The boy treasured up what had been told him about the ghost
fisherman, and although he had been taught at home that there were no
ghosts, every story of that nature interested him. One night he was
at the home of Uncle Bill Matney. It was about ten o'clock, and they
were all seated around the big fire that was roaring in the
fireplace. Uncle Bill was playing "Natchez Under the Hill" on the
fiddle, when suddenly they heard a horse coming on a dead run over
the rocky road that led toward the house. The fiddle stopped, and
everybody listened, and Uncle Bill said:
"That must be Little Jim Lynn. Nobody else is damn fool enough to
ride like that."
Pretty soon the horse stopped by the side of the house, and they
could all hear the saddle hit the ground, and then the bridle, after
which the horse trotted away and Little Jim stalked into the house.
As he pulled off his gloves and threw them in a corner, Uncle Bill
said:
"What the hell's the matter, Jim?"
And Jim said:
"O, nothing, only a damn ghost--saw him down on the bluff by Mark
Young's corner."
Jim was white as death, and everybody listened, but he didn't say
anything more until Uncle Bill said:
"War he beckonin', Jim?"
And Jim said:
"No, he warn't beckonin', but he was there just the same."
Uncle Bill tuned up his fiddle, and before he resumed playing, said:
"Well, if he warn't beckonin' it's all right."
Just at that point the boy broke in to inquire what difference it
made whether the ghost was beckoning, and two or three explained to
him that if a ghost beckoned to you that someone in your family would
die within a year.