The Ghost of One Man Coulee

By B. M. Bower Author of “The Happy Family Stories,” “Lonesome Land,” Etc.
Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the January 1, 1913 issue of The Popular Magazine .
The reappearance of Olafson, the violinist, who had gone out in the blizzard and was lost seeking the north wind that he might learn the song it sang, and who, according to Happy Jack, returned to earth on moonlight nights to play his violin in the doorway of the deserted shack in One Man Coulee.
Happy Jack, by some freak of misguided ambition, was emulating rather heavily the elfish imagination of Andy Green. He was—to put it baldly and colloquially—throwing a big load into the Native Son who jingled his gorgeous silver spurs close alongside Happy’s more soberly accoutered heel.
“That there,” Happy was saying, with ponderous gravity, “is the shack where the old fiddler went crazy trying to play a tune like the wind—or some blamed fool thing like that—and killed himself because he couldn’t make it stick. It’s haunted, that shack is. The old fellow’s ghost comes around there moonlight nights and plays the fiddle in the door.”
The Native Son, more properly christened Miguel, turned a languidly velvet glance toward the cabin and flicked the ashes from his cigarette daintily. “Have you ever seen the ghost, Happy?” he asked indulgently.
“Ah—yes, sure! I seen it m’self,” Happy lied boldly.
“And were you scared?”
“Me? Scared? Hunh!” Happy gave a fairly good imitation of dumb disgust. “Why, I went and—”
Happy’s imagination floundered in the stagnant pool of a slow-thinking brain.
“I went right in and—”
“Exactly.” Miguel smiled a smile of even, white teeth and ironical lips. “Some moonlight night we will come back here at midnight, you and I. I have heard of that man, and I am fond of music. We will come and listen to him.”