At this moment, the sound of approaching hoof-beats could be plainly heard, and Drysdale turned his head to look back in the direction whence they came. On looking for the ghost again, it was nowhere to be seen.
"Andrews, it is gone—the earth has swallowed it up," he said.
He would have fallen from his horse, if Andrews had not caught him around the waist, and just as he did so, Mr. Breed and Mr. O'Fallon, the station agent, rode up, one on each side of them.
"What's the matter with Mr. Drysdale?" asked O'Fallon.
"Didn't you see it? Tell me—did the ghost pass you?" Drysdale queried eagerly, turning toward the new comers.
"What are you talking about? What do you mean by 'the ghost?'" asked Mr. Breed, in great wonderment.
"The ghost, I say—did neither of you see a horrible figure pass out of sight suddenly, toward the creek yonder?"
"I saw nothing, Mr. Drysdale," said O'Fallon; "did you, Breed?"
"Well, I don't know what Mr. Drysdale means by a ghost," said Breed, deliberately; "but I think I did see something down there. I couldn't say what it looked like. Why do you call it a ghost, Mr. Drysdale?"
"Because I have seen it twice close to me, and Mr. Andrews has not been able to see it at all," replied Drysdale with great difficulty. "I began to think it must have been imagination on my part, but now, that you have seen it, I know that it was a ghost."