"The ghost! The ghost!" yelled Roger. "It's coming for us!" And he began to run back.
Shadow gave a scream of terror and started to run also. As if by accident, Dave allowed his foot to trip the boy up, and down went the story-teller of the Hall on his face in the snow.
"Hi! hi! Don't leave me behind!" he bawled, as the others all ran. "Don't leave me!" and he scrambled up and tore along through the brushwood as if possessed. The others speedily halted and set up a shout of laughter, at which Shadow looked very sheepish.
"I—I only ran for the fun of the thing," he explained, lamely. "I knew all along there wasn't a ghost."
"Shadow shall lead the way," said Dave. "Go ahead, old fellow."
"I—er—I don't know the path," was the quick excuse. "You go on." And Shadow dropped behind once more and stuck there during the remainder of the trip.
The cabin was built of rough logs. It had been put up by some hunters years before, but the sportsmen, owing to the scarcity of game, did not come to the place any more. It was in a dilapidated condition, and the snow had driven in through the broken-out window and open doorway.
"Not a very cheerful place," observed Dave, as he led the way inside. "Let us light a torch, so we can see things."
They procured several pine sticks and soon had them lit, and holding these aloft surveyed the scene. All was very much as it had been during their former visit.
"Nothing new, so far as I can see," was Roger's comment.