"Silence, man! Here, come down the next street," whispered Dick,
thrusting his arm beneath the other's to lead him into a less crowded
thoroughfare; but Jerry started from him violently.

"Don't--don't touch me!" he gasped.

"Quiet, man!" said Dick, gripping him tightly. "That doesn't feel like
a ghost?"

"Oh, lor'!" groaned Jerry, with the great drops of cold perspiration
crowding upon his brow. "But--but I see you drownd yourself before my
very eyes!"

"No, you did not, or I shouldn't be standing here now!"

"But--but--oh, lor'!" groaned Jerry, with his voice growing faint and
piteous, "is--is it really you S'Rich--?"

"Silence! I'm Dick Smithson, now!" cried the young man fiercely.

"But you was S'Richard," groaned Jerry, "before you come to life again!"

"What nonsense are you talking now?"

"Only the truth, sir. Why--why--oh, dear! can we get a drop o' brandy?"

"Come in here," said Dick, seeing how bad the man looked, and he led him
into a tavern which, oddly enough, it being a garrison town, stood near.

The next minute they were seated alone in the parlour, and Jerry
guardedly stretched out his hand to touch Dick's knee.

"Well!" said the young man, "does it feel real?"

"Yes; but I see you drownd yourself before my very eyes, S'Rich--"

"Silence, man!"

"But I did," said Jerry, plaintively; "and we sat upon you at the
inquest."

"What!"

"Didn't I see you, my poor, dear lad, all stripped and torn by beating
about in the river-bed with stones and old trees; and didn't I go and
drop a tear or two on your coffin?"

"Jerry!"

"I did the day as you was buried, though things was that bad I had to
sell my watch to pay my fare."

"Here, quick! Tell me," cried Dick, whose turn it was to be staggered
now, "you--you--they--they did all this?"

"To be sure they did; and you're as dead as a door-nail, sir. I see it
all myself. Oh, my lad! how could you--how could you go and drownd
yourself like that?"

"I--go to drown myself! Nonsense!" cried Dick. Then, as the truth
flashed upon him: "Why, Jerry, it was that poor boy with the sheep--the
boy I tried to save."

"No; it was you, sir--I followed you, and got there just too late."

"You did!"

"Yes, sir, I did."

"But you don't understand, Jerry."

"No. I don't; and that's the worst of it, sir," cried Jerry, piteously.
"You was buried, for I followed yer; so how can you be here now
a-talking to me?"

"But don't you see?"

"Ye