The farmer shook his head. “Very bad business, that ghost. Look out he doesn’t turn up in your camp some night.”
With more jests about the ghost the cadets swung out of the yard and headed back toward camp, carrying their packages carefully.
“So there is a ghost on the Ridge, is there?” Thompson said to Jim.
“I’m not greatly surprised,” Jim said. “Most of these country places have room for at least one good ghost. They wouldn’t be quite happy if they didn’t.”
The colonel was pleased at their success and planned to buy more things from the farmer in the future. The provisions, with the exception of the canned goods which they had brought with them from school, had been all used up, for the invigorating outdoor life gave all the cadets ravenous appetites.
The cadets had been asleep perhaps two hours that night when a medley of shots rang out from post Number One, deep in the woods. As on the previous night the three boys hopped out of bed immediately.
“Golly, this is getting to be an epidemic,” snorted Terry.
“But this must be something different,” remarked Don. “I don’t hear any wagon crashing through the bushes.”
“There aren’t any more shots, either,” mentioned Jim.
Once outside the corporal of the guard brought in Douglas from the post. The colonel asked for a report.