A cold sweat broke out all over Charley, as he started up in bed, and such was the impression that the dream made on him, that he determined to go to the carpenters' room and satisfy himself with his own eyes that all was right. It was fortunate indeed for Tommy that Charley had his dream, for had he been left till morning in his confused and cramped position, he would undoubtedly have been a corpse. Hastily slipping on his clothes, Charley crept out of the room and stood a moment at the head of the stairs to assure himself that all was quiet. Mr. and Mrs. Barker had retired to rest, and the house was consequently as still as the grave; so he boldly made his way to the place where he had left Tommy. Striking a match, he lighted a lantern, which cast a lurid light over the pile of coffins, and, to his astonishment, perceived that the wooden casket into which his friend had crawled was nailed down. "Dad's been up here," he muttered, "and I shouldn't wonder if he hain't taken the living for the dead." Seizing a screw-driver, he began to force off the lid, finding his judgment correct, for there was Tommy Smithers, breathing heavily, with the blood oozing from his eyes, nose, mouth and ears. "By thunder," he cried, "that was a lucky dream of mine. I'm only just in time; but better late than never; a good motto, and he yet lives." With some difficulty he lifted Tommy out of the coffin, and placed him on the floor, when the cold air soon revived him. Opening his eyes, he looked curiously around him at the strange surroundings, like one emerging from a trance, but when his eyes fell upon Charley, his memory seemed to come back to him, and he smiled faintly. Presently he sat up and said: "I guess your father nailed me down, thinking I was Tony Marsh. But how did you come to know it?" "It was through a dream I had," replied Charley. "A dream," repeated Tommy, in surprise. "Yes. I thought you were in a fiery furnace, and called to me for help. The dream was so clear that I couldn't sleep until I had come to see if you were all right." "Thank you," said Tommy, grasping his hand. "You have saved my life." He was trembling with excitement and shivering with the cold, so that Charley concluded to offer him half his bed. "Come and turn in with me," he exclaimed. "I'll stand a thrashing from father. You can't rest here." "No, indeed," answered Tommy, with a shudder. "I came too near dying here to like the idea. Wouldn't it have been horrible if I had gone to the grave that way?" "I'll bet you. Wait while I put poor little Tony in the box and fix the lid, or father will think something." He took hold of Tony, and was about to place him in the coffin when he dropped the body. "What's the mat-matter?" asked Tommy, whose teeth were chattering. "He's warm yet," answered Charley. "What you say?" cried Tommy. "It can't be, because the doctor said he was a gone coon."