Jennie gave one frightened look through the window and immediately clapped her palms over her eyes.
“Ow!” she wailed in muffled tones. “They’re coming back.”
They were, indeed! Three white figures in Indian file came stalking up the long dock. They approached the camp in a spectral procession and had she been awakened to see them first of all, Ruth might have been startled herself.
Helen peered over her chum’s shoulder and in teeth-chattering monotone breathed in Ruth’s ear the query:
“What is it?”
“It—it’s Heavy’s ghost.”
“Not mine! Not mine!” denied the plump girl.
“Oh!” gasped Helen, spying the stalking white figures.
It was the moonlight made them appear so ghostly. Ruth knew that, of course, at once. And then——
“Who ever saw ghosts carrying garbage cans before?” ejaculated the girl of the Red Mill. “Mercy me, Heavy! do stop your wailing. It is the chef and his two assistants who have got up to dump the garbage on the out-going tide. What a perfect scare-cat you are!”