GHOSTS
Jack and Bob had to amuse Columbus with stories, to divert his mind from the notion that Pewee and his party meant them some harm. The Indian burying-ground was not an uncommon place of resort on Sundays for loafers and idlers, and now and then parties came from as far as Greenbank, to have the pleasure of a ride and the amusement of digging up Indian relics from the cemetery on the hill. This hill-top commanded a view of the Ohio River for many miles in both directions, and of the Kentucky River, which emptied into the Ohio just opposite. I do not know whether the people who can find amusement in digging up bones and throwing them down-hill enjoy scenery or not, but I have heard it urged that even some dumb animals, as horses, enjoy a landscape; and I once knew a large dog, in Switzerland, who would sit enchanted for a long time on the brink of a mountain cliff, gazing off at the lake below. It is only fair to suppose, therefore, that even these idle diggers in Indian mounds had some pleasure in looking from a hill-top; at any rate, they were fond of frequenting this one. Pewee, and Riley, and Ben Berry, and two or three others of the same feather, had come down on this Sunday to see the Indian Mound and to find any other sport that might lie in their reach. When they had dug up and thrown away down the steep hill-side enough bones to satisfy their jackal proclivities, they began to cast about them for some more exciting diversion. As there were no water-melon patches nor orchards to be robbed at this season of the year, they decided to have an egg-supper, and then to wait for the moon to rise after midnight before starting to row and cordelle their two boats up the river again to Greenbank. The fun of an egg-supper to Pewee’s party consisted not so much in the eggs as in the manner of getting them. Every nest in Judge Kane’s chicken-house was rummaged that night, and Mrs. Kane found next day that all the nest-eggs were gone, and that one of her young hens was missing also.
About dark, little Allen Mackay, a round-bodied, plump-faced, jolly fellow who lived near the place where the skiffs were landed, and who had spent the afternoon at the Indian Mound, came to the door of the old log-house.
“I wanted to say that you fellows have always done the right thing by me. You’ve set me acrost oncet or twicet, and you’ve always been ‘clever’ to me, and I don’t want to see no harm done you. You’d better look out to-night. They’s some chaps from Greenbank down here, and they’re in for a frolic, and somebody’s hen-roost’ll suffer, I guess; and they don’t like you boys, and they talked about routing you out to-night.”
“Thank you,” said Jack.
“Let ’em rout,” said Bob.
But the poor little Pet Owl was all in a cold shudder again.
About eleven o’clock, King Pewee’s party had picked the last bone of Mrs. Kane’s chicken. It was yet an hour and a half before the moon would be up, and there was time for some fun. Two boys from the neighborhood, who had joined the party, agreed to furnish dough-faces for them all. Nothing more ghastly than masks of dough can well be imagined, and when the boys all put them on, and had turned their coats wrong-side out, they were almost afraid of one another.
“Now,” said Riley, “Pewee will knock at the door, and when they come with their lantern or candle, we’ll all rush in and howl like Indians.”
“How do Indians howl?” asked Ben Berry.