I didn’t think so, either, so we went upstairs, chuckling like all-git-out. When we got there Plunk and Binney were sitting up shaking in bed so they almost threw the bed-clothes on the floor.
“What—what was that?” Binney says.
“That,” says I, “was the official ghost of Lake Ravona. Wasn’t he a peach?”
“Huh!” says Plunk. “Next time you want to have any ghosts yellin’ around, just let a feller know. I’ll bet you scared ten pounds off of me, and I ain’t so fat I could lose it like some folks I know.”
“No,” says Mark, who was pretty sensitive about his fat and didn’t like to have folks mentioning it—“no, you ain’t fat below the neck, but from there up there ain’t so m-m-much to say for you.”
“Is it our turn to watch?” says Binney.
“There won’t be any more watchin’ to-night,” says Mark. “The ghost’ll see to t-that.”
CHAPTER X
The next day passed without a sight of a single Japanese. Motu told us it was probably because the four were pretty badly scared by what happened the night before, and were waiting for The Man Who Will Come. He said the four were just sort of scrub Japs, full of superstitions and that sort of thing. But, says he, don’t expect any ghost dodges to frighten the other fellow. Motu’s idea was that the four would lay back and keep watch.
Motu stayed inside all day. Plunk and Binney fished. Mark pottered around on the island across his little lift-bridge, and I don’t know just what he was up to, though I found out later, and so did the Japanese. As for me, I was just plum lazy. I took one of the books Mark brought along—it was by a fellow named Stevenson, and was all about a man named Alan Breck and another called Davie Balfour—and read. I didn’t intend to read long, but I found out I’d got hold of the wrong kind of a book to quit. I couldn’t quit, and put in the whole day at it.