, colonel," Tom broke in again, "the dream, if a warning at all, was a warning of danger to you, yourself, and though you certainly heard Mrs. Eyre's voice calling to you, yet it was urging you to save yourself, and not summoning you to her assistance." "That is very true, and it puzzled me at the time. But, as I argued, it is wonderful enough to get a warning of danger in the future at all; you must not expect to have it spelled out to you in large print. Now, as to this dream of Mrs. Everton's--it prefigures danger to you, as I understand?" "You must go to Mrs. Everton herself for the details. All that I remember is that she saw me lying drowned in the Balmaquidder, and read the vision as a warning that some accident would befall me if I joined the shooting-party to-morrow. But, by the light of your experience, it would seem the danger is to her, not to me." "I'm not quite so sure of that," returned the colonel, thoughtfully. "Well, I think there can be no question that your dream saved your wife's life," observed Jones, upon whose scepticism the colonel's narrative had made some impression. "No question at all," rejoined that officer, rising, "and therefore, young man, pay attention to dreams, whether they be your own or those of your better half, which should be, _a fortiori_, better and more reliable than your own. Good-night, gentlemen. It's past one o'clock, and we have an early start before us." In ten minutes more silence and darkness reigned in the smoking-room of Balmaquidder Lodge. Next morning the men of the party were up and stirring betimes. As I left my bedroom, candle in hand, I heard voices proceeding from the apartment occupied by Mr. and Mrs. Everton. "Ah, ha," thought I, "Tom's curtain lecture is not over yet." However, our friend's absence was forgotten in the enjoyment of a substantial Highland breakfast, and by the time the sun asserted his power against the mist we were bravely breasting a steep mountain side, spurred on by the hope of a good day's sport. Only one incident occurred at our start. Sir Alan was setting his face against a steep brae when he was stopped by the bare-legged gillie who acted as our guide. "Dinna gae yon gait, Sir Alan. We must win ower by the brig below." "Can't we get across by the stepping-stones at the ford?" inquired our host, impatiently. "The bridge is a mile of a round."