THE GHOST HAS ITS PICTURE TAKEN.
Through the stillness of the night came a cry. At first Bob thought it
was a wildcat, but, as it was repeated a moment later, he knew that he
was mistaken. No animal with which he was acquainted ever made a sound
like that. Beginning in a low note, which sounded like the rumble of
distant thunder, it rose in pitch as it increased in volume until its
shrillness seemed to reach almost to the breaking point, then it slowly
died away in a wail indescribable in its weirdness.
"What in the name of goodness can it be," he thought as he listened.
Soon it came again and now it sounded nearer. A slight sound of the
movement of bodies in the bunks told Bob that he was not the only one
who was listening, and a shudder of fear permeated him. Not fear caused
by the cry itself, but fear of the effect it would have on the men. None
knew better than he the fickle nature of those men, brought up as they
had been, on the lore of ghostly legends of the north country.
Six times the cry was repeated and each time it seemed nearer, and now
he knew that a good part of the men were awake, although none of them
had gotten out of his bunk, fearing probably that he would be called a
coward by someone. There is nothing which these hardy woodsmen so hate
as a taint of cowardice, and many a one has gone to his death rather
than refuse a dare.
For a long time Bob lay in his bunk and listened, but after the sixth
time the cry was not repeated, and finally the cessation of the sound of
movements in the various bunks told him that most if not all of the men
had fallen asleep again.
"Did you hear it?" Jack whispered to Bob, as they were dressing the next
morning.
"Sure, but don't say a word to anyone," Bob cautioned. "We'll talk it
over with Tom later when we're alone."
No mention of the matter was made at breakfast table, but both boys were
quick to sense an air of uneasiness among the men, and later, as he
caught the eye of the foreman, the latter shook his head as much as to
say that he feared the outcome. All that day Bob and Jack worked with
the men, felling the great spruces, but although they tried hard to joke
and laugh as usual with them, the Frenchmen, almost to a man, lacked
that joyous spontaneity of spirit so characteristic of them when
everything was to their liking.
They had had no opportunity for more than a word with Tom Bean, as he
had left, immediately after breakfast, for Greenville. He was back,
however, when they returned to camp, as dusk was beginning to fall; and,
standing in the doorway of the office, he motioned for them to join him.
"Byes," he began, as soon as he had closed the door, "how did the men
act the day?"
"As though they were much worried," Bob replied. "They didn't talk about
it even among themselves as far as I could see, but I know that some of
them at least are scared, although they are trying hard not to show it.
I reckon that howling last night on top of Devaux's yarn has got their
goat."
"Sure an' it's meself thot's afraid so," and Tom rubbed his chin
thoughtfully. "Sumpin's got ter be done and mighty sudd'n too or we'll
lose men thot's sartin sure."
At that moment a loud knock sounded on the door.
"Come in," the foreman shouted.
The door opened and a giant by the name of Baptist Goulet, followed by
two others, entered the office. It was at once apparent that the men
were ill at ease as they stood just inside the doorway holding their
caps in nervous fingers and keeping their eyes on the floor.
"Well, what is it, Baptist?" Tom asked, after he had waited for the man
to speak.
Even then the spokesman, Baptist, hesitated. "We--we lak our time," he
stammered.
Tom Bean showed no surprise. It was what he had expected, though not
quite so soon.
"Ye mane yer want to quit?" he asked.
"Oui, we queet," the man said, and the others nodded assent.
"What's wrong?" the foreman demanded. "Grub no good?"
"Grub, she ver' bon."
"Work too hard? Wages too small?"
Again the man shook his head.
"Work no hard, pay, she ver' bon, but camp, she got haunt. Devaux, him
see it. We hear eet las' night. Stay here mebby all die ver' queek."
As the man finished speaking Tom burst out in violent laughter, though
it was evident to the boys that he was forcing it.
"Sure an' it's three old wimin ye are, to be scared away from a good job
by a bit of noise. Thar's no haunt here at all an' we're goin' ter prove
it. Now listen ter me. I'm a goin' ter make a spache tonight at
suppertime, an' if yer want yer time after thot come ter me an' ye'll
git it."
"It's mighty plain thot idjet of a Devaux's bin talking," he said as
soon as the men had left the office. "Sure an' it's a wonder ter me thot
more of 'em didn't come. I've got ter make the spache of me life tonight
or thar'll be doin's afore morning, I'm thinkin'."
The most of the men had finished their supper when Tom Bean rose from
his seat at the head of the table and pounded on his plate with his
knife. Instantly the talking stopped and he began:
"Men, thar's bein' some doin's round the camp thot I know well is
gettin' under some o' yer hides. I know that Devaux saw sumpin last
night cause I saw it a few night ago, but it wasn't no ghost. It's jest
somebody tryin' ter scare ye away," and he told them all about the
contract which Mr. Golden had and how Big Ben Donahue was trying to
prevent him from completing it.
"How you know dat no ghost, by gar?" Baptist asked from his seat near
the farther end of the table.
The foreman laughed. "Did yez iver hear of inyone takin' a picture of a
ghost?" he asked, looking about the table.
Evidently no one had, and after a moment's pause he continued:
"Well, thin, thot's jest what these boys are a goin' ter do. They've
rigged up a picture machine an' the nixt time thot ghost comes round
it'll git its picture took, an' thot'll prove thot it ain't no ghost at
all. Fer why? Because first thar ain't no sech animal, an' second
because if there was he'd not show in a picture, cause he rally ain't
thar at all at all."
As he finished it was evident that, although the men were not entirely
convinced, they were at least somewhat easier in their minds.
"But we hear cry of haunt las' nicht, by gar," declared a little
Frenchman who sat at Tom's right. "What you tink of heem, heh?" and
without waiting for an answer to the question, he went on. "I hear day
cry many years ago way up north an' een less'n week ten men die, oui, by
gar, they all die, they didn't go ver' queek."
"We'll find out who's makin' thot noise all right," he answered somewhat
evasively; then as he saw that they did not seem to respond to his
words, he added, "Jest ye lave thot to me an' the byes here an' if we
don't put a end to it the nixt time it starts, sure an' ye kin all have
yer time an' welcome."
"Begorra, an' I had ter make it strong," Tom told the boys as soon as
they were back in the office. "An' now it's up ter us ter make good, but
it's meself thot dunno how it's ter be did."
"We'll have to find some way, but just now I'm hoping that his ghostship
will show up to night." Bob had hardly spoken when Jack grabbed him by
the arm.
"There it is! Look quick!" he whispered, pointing out of the window.
"It's no wonder that Devaux was scared to death."
In the dim light of the stars a most grewsome apparition appeared to be
executing some kind of a dance in the spot where Tom had first seen it.
Not less than seven feet tall the body, which was but dimly visible, was
surmounted by an immense head which stood out more distinctly than the
rest of the object. It closely resembled a human skull, and the large
cavities which served as eyes glowed with a bright phosphorescent light.
Not for an instant was it still, and its long arms waved up and down as
it danced, while every now and then it would leap several feet into the
air.
"It's a peach all right," Bob declared, as he touched together two
pieces of wire.
Instantly there was a blinding flash just back of the "ghost."
"Come on now, make it snappy!" Bob shouted, as he sprang for the door.
Tom and Jack followed on his heels but, quick as they were, every
vestige of the "ghost" had vanished by the time they were outside.
"Sure an' what do yez know about thot?" Tom asked a moment later, as
they searched in vain for tracks all about the place where the
apparition had appeared.
"Well, I'll bet we've got a good picture anyhow," Bob said as he took
the camera from its hiding place. "I'll warrant his ghostship wasn't
quick enough to fool the lens."
By this time most of the men were out in the clearing, having seen the
flash. They were standing in groups talking excitedly but in low tones.
Baptist met Bob as he carried the camera back to the office, where he
had all arrangements made for quickly developing the plate.
"You no geet dat ghost, heh?" he asked.
"No, but you bet I've got his picture here," Bob assured him. "You just
wait ten minutes and I'll show it to you," and followed by Jack he
rushed into the office while the foreman remained outside talking with
some of the men.
"If we didn't hit it it's all over but the shouting," Bob declared as he
dipped the film into the hypo solution.
"I guess you're right there, they'd never wait to give us another
chance," Jack agreed as he anxiously watched the film.
"Hurrah! We've got it all right," he shouted a moment later, as Bob held
the film up for inspection, "and it's a dandy too."
Without waiting for it to dry, they rushed out and in another moment
were displaying the result of their effort to Tom and Baptist, who, at
the moment, happened to be talking together.
"Oui, by gar, you geet heem all reichte," the latter declared as he held
up the film for others to see.
The picture went far in restoring the confidence of the crew, but Tom
and the boys well knew that the remembrance of that weird cry in the
night had by no means left their minds.
It was some two hours later when Tom and the boys were once more in the
office discussing the situation. They had passed the interval with the
men in the bunk house trying to get them in better spirits. Bob had
taken out his guitar and led them in singing as he often did, but it was
easy to see that the hearts of the men were not in the songs. There was
still a strain and the very air of the room seemed laden with
uncertainty. Earlier than usual the men began, one by one, to slip into
their bunks and by eight-thirty only a half dozen were sitting about the
stoves. Earlier in the evening Tom had made another short speech in
which he told them that in case they heard the cry again they were not
to be alarmed.
"Me an' the byes are sure a goin' ter find out what made it afore
mornin' and don't yer fergit it," he assured them.
He would have called for volunteers but he well knew that, although
anyone of them would risk his life for a much less reason against any
physical danger, it would be next to impossible to persuade them to go
far from the bunk house that night.
"Now it's up to us," Bob declared, as he thrust a stick into the stove
and drew up his chair.
"Ye're right me lad," Tom agreed, as he too sat down. "Sure an' ye got a
fine picture of the ghost but yer can't take a picture of a yell so ye
can't, bad luck to it."
For a few minutes there was silence, each being busy with his own
thoughts. Then suddenly Bob stood up and, turning his back to Jack,
said:
"Jack, will you kindly kick me good and hard where you think it will do
the most good?"
"What's the main idea?" Jack asked in a surprised tone.
"The main idea," Bob replied, quickly turning around, "is that I'm all
kinds of a doughhead. Here I've been racking my brains, or rather the
place where they ought to be, for hours trying to figure out how the
ghost got there without leaving any tracks, and it's as plain as the
nose on your face."
"Hum--mighty complimentary to Tom and me. Suppose you elucidate, my dear
Holmes," and Jack looked at his brother as though daring him to do his
worst.
"I can show you better than I can tell you," Bob said, as he grabbed up
his cap and took a flashlight from the desk. "Come on," he called, as he
threw open the door, and they lost no time in following him.
At either side of the place where the "ghost" had appeared was a large
spruce tree. As they reached the spot Bob did not hesitate but, giving a
leap, was quickly among the branches of the tree to the right.
"Come up here both of you," he called a minute later, throwing the light
from his flash down to them.
Quickly Tom and Jack joined him, about fifteen feet from the ground.
"Now do you see?" he asked, throwing the rays about him.
In many places twigs had been broken from the branches, evidence that
someone had been there before them.
"And look at this," Bob continued, pointing to a piece of string which
had caught on a branch. "And here's a piece of cloth which tore off when
he pulled the ghost in," he declared, picking a bit of white cheese
cloth from where it had caught on a broken stub. "Do you know that
fellow must have been hiding right here all the time we were hunting
round down there."
"Be jabbers, an' yer right all right," Tom declared, as he stared at the
evidence.
"But how did he get away?" Jack asked, as though certain that he had him
stuck at last.
"That wasn't hard," Bob replied. "He just waited here till we had all
gone back and then he crept along that limb to the next tree. You can
see that he could do it all right. Then he dropped into that thick clump
of bushes there and made off. I'll bet we'll find his tracks there all
right, you see if we don't."
Bob was right, for when they had climbed down and gone around to the
other side of the bushes there were tracks a plenty.
"And to think that we never thought of looking here," Jack groaned as he
gazed at footprints.
"You see he had that thing on a string which was tied to that tree
opposite and all he had to do to make it dance was to pull on the string
a bit and a harder pull would make it bounce up higher in the air. Then
all he had to do when he wanted it to disappear was to give a yank and
break the string near the other tree and pull it in. Of course he had
phosphorus smeared on the eyes," he explained, as they made their way
slowly back to the office.
"What time was it when that howling began last night," Tom asked as he
replenished the fire.
"Just eleven o'clock," Bob replied. "I looked at my watch just before I
heard it."
"Thin it's mor'n likely it'll begin about the same time ternight."
"I suppose so. What's your plan, Tom?"
"Well now," and Tom rubbed his chin reflectively. "'Tis not aisy ter
tell the direction of a noise like that in the night, but I'm a thinkin'
it came from the south all right an' it warn't mor'n about a half a mile
away when it started, so I don't see iny other way but for us ter go out
thar in the woods an' jest wait an' trust ter luck. It's prutty cold an'
it ain't a goin' ter be no picnic, but I gess we'll have ter be after
doin' it."
"I guess you're right," Bob agreed as he pulled out the checker board
and began to arrange the men.
They played until the clock told them that it was half-past ten and then
Tom announced that it was time to start.
It was ten below and although the stars gave a faint light in the
clearing, as soon as they were among the trees it was so dark that they
could hardly see a dozen feet ahead. They did not of course dare to use
their flashlights, for fear that the man would be scared off and they
did not want to have to repeat the experience. There was no wind and no
sound, save the slight creaking of the snow beneath their snow-shoes, to
break the stillness of the night.
"Don't you think we've gone about far enough?" Bob whispered. "It's ten
minutes to eleven."
"I gess so, but we'll have ter kape moving about ter kape from frazing,"
Tom replied as he vigorously swung his arms about his body.
"Freezing is right," repeated Jack, as he too began to swing his arms.
"It's cold enough to freeze the hair off a bald man's head."
"Sis-s-h," Bob cautioned. "It's so dark that fellow might be within a
few feet of us without us seeing him, and if he hears us talking we'll
likely have this job to do all over again."
For some minutes after that no one spoke. They kept moving about but did
not separate more than a few feet from each other.
"It's about time for the concert to begin," Bob declared as he stepped
close to Jack. "It's five minutes past eleven."
"I should think----" Jack began, but stopped suddenly as a low sighing
sound as if the wind was rustling the leaves of the trees came to their
ears.
"Listen, I guess it's begun," Bob declared as he turned his head
slightly.
Rapidly the sound increased in volume and in pitch, and in spite of
himself a shudder ran through his body.
"He's a peach all right, whoever he is," Jack whispered.
"Sure an' he's right over to the right of us an' not mor'n three hundred
fate away," Tom declared as the cry ceased. "Follow me now and make it
aisy," he ordered as he swung off to the right, closely followed by the
two boys.
They had gone but a few feet when the cry began again, and now it was
considerable nearer.
"He's a comin' this way," Tom whispered, as he stopped in his tracks.
"Get behin' thot big tree an' we'll wait fer him."
"It doesn't seem possible that a sound like that could come from human
lips," Bob whispered, as they waited. "I don't wonder that the man
thought it was the devil. There he goes again," as for the third time
the weird notes ran through the stillness of the night.
"And he's getting pretty close too," Jack whispered, as he tried to
pierce the darkness with his eyes.
Probably five minutes elapsed before the cry came again, and they were
beginning to fear that the man had given it up for the night. But
suddenly it began again and now it was so near that they were certain
only a few feet separated them. Bob was about to whisper to Tom, who was
crouching directly in front of him, when the Irishman, without warning,
let out a yell that so far as volume was concerned, at least rivaled the
other's cry. At the instant he sprang forward and before the boys could
recover from their surprise he was swallowed up by the darkness.