"Aw, it's this storm what made you dream," Nickie interposed, aroused by the commotion and sitting up rubbing his eyes.
Timmy's protest was almost a sob. "I'm tellin' you it was real-like! We're ridin' along in the dark an' it's lightnin' an' I'm gettin' wet an' I shiver. All of a sudden it don't look like Devlin sittin' beside me no more--it's like a ghost without no body--just big, starin' eyes like Devlin's--then I'm wise he's a killer--see? But he's gonna kill _me_!" Timmy crawled up on his cot and sat down, still trembling. "Somehow I don't remember what happened after that till I feel like I'm runnin' an' that Devlin's chasin' me. Then when I feel like I'm half dead I look up an' see it's this house. Up in the attic I see you an' Nickie at the little window. I'm hurt an' tell how Devlin tries to kill me. All of a sudden long arms come reachin' out from behind a big tree out in front. All I see is Devlin's starin' eyes an' I'm sorta chokin' to death when I wake up on the floor."
"Holy Smoke!" Nickie exclaimed. "What a guy! Can't you pick out nothin' better to dream about?"
Skippy sat down beside Timmy and patted him sympathetically. Suddenly the door opened and they saw Devlin's tall form outlined there.
"What's going on here?" he asked impatiently.
"Timmy," Skippy ventured; "he's hadda bad dream an' it threw him outa bed!"
"Hmph!" the man boomed in his funereal voice. "Dreams don't come true! Get back to bed and to sleep, you kids!" He shut the door and they heard his bare feet patter across the hall.
Nickie sneered contemptuously at the door. "It'd be too bad for you, Devlin, if that dream did come true!"
"But it won't," Skippy said soothingly. "My aunt always says dreams are always opposite."
Timmy had got hold of himself somewhat, and valiantly tried to forget his dream. "Yep," he agreed, "I guess that's right. Mebbe it was the heat an' my stomach. I never could eat right fore goin' to bed without dreamin' terrible things. But I never dreamed nothin' bad's that, that's all." He laughed nervously. "Aw, I'll forget it!"
Skippy wondered if he really would. Somehow he had the feeling that he wouldn't forget it--not ever!
The remainder of the night was a torment. Toward dawn Skippy dozed occasionally only to awaken each time with a start to find himself trembling and expectant. What he might hear or see he could not imagine, but he watched with relief the murky light of the new day seeping in through the chinks of the shutter and routing the dismal gloom that kept him in breathless suspense.