But Marie fixed upon him a pair of black, audacious eyes.
"Did you ever walk in your sleep, Mr.Lane ?" "No; but"-- thoughtfully breaking an egg--"I have ridden, I think." "In your sleep?
Oh, do tell us all about it!" said Cousins Jane and Emma in chorus.
Uncle Sylvester cast a resigned glance out of the window.

"Oh, yes--certainly; it isn't much.

You see at one time I was in the habit of making long monotonous journeys, and they were often exhausting, and," he added, becoming wearied as if at the recollection, "always dreadfully tiresome.

As the trail was sometimes very uncertain and dangerous, I rode a very surefooted mule that could go anywhere where there was space big enough to set her small hoofs upon.

One night I was coming down the slope of a mountain towards a narrow valley and river that were crossed by an old, abandoned flume, of which nothing was now left but the upright trestle-work and long horizontal string-piece.