“That one,” went on Ned, pointing to it. “There may be room in it.”
“Oh I reckon there’s room enough,” replied the colored man, “only—well to tell you th’ truff, boss, it ain’t exackly healthy t’ sleep in that cabin, er even t’ talk about it. ’Scuse me but I don’t want even t’ look at it.”
“Why not?”
The colored man seemed to hesitate. He fidgeted and seemed ready to go back into his house.
“Why not?” asked Ned again.
“Kase it’s—it’s got ghosts an’ it’s hanted!” exclaimed the negro, “an’ it ain’t safe fer any one to go near it, let alone sleep in it.”
“Nonsense,” remarked the professor. “There are no such things as ghosts.”
“Yo’ wouldn’t say so if yo’ went to that there cabin after dark,” persisted the colored man. “’Tain’t safe t’ talk about it, so yo’ll please ’scuse me.”
“But what sort of a ghost is it?” asked Jerry.
“It’s big an’ it’s white, an’ it rattles chains an’ groans sumthin’ turrible,” said the negro.