Presently she shivered with the growing coolness, and went into a rough hut, which she shared with Cunora.  The girl was already asleep on a heap of freshly gathered brush.  Rolla, delightfully free of any need to prepare for her night’s rest—­such as locking any doors or cleaning her teeth—­made herself comfortable beside her friend.  Two or three yawns, and the doctor’s chance came.

Two minutes later Rolla sat bolt upright, at the same time giving out a sharp cry of amazement and alarm.  Instantly Cunora awoke.

“What is it, Rolla?” terror-stricken.

“Hush!” The older woman got up and went to the opening which served as a door.  There she hung a couple of skins, arranging them carefully so that no bee might enter.  Coming back to Cunora, she brought her voice nearly to a whisper: 

“Cunora, I have had a wonderful dream!  Ye must believe me when I say that it were more than a mere dream; ’twere a message from the great god, Mownoth, or I be mad!”

“Rolla!” The girl was more anxious than frightened now.  “Ye speak wildly!  Quiet thyself, and tell what thou didst see!”

“It were not easy to describe,” said Rolla, getting herself under control.  “I dreamed that a man, very pale of face and most curiously clad, did approach me while I was at work.  He smiled and spake kindly, in a language I could not understand; but I know he meant full well.

“This be the curious thing, Cunora:  He picked up a handful of leaves from the ground and laid them on the trough at my side.  Then, from some place in his garments he produced a tiny stick of white wood, with a tip made of some dark-red material.  This he held before mine eyes, in the dream; and then spake very reassuringly, as though bidding me not to be afraid.

“Well he might!  Cunora, he took that tiny stick in his hand and moved the tip along the surface of the trough; and, behold, a miracle!”

“What happened?” breathlessly.

“In the twinkling of an eye, the stick blossomed!  Blossomed, Cunora, before mine eyes!  And such a blossom no eye ever beheld before.  Its color was the color of the poppy, but its shape—­most amazing!  Its shape continually changed, Cunora; it danced about, and rose and fell; it flowed, even as water floweth in a stream, but always upward!”

“Rolla!” incredulously.  “Ye would not awaken me to tell such nonsense!”

“But it were not nonsense!” insisted Rolla.  “This blossom was even as I say:  a living thing, as live as a kitten!  And as it bloomed, behold, the stick was consumed!  In a moment or two the man dropped what was left of it; I stooped—­so it seemed—­to pick it up; but he stopped me, and set his foot upon the beautiful thing!”

She sighed, and then hurried on.  “Saying something further, also reassuring, this angel brought forth another of the strange sticks; and when he had made this one bloom, he touched it to the little pile of leaves.  Behold, a greater miracle, Cunora!  The blossoms spread to the leaves, and caused them to bloom, too!”