PIPER MEETS THE GHOST.

Trembling violently, Piper looked in vain for the missing boat. For a moment or two he thought it possible he had made a mistake, and that this was not the place where he had landed; but further investigation convinced him against his will that the boat had been left there. The cause of its disappearance he could not understand, and for the time being he was too excited to reason about it. Had he been calmer, he might have become convinced that it had not drifted away of its own accord.

Twilight was enfolding the eastern shore of the lake, and, gazing yearningly in that direction, Sleuth saw the gleam of a light, which he felt certain came from the campfire on Pleasant Point. Doubtless his companions were there, all unaware of his frightful predicament, and even if he were to shout they might not respond. Hearing wild cries coming faintly across the lake, was it not possible, nay probable, that they would consider it in the nature of another “manifestation” from the haunted island? And should he fire his gun, would that bring them? At once he remembered, with a sensation of reprehension over his own neglect, that he had failed to take a supply of loaded cartridges, the two in the gun being the only ones in his possession. Were he to discharge them, he would be left practically unarmed upon the island.

“I can’t do that,” he whispered tremulously. “I can’t fire even one shot, for, if I should have to shoot at anything with the other barrel and I missed, I’d be in a dreadful fix. Oh, what’s become of that boat? What a fool I was to land here alone!”

In a feverish, unreasoning way he began hurrying pantingly along the shore, looking for the boat. This was a silly thing to do, but in a time of great excitement or distraction he is a remarkably self-possessed person who does not lose his head and do something foolish.

In order to follow the shore line of the island, Piper was compelled, at one spot where a low bluff rose directly from the water’s edge, to enter the border of the stunted pines which crowded close to the very brink of the bluff. He hesitated for a moment and drew back, shuddering; but almost immediately, holding the gun ready for use, he went forward, crouching low beneath the thick trees.

A sigh of relief was on his lips, and he was about to step forth again upon the open beach when, with a sudden tremendous jerk of every nerve in his body, he stopped. Barely more than thirty feet away he beheld a canoe that was raising scarcely a ripple on the lake as it glided slowly and silently toward the island. And it was not at all remarkable that the sight of the occupants of that canoe should mightily startle the boy who crouched in the pines.

In the prow of the canoe, apparently waiting to spring ashore, stood a huge, shaggy, gray dog. A man wielded the paddle—a man whose face was almost hidden by a long white beard, and whose garments, from the hat upon his head to the shoes he wore, were in color snowy white. In that moment it must have seemed to Piper that he surely beheld the ghosts of Old Lonely and his faithful dog.

Gently the canoe touched the gravelly beach, the dog leaping out at once. The man followed and turned to grasp a thwart, with the evident intention of pulling the canoe up.

A twig snapped beneath Piper’s feet as he stepped out of the pines and straightened up, the gun lifted to his shoulder and levelled, although it trembled and wavered in his grasp. Both man and dog heard that faint snapping sound. The former whirled quickly, while the latter bristled and growled.

“Stand still!” cried Sleuth chokingly. “Stand where you are, or I’ll shoot! Keep your dog off, if you don’t want him riddled!”

Growling, with its teeth exposed, the dog seemed ready to spring at the boy, but instantly the creature’s master spoke.

“Here, Bob,” he said sharply. “Steady, sir! Down! down!”

The creature obeying its master’s commands, Sleuth felt his courage rise with a sudden bound, although his tremendous excitement was not in the least abated. With an air of perplexed dismay the man remained standing at the water’s edge, his eyes fastened on the threatening figure of the boy. In that manner they gazed at each other for a few moments of intense, nerve-tingling silence. Presently the man spoke.

“Put down that gun,” he said. “If it’s loaded, you’re liable to make a mistake and shoot me.”

Exultantly Piper retorted:

“If you’re a ghost, it won’t hurt you to be shot; and if you’re not a ghost, you’d better explain your actions mighty quick.”

“Put down the gun,” repeated the man angrily. “I’m no ghost.”

“Ah!” breathed Sleuth in tremendous satisfaction; and he lowered the gun.

“What are you doing here?” questioned the person in white.

“Perhaps I was looking for you,” was the answer.

Beneath his breath the man muttered a word or two, smothered, but expressive of great annoyance and anger. The dog whined questioningly. Master of the situation, Piper waited, all the chill having gone from his body.

“I suspected you, you young rascal—I suspected you when you came prowling around my cabin,” said the man. “You were rather clever with your excuses and your pretence of great interest in my literary work, but I couldn’t help feeling that you had a hidden design.”

“Your premonition was correct, Mr. Granger,” said Sleuth. “Your glibness, when you visited us at Pleasant Point, in spinning the romantic story of Lovers’ Leap and the fantastic tale of the haunted island aroused my suspicions. You told those yarns altogether too well. That’s a beautiful Santa Claus set of whiskers you’re wearing.”

The man stroked his beard and laughed shortly, in spite of himself.

“Up to date they have served my purpose very well,” he returned; “but henceforth, as your remarkable cleverness has led you to catch on to the little game, I suppose I’ll have little use for them.”

“Your dog,” declared the triumphant boy, “was a dead give-away. You must have kept him tied up the most of the time, but when I saw him and noted his color, on the occasion of my friendly call upon you, I decided instantly that he would appear very well as a spook dog if seen in the darkness or through the twilight of evening. I’ve watched you every day since then, waiting for you to come here. At last my vigilance has been fully rewarded.”

“Well, now,” said Mr. Granger, for the man in white was indeed the somewhat seclusive young author, “you might come down here and give me a hand with the canoe. It’s light, and I can pull it up alone, as I have many times, but I’m not adverse to your assistance.”

“The dog——”

“He won’t touch you. He’s the most harmless creature in the world.”

Piper descended at once, and together the man and boy lifted the light canoe, bore it across the narrow strip of beach and slid it into the shelter of some bushes, where it was entirely hidden from sight.

“Now,” said Granger, “if you wish a little amusement, I’ll show you how easy it is to make intelligent people believe in ghosts. It’s about time for a party from the hotel to come off in a boat with the keen desire of beholding the spirits of Old Lonely and his dog. They will approach the western side of the island. Come on.”

His nerves no longer quivering, Piper followed the man and the dog, chuckling to himself. All his fears of the black and gloomy pines had been dispelled, and it was with real difficulty that he kept from dancing and shouting. What would his friends say when he told them? He swelled tremendously with pride and self-importance as he pictured the manner in which he would unfold to them the story of his amazing discernment and sagacity. Surely, it would be an hour of triumph.

By the easiest available course Granger led the way to the western side of the island, pausing well within the shelter of the trees, yet selecting a place where he could command a view of the open lake in the immediate vicinity. The lights of the hotel shone brightly at the base of Lovers’ Leap. A gentle purple dusk was thickening upon the face of the water.

“They ought to appear within ten minutes,” said Granger in a low tone. “I want you to keep out of sight all the time, and I hope you’ll promise not to let them know by word or sign that you are here.”

“Go ahead,” said Sleuth. “I won’t expose you to them, and I’m really eager to watch the sport. But how do you know anyone is coming?”

“I received a message from the hotel, telling me that some of the guests would come out tonight to look for Old Lonely’s spirit. One of the bell hops brought me the message.”

“Oh, yes,” giggled Sleuth; “I saw him. I was watching your sylvan retreat when he brought that message, but I thought it was one of your stories returned from a publisher.”

“You’ve certainly put yourself to a lot of trouble,” muttered Granger. “As a doubting Thomas or Billy, you’re the real thing.”

In a few moments they heard the distant sound of oars and the low murmur of voices, and it was not long before, in the midst of the gloom, they beheld a dark object slowly drawing near, and knew it was the boat from the hotel.

“Now,” said Granger softly, “keep perfectly still and watch me materialize.”

He waited until the boat seemed to pause some rods from the shore. It contained a number of persons, whose words could be distinctly heard. One man was laughing in a boasting way as he told the others that it was all a ridiculous piece of folly, but a nervous, excited woman was begging him to keep still.

Crouching, Granger put his hand on the dog, whispering a command:

“Sing, Bob—sing.”

Immediately the animal lifted its muzzle and gave vent to the most doleful howling imaginable. Within four feet of the creature, Piper felt a momentary symptom of the emotion that had possessed him on the occasion when his ears were first greeted by that awesome sound.

From the boat there came sudden little exclamations and screams, both masculine and feminine.

“I told you!” one of the ladies was heard repeating triumphantly. “I’ve heard it before. Now watch; you’ll see something more.”

“Good boy, Bob,” whispered Granger, rising. “Easy, sir. Come.”

Very deliberately and very slowly he stepped forth from the darkness of the pines. In truth, he moved so slowly that at a distance, seen through the darkness, it might have seemed that he simply appeared, without taking any steps at all. Imitating his master, the dog likewise advanced until both stood out in view, with the dark trees as a background.

Still more excited exclamations rose from the party in the boat.

“There he is—there’s Old Lonely’s ghost!” palpitated the lady’s voice. “There’s his dog, too! See! see!”

“Let’s get nearer. Let’s land,” suggested a man. But, somehow, there was a false note in his words, which seemed to betray that he was not as eager to put his feet on the island as he wished the others to think him.

“I wouldn’t do it for all the money in the world,” declared the lady. “We’re near enough. Don’t move another inch toward that island.”

For thirty seconds, perhaps, Granger stood quite still; and then, stepping backward, he retreated as slowly, silently and deliberately as he had advanced; and in this manner he must have made it seem to the occupants of the boat that he actually faded and vanished from their view like a wraith. The dog also retreated slowly, although it turned about to do so.

“Great work,” chuckled Piper, as Granger crouched beside him. “But what if they do land?”

“They won’t,” was the whispered assurance. “They’ll go away directly.”

He was right. After lingering a few minutes, as if desiring again to see the “ghost,” the party in the boat rowed away, their oars clanking in the locks.