THE CALL OF THE BANSHEE
The sunset has faded, there's but a tinge
Saffron pale, where a star of white
Has tangled itself in the trailing fringe
Of the pearl-gray robe of the summer night.
--JEAN BLEWETT.
By the time Gilbert had attended to his patients, and was returning
along the old corduroy road, the night had long fallen. The bird
chorus of the swamp had died away, and only the sweet note of the
little screech-owl awoke the echoes of the dark woods. Now and then a
gleam of spectral light through the trees showed where lay the waters
of the Drowned Lands. The young man tramped moodily along the pathway,
following the strip of pale sky between the black lines of trees. He
was thinking of Martin's last letter, in answer to the money he had
sent. It contained only the humblest thanks, with never a hint of past
suffering. He could see before him his old friend's honest, generous
face, with no reproach in it, and beside it another face, with its
golden-brown eyes full of sorrowful accusation.
He was aroused from his painful reflections by the appearance of a
point of light far down the dim roadway. It was not so much the light
itself that attracted his attention, as its strange movements. It
darted hither and thither, crossing and recrossing the road; now it
disappeared among the trees, now reappeared, and swung wildly to and
fro. Gilbert was reminded of the ghostly tales of the
will-o'-the-wisp, and the banshee, and other terrifying creatures,
which, village gossip said, inhabited the Drowned Lands. But he had a
more practical explanation of the strange phenomenon.
"If it isn't some other infernal agency," he said to himself grimly,
"I'm willing to take my oath that it's Jake Sawyer's eldest orphan
that's performing those queer dodges."
As he drew nearer, the light stood still, and he could discern two
forms, Tim, of course, and equally of course, his companion in
mischief, Davy Munn. They stood in the ring of light and gazed
apprehensively toward the approaching figure. "Hello!" called the
young man. "What are you two scamps doing down here at this hour of
the night?"
The boys' expression of fear changed to relief, and then to sheepish
apprehension. "Jist walkin' 'round," replied Davy vaguely, making a
poor attempt at his usual leisurely indifference.
"You've got a mighty queer method of taking exercise," said the doctor,
coming to a standstill in front of them. "Come, you might as well tell
me right out what you're up to."
"We--we lost somethin'," stammered the eldest orphan.
"What is it? Yourselves?"
The boys glanced at each other interrogatively. Should they make a
clean breast of their plight and enlist the doctor's help, or would it
be quite safe? Davy nodded acquiescence, and Tim burst forth:
"Aw, say! It ain't no joke. Somethin' fearful's happened. Me an'
Dave we rigged up a ghost down here to scare Sawed-Off when he was
comin' to stop--to see Ella Anne."
"He played lots o' mean tricks on us, you bet," put in Davy, for his
own safety.
"He didn't scare, though, worth a cent," complained the orphan, "an' he
saw us hidin' behind it, an' put after us"--in spite of his
perturbation the boy grinned at the remembrance of the exciting
chase--"an' we lost the ghost somewheres 'way back here, an' when we
got home, Dave's maw an' old Arabella Winters an' Elsie Cameron was all
over to your place, chewin' away like wildcats, 'cause it was
Arabella's weddin' dress we'd took for a ghost. Dave's maw'd been
makin' it. An' Elsie Cameron said we'd gotter find it, or when
Arabella's fella'd come he'd bust up somethin'!"
The doctor uttered a sharp exclamation.
"When is he coming?"
"I dunno," answered Tim wonderingly. "She never told us. Elsie
Cameron needn't 'a' got so mad, either," put in Davy aggrievedly. "It
was her put us up to it in the first place, 'cause Sawed-Off----"
"Shut up!" hissed his accomplice in his ear. "Don't you go an' blab it
all, now."
The culprits were anticipating at least a vigorous shaking for their
misdemeanor, and were filled with amazed relief when the doctor grasped
the lantern. "You two will end on the gallows yet," was all the
censure he vouchsafed. "Come along! We must find it! Now tell me
exactly where you started on this idiotic business."
The boys led the way with grateful alacrity. Fortune had indeed taken
a wonderful turn.
"My! Elsie Cameron was mad!" complained Davy, encouraged by the
doctor's cordial assistance. "An' she needn't 'a' been. It was all
her own fault. An' she up an' told maw that me an' Tim knew all about
old Arabella goin' to get married, an' that's a whoppin' lie,
'cause----"
"Hold your tongue!" cried the doctor, so fiercely that Davy collapsed
in scared silence, and gave his undivided attention to the trail of the
lost ghost.
They led the way through the tangle to the stump where the specter had
been enthroned. Some matches and a half-burned candle, dropped hastily
upon the moss, testified to the correctness of their discovery. Then,
taking the lantern, Tim led on through the dense underbrush, past black
pools of water, over fallen logs, and back to the road again, whither
they had fled from Sawed-Off's swift vengeance.
But the ghost had apparently vanished in true ghost fashion. Gilbert
took the lantern and carefully went over the ground again. With the
two boys close at his heels, he scrambled about, here and there,
pushing through the cedars, clambering over rotten tree-trunks, and
leaping pools of black water. They were soon deeper in the yielding
swamp than was quite safe, and the leader was forced to suggest
returning without their prize. He climbed upon a mossy stump, and
swung his lantern in a circle for a last survey. The light flashed far
into the wild, tangled wilderness, and revealed a white object hanging
over a low cedar. Tim gave a whoop of joy and pounced upon it.
"It's him! It's Mr. Ghost!" he shouted jubilantly. The rustle of silk
proclaimed that the specter still contained the wedding gown. The
doctor glanced over it in the light of the lantern; it was apparently
undamaged, except for a few spots of mud. To the boys' surprise, he
rolled it up with great care and bundled it under his arm.
"Come, now, let's get back," he said, with a look of pleased relief.
"And look out where you jump. If either of you young Turks tumbles in,
I'll leave you for the banshee, and serve you right!"
They were standing for a moment, looking for the best way to retrace
their steps, when out of the black silence behind them there came a
faint, far-off cry.
Tim clutched the doctor's coat. Davy turned white.
"Wha'--what's that?" they whispered together.
The three stood motionless, listening, and again the sound arose. It
came from the far-off edge of the Drowned Lands, faint, and full of
agony, like a human voice calling for help.
"The _banshee_!" whispered Tim in terror.
"Oh, Lord save us!" groaned Davy.
In spite of his concern, Gilbert laughed. "It's somebody caught in the
mud, you young idiots!" he cried. "Listen!"
Once more the cry came floating out, terrible in its appeal. "Help,
h-e-l-p!" it called faintly.
Davy gave a leap. "That's her! That's the banshee!" he gasped. "Come
on! _Run_! It always calls folks like that--into the Drowned
Lands--an' they never come back! _Run_!"
"Shut up, you fool!" cried Gilbert sharply. "Listen to me. You two
get back to the road as quickly as you can. Come! I'll show you out
with the light."
"Are--are you goin' after her?" whispered Davy, horror-stricken.
"Of course! Look here! I thought you two fellows had a little more
snap in you than to get scared at a man calling for help."
"I'll go with you an' pull him out," cried Tim, stung into valor by
this crushing remark.
"Me, too!" cried Davy with a gulp. It was awful to contemplate
following that ghostly voice away into the death trap of the Drowned
Lands; but it was worse to remain there alone.
"No; you'd likely get mired, and cause more trouble. Get back to the
road, quick, and wait for me there. If I need your help, I'll call."
The cry arose again, this time fainter and more agonized. "Hurry!"
cried the young man. "Here, Tim! Take this, and don't lose it again,
for the life of you!"
He handed the boy the wedding dress, and hurried them forward until
they were beyond the perilous area of the swamp. There he left them,
and turning, plunged back into the woods.
Through the dense tangle, leaping from moss-clump to fallen log, he
forced his way, the lantern, like a swaying will-o'-the-wisp, now
casting a red splash on the surface of a pool, now leaving it in
blackness, to light up a new circle of vine and stump and riotous
undergrowth.
The two left behind stood for a moment gazing after him in terrified
dismay. While he was with them his scorn of their fears, and his
practical explanation of the dread sound, had acted like a stimulant;
but now that they were left alone in the darkness they gave way to
their worst apprehensions. He was gone! Gone straight to his doom, at
the call of that luring voice, as so many before him had gone! And no
one ever came back! Davy sank to the ground in a sobbing heap. Tim,
more inured to disaster, stood silent, his small face white and
fear-stricken.
Suddenly he flung himself upon his companion and clutched him by the
hair. "Le's tell the folks! They'll save him! Le's tell daddy an'
Spectacle John an' John McIntyre! They'll come an' bring him back!"
He was already tearing up the road in the direction of the village, and
all his languor put to flight by his fears, Davy came flying after him.
In an incredibly short time they burst upon the Cameron milkstand,
gasping out the appalling news that the banshee had got the doctor, and
he was being murdered in the Drowned Lands!