“Shut up,” says the other. “Hain’t it bad enough and lonesome enough here in the dark without havin’ you harp on ghosts?”
“Well, facts is facts. If it’s pirate treasure we’re after, you can calc’late on ghosts.”
“The’ hain’t no sich thing as a ghost.”
“Mebby not—mebby so.... As fur’s I’m concerned, I hain’t makin’ no mock of ghosts. I’ve seen ’em.”
“G’wan.”
“With starin’ eyes of fire, a-lettin’ out awful groans,” says the man. “I hope I never see the like agin.”
“Honest Injun?”
“As sure’s I’m standin’ here. And that there ghost chased me nigh onto a mile, with me runnin’ so’s I most left my hair behind.... Ghosts is turrible things.”
“I wisht you’d shut up.”
“With starin’ eyes of fire,” says the man, “and them groans. I dunno but what the groans was the wust part.”