"Well?" inquired Leighton impatiently. "Well, Sir, as I was saying, I heard footsteps. They approached me. I made up my mind I had better see who it was. I turned around. And then I saw, a few yards from me, a stranger. How he came there without my having seen him before, I can't imagine. And then, thinking about this, I confess I became quite agitated." "But what was he like, what did he say?" demanded Leighton. "It was a man, I suppose?" "Oh, yes, I am quite sure he was a man--a very tall man, and singularly dressed." "'Singularly dressed?'" "I thought so, at least. But then, I am not familiar with the fashions of this country. You see, it is very cold on the shores of the lake, and I should think that any one going there would want at least to be warmly clad. But this man had nothing on that I could see, except a long sort of toga, just like the pictures I have studied in Herodotus. It was looped up on one shoulder through what looked like a golden ring----" "He dream! He dream! this leetle fellow!" laughed Miranda. "He is too good." "And this toga fell down to a point just below his knees. It was a purple and white toga--or perhaps I ought to call it a tunic--with a fringe of gold tassels. He had sandals on his bare feet and wore no trousers--at least, I could see none." "Caramba!" "Really, Mr. Parmelee, you describe a very singular sort of person for this age and climate," said Leighton coldly. "Are you sure that your agitated state of mind--you admit you were agitated--did not create a purely imaginary apparition?" "Did I not say he dream?" demanded Miranda triumphantly. "And the police say he drink. But that is not so--he never drink. I know. I am there." "I am very sorry, Sir; I know it sounds ridiculous," protested the distressed Andrew. "But I am certain that I was not asleep--or anything else that these well-meaning gentlemen say. I am only telling you what I really saw." "Well, tell us the whole story. Setting aside this person's remarkable costume, what was he like, what did he say?" "I don't think he said anything. He was an Indian. That is, he was not a white man. I never saw any one just like him, so I may not be right about the race to which he belongs." Andrew's confused statement brought protests from Leighton as well as Miranda. "In this country," remarked Leighton dogmatically, "a man is either an Indian, a white, or a half-breed. There are no negroes up here, you know. The negroes all stayed on the coast. As for your inability to tell us whether he spoke or not--well, the whole thing begins to sound absurd." But the rebuke failed to bring out anything more clear in the way of explanation from Andrew.