Dreaming Bob 143 



grass that showed the ground was there 

 particularly fertile. All such places we ex- 

 amined with some care, but to have dug into 

 any one would have been absurd. Every 

 such spot was counted out because of its 

 position with reference to the public road. 

 At last we came to where pine woods had 

 been, a little island of pines once in a sea of 

 white oaks. 



"Stop," cried the old man, who was a 

 little distance off; " there's been pines here, 

 and somehow But my head's all mud- 

 dled." And he stood by a stout sapling and 

 leaned heavily against it. 



" You've been walking too fast," I sug- 

 gested. 



" No, I ain't ; but that dream's botherin* 

 me, and I feel sort o' queer," he said, with a 

 trembling voice that frightened me. " I'm 

 tough enough, seein' what I've gone through 

 in my day. Don't you worry : it's the 

 dream. I sort o' feel as if it was comin' 

 true." 



"We will rest awhile, anyhow," I said, 

 " and have a bite of lunch." And I pulled 

 a small package from my pocket. The old 

 man evidently expe&ed me to produce a 



