someone she had expected.

51

“Father!” she exclaimed timidly. “Are you here, father?”

Wilson took her arm gently but firmly.

“Your father is not here, comrade. He has not been here. You––you drowsed a bit, I guess.”

She caught sight of the image on the floor and instantly understood. She passed her hands over her eyes in an effort to recall what she had seen.

“I remember––I remember,” she faltered. “I was in some foreign land––some strange place––and I saw––I saw my father.”

She looked puzzled.

“That is odd, because it was here that I saw him yesterday.”

Her lips were dry and she asked Wilson for a glass of water. A pitcher stood upon the table, which he had brought up with the other things. When she had moistened her lips, she sat down again still a bit stupid. The wounded man spoke.

“My dear,” he said, “what you have just seen through the medium of that image interests me more than I can tell you. It may be that I can be of some help to you. My name is Sorez––and I know well that country which you have just seen. It is many thousand miles from here.”

“As far as the land of dreams,” interrupted Wilson. “I think the girl has been worried enough by such nonsense.”

“You spoke of your father,” continued Sorez, ignoring the outburst. “Has he ever visited South America?”

52

“Many times. He was a sea captain, but he has not been home for years now.”

“Ah, Dios!” exclaimed Sorez, “I understand now why you saw so clearly.”

“You know my father––you have seen him?”

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