Under Canvas; or, The Hunt for the Cartaret Ghost

by Captain Alan Douglas

Toby rubbed his eyes very hard, as though under the impression that they were playing him false; while George shoved up closer to the next in line, which happened to be Chatz, who bent over to stare into his face, as though eager to learn the condition of George's bold heart.

What could it be? Certainly no dog had anything to do with this new source of alarm, for it was tall, after the fashion of a man, and seemed to be dressed in white from head to foot.

Though they listened with all their might none of them could catch the sound of footfalls. If the mysterious object were a human being he must be barefooted to be able to move along without making a sound; while if it were a spirit, as doubtless most of them were ready to admit by now, of course there was not anything remarkable about the silent tread, because all spirits are able to project themselves through space without even a shivering sound—so those who deem themselves competent to judge tell us.

Elmer was perhaps also mystified more or less. Though he might know more about the secrets of the old house than any of his companions, still this particular manifestation was something he would like to have explained.

There was no use asking any of the other boys, because they were naturally much more shaken up than he could be, and hardly able to give any information. The only way to do was to go to headquarters for his knowledge of facts; in other words creep along the hall, keeping in the shadows, until he found himself close enough to learn the true nature of the "ghost."

That was what Elmer finally started to do. George managed to sense his going, and the gasp he gave voiced his apprehension, as well as his admiration for the bravery of his fellow scout.

"Stay here!" whispered the leader, in the lowest possible tone, which could not have penetrated more than two feet away, but was enough to warn the others that he did not wish them to follow when he crept away.

He went on hands and knees, picking out his shelter carefully as he advanced.

Five other fellows crouched there and continued to watch, first that puzzling white figure that noiselessly kept up its ceaseless parade back and forth, and then the creeping scout, slowly and carefully covering the space that separated him from the object under observation.

They did not know what to expect in the way of a shock; anything seemed liable to happen just then. George in particular was wondering if his scoffing remarks, so lately uttered, could have been overheard; and whether they would likely attract particular attention in his quarter. He also remembered what Chatz had said, while they were still near the tents, to the effect that it was always much easier running in the moonlight than when the pall of darkness lay upon things; not that George was contemplating a wild retreat, of course not, so long as the others stood their ground; but then it did no harm to be prepared like a true and careful scout, so that he would know just how he must leap through that open window if there arose a sudden necessity.