"How far is it to the beach?" inquired Mr. Brown, who had got pretty well thawed out by this time. "Eight long miles," replied Joe, "and the most of the way lies through the thickest woods that are to be found among these hills. I can't direct you so that you could keep a straight course, and indeed I don't think I could keep it myself on a dark night like this. You had better give up the idea of going there to-night, and stay here until morning." "You seem to have but one bed," said Mr. Brown, doubtfully. "Well, you may take that, and I'll look out for myself." Most men would have expressed their regrets that circumstances compelled them to trespass upon the young game-warden's The supper that Joe served up to his uninvited guest was plain but well cooked, and no sooner had it been disposed of than Mr. Brown threw himself upon the cot, boots and all, and speedily went off into the land of dreams. Joe spent the evening in looking over the books and papers with which Mr. Warren had provided him, and when his watch told him that it was ten o'clock, he lay down before the fire, with his coat for a pillow, and went to sleep. The first gray streaks of dawn that came in through the uncurtained window awoke him, but his guest still slumbered heavily, and Joe did not disturb him until he had made the coffee and slapjacks, and fried the bacon and eggs. Mr. Brown did not take the trouble to respond to the boy's hearty good-morning, but seated himself at the table, after performing a hasty toilet, and attacked the savory viands without ceremony. When he had eaten rather more than his share of them, his tongue became loosened, and he asked if it were possible for him to reach the Beach in time to take the stage for Bellville. Joe said it was, provided he did not waste too much time in making a start, and then he began railing at Brierly for the mean trick he had served him. "I wish I could prosecute him and compel him to give up my money," said he, "but I don't see that I can make out a case against him. More than that, I can't wait to go through a law-suit, and neither do I want to give Mr. Warren a chance at me. He might take a notion to have a hand in the business." "Very likely he would," said Joe, dryly. "You knew well enough that these grounds are posted, and you ought to have cleared out when you saw the first notice." "You will guide me to the Beach, of course?" said Mr. Brown, who did not appear anxious to discuss this point. "I will put you on the road, but I can't promise to go all the way with you," was Joe's reply. "I am paid to stay here." Mr. Brown was not quite satisfied with this arrangement—he was very much afraid that he might get lost again—but he was obliged to put up with it. An hour later, Joe stood by his father's wood-pile, taking a last look at his departing guest, who was hurrying down the dim wagon-road toward the valley below. All he had received in return for his services was a slight farewell bow. "I have seen a good many sportsmen first and last," thought the young game-warden, as he shouldered his rifle and retraced his steps down the mountain, "but Mr. Brown beats me. If he ever spends another night in my house, he will take off his boots before he goes to bed, and pay me in advance for his meals and lodging." Remembering the prowlers of whom Mr. He found them setting their house in order. A note of warning from Tom's little beagle brought them both to the door, where they remained until Joe came up. They were somewhat surprised at his actions. Instead of replying to their greetings, he leaned on the muzzle of his rifle and looked quizzically at them. "Halloa! What has come over you all of a sudden?" exclaimed Bob. Still Joe did not speak. He shut his left eye, and looked at Bob through the half-closed lids of the other. "What do you mean by that pantomime?" chimed in Tom. By way of reply, Joe shut his right eye and looked at Tom with the left; whereupon all the boys broke out into a hearty laugh. "Say," said Joe at length, "I wish you would tell me just how much you know about "What ghost?" asked Bob, staring hard at his friend Tom, and trying to look surprised. "Down where in what gorge?" inquired Tom, returning Bob's stare with interest. "Of course you don't know anything about it," said Joe, with a look which said that they knew all about it; "but if you are as ignorant as you pretend to be, why were you so anxious to keep me out of the gorge yesterday?" "Why—er—you see, we didn't want you to walk yourself to death for nothing," said Tom, wondering if Joe had anything better than mere suspicion to back him. "We knew there were a couple of fellows down there, for we heard them shoot, and we advised you to keep out of the gorge because we were satisfied that you couldn't catch them, and that it would be a waste of breath and strength for you to make the attempt." "Was that the only reason you had for giving me that advice?" asked Joe, with a "We never said so!" exclaimed both the boys, in a breath. "But the letter you wrote said so," insisted Joe. "And what do you think those trespassers did while they were there?" he continued, with great impressiveness. "They sent four charges of shot into the head of that ghost, which wasn't a ghost at all, if you only knew it." "Great Moses!" ejaculated Bob, who was really surprised now, as well as alarmed. The way in which Joe spoke was calculated to excite the gravest suspicions in his mind and Tom's. "Did—did they hit him?" Tom managed to ask. "I should say they did!" answered Joe, solemnly. "They could not miss him very "Was—was it a man?" Tom ventured to ask. "Animals don't generally have 'hants,' do they?" asked Joe, in reply. "There was a man there, and he howled and screamed—" "Oh, great Scott!" groaned Tom, while Bob rubbed his hands together, and gazed down the mountain, as if he were meditating instant flight. "And he kept it up after he received those four charges of shot in his head, and—" These words had a magical effect upon Tom and Bob, who were really afraid that their practical joke had resulted in a terrible tragedy. They looked at Joe so steadily that the latter could control himself no longer. He sat down on a convenient log, threw back his head, and laughed till the tears rolled down his cheeks. "You shot closer to the mark than you thought for when you made that letter say there was something in the gorge," said Joe, "Well," said Bob, who was immensely relieved by this sudden and unexpected turn of affairs, "we knew it. We went into the gorge day before yesterday, to catch a trout for dinner, and when we came home we followed the stream, thinking it would be easier than to climb up the bluff. That was the way we found it out. When we came to the place where we had located our robbers' cave our ears were saluted by such sounds as we never listened to before, but we didn't see anything." "What sort of an object was it that Dan shot at?" asked Tom, who was glad to see that Joe was not inclined to be angry over the trick that had been played upon his father and brother. "Was it a dummy?" "If it had been anything else I might have had a different story to tell you," was Joe's reply. "There are at least two outlaws in hiding there, and they have taken that way to make inquisitive hunters keep at a distance." "What makes you think there are two of them?" "Because Mr. Brown ran against two prowlers in the woods last night." "Who is Mr. Brown?" Joe replied that he was one of the men he had been obliged to order out of Mr. Warren's woods on the previous day, and then he went on to tell of the visit he had had from him the night before, and how frightened he was when he saw the man's face at the window. When he described how Brierly had managed to evade his employer's demand for the return of the twenty-five dollars that had been paid him, Tom and Bob laughed heartily, and declared that Brierly had served him just right. Joe did not neglect to tell how Mr. Brown had abused his hospitality, and his account of it aroused the ire of the two listeners, who declared that if that man ever got lost in their woods, he need not trouble himself to hunt up their cabin, for they would not take him in. "What kind of a looking thing was that dummy?" inquired Bob, coming back to the matter in which he was interested more than he was in Mr. Brown and his fortunes. Joe was obliged to confess that he could not answer that question, because Dan's description of the thing that he and his father shot at, surpassed all belief. Whether it was the appearance of the ghost itself, or the fact that the four loads of shot that had been fired at it had had no perceptible effect upon it, or the terrifying shrieks that awoke the echoes of the gorge—whether it was one or all of these that had frightened Silas into saying that he would not haul any more wood down from the mountain, Joe could not tell; but he thought those men ought to be made to give an account of themselves. If they had not violated the law in some way, why did they take so much pains to keep out of sight? "We were at first inclined to believe that some of the mischief-loving guests at the Beach had a hand in it," observed Tom. "When a lot of city people turn themselves loose in the country, they will go for "You mean that that was your explanation of it," corrected Bob. "I thought when the thing happened, that it was an outlaw who yelled at us until we were glad to get out of hearing of him, and I think so now." "So do I," said Joe. "And I shall hold fast to that opinion until we go down there and get at the bottom of the mystery. I am ready to start at once. What do you say?" |