“I hearn a voice but I didn’t see nobody,” Mistah Mule explained. “That’s the way with ghostses. An’ if you sees ’em, you doesn’t hear ’em.” He shivered slightly as he spoke, although the weather was by no means cold.
“Have you ever seen one?” Master Meadow Mouse asked him.
“N—no! Can’t say as I has,” answered Mistah Mule. “But my mammy, ’way down South, she tell me all ’bout ’em.”
“I never heard of such things as ‘ghostses’ before,” said Master Meadow Mouse. “But now I think I must have heard one about a minute ago. I was asleep over there under that bush. And there was the queerest sound. That’s what brought me here. I came to find out what it was.”
“Was it a dreadful, hollow noise?” Mistah Mule asked him.
“Yes! Yes!”
“Sound like somebody tormented?”
“Yes! Yes!”
Mr. Mule nodded wisely. “It certainly was a ghost,” he declared. “Queer I didn’t notice it. I been right here quite a while. Kin you make a noise like it?”
“I’ll try,” Master Meadow Mouse replied. And he gave a funny, squeaky hee-haw!