"I do," answered Manson, looking serious as the memory of that experience came back, "and I recall the next night, too, when we sat by the camp fire and swapped ghost stories, and you told me about a haunted island down here. Where is it?"
"Do you see that little patch of green away out beyond Spoon Island?" answered Frank, pointing seaward. "Well, that's the famous Pocket Island that I told you about, and the abiding-place of not only a bellowing bull's ghost, but lots of others as well. When we are likely to have a good spell of weather I am going to take you out there and" (with a laugh) "give you a chance to satisfy your mania for ghost hunting, for I believe that is one of your hobbies."
"Well, not so much as it was when we carried a musket," said Manson, "for I am not as superstitious as I was then. Still, I want to see your haunted island just the same and hear that strange noise. Is there a harbor there where we can run in?"
"Yes, and a queer freak of nature it is, too," answered Frank, "but I do not know the channel in, and would not dare to try to enter. All I can do is to wait for a fair day and lay outside while Obed takes you ashore."
That night when Manson had retired he lay awake a long time thinking over the interesting impressions made upon him by his visit, and especially the suggestion that he at some time should bring Liddy down here as his wife! That alone was such an entrancing thought that he could not go to sleep when he tried to. What a new world it would be to take her into, and what supreme delight to show her these beautiful islands and placid coves, and the bold cliffs at the foot of which the white-crested billows were beating! How he would enjoy seeing her open her big, blue eyes with wonder and sweet surprise at all the grand and beautiful bits of scenery and all the magic and mystery of the ocean, far removed from man!
"Some day I will bring her here," he thought, and then he fell asleep and dreamed he heard the ominous sound of some monster bellowing in anger.