ds, and Ayrault hastened
towards the Callisto, intending to remain there, if necessary, until
the storm was over. For about twenty minutes he hurried on through the
growing darkness, stopping once on high ground to make sure of his
bearings, and he had covered more than half the distance when the rain
came on in a flood, accompanied by brilliant lightning. Seeing the
huge, hollow trunk of a fallen tree near, and not wishing to be wet
through, Ayrault fired several solid shots from his revolver into the
cavity, to drive out any wild animals there might be inside, and then
hurriedly crawled in, feet first. He next drew in his head, and was
congratulating himself on his snug retreat, when the sky became lurid
with a flash of lightning, then his head dropped forward, and he was
unconscious.

CHAPTER XI.

DREAMLAND TO SHADOWLAND.

As Ayrault's consciousness returned, he fancied he heard music. Though
distant, it was distinct, and seemed to ring from the ether of space.
Occasionally it sounded even more remote, but it was rhythmical and
continuous, inspiring and stirring him as nothing that he had ever
heard before. Finally, it was overcome by the more vivid impressions
upon his other senses, and he found himself walking in the streets of
his native city. It was spring, and the trees were white with buds.
The long shadows of the late afternoon stretched across the way, but
the clear sky gave indication of prolonged twilight, and the air was
warm and balmy. Nature was filled with life, and seemed to be
proclaiming that the cold was past.

As he moved along the street he met a funeral procession.

"What a pity," he thought, "a man should die, with summer so near at
hand!"

He was also surprised at the keenness of his sight; for, inclosed in
each man's body, he saw the outline of his soul. But the dead man's
body was empty, like a cage without a bird. He also read the thoughts
in their minds.

"Now," said a large man in the carriage next the hearse, "I may win
her, since she is a widow."

The widow herself kept thinking: "Would it had been I! His life was
essential to the children, while I should scarcely have been missed. I
wish I had no duties here, and might follow him now."

While pondering on these things, he reached Sylvia's house, and went
into the little room in which he had so often seen her. The warm
southwesterly breeze blew through the open w