"If it's a ghost he can't hurt us."
"How do you know he can't? I tell ye he's coming this way!"
"What makes you say that?"
"Because I see him; look beyant, right across the lake—don't ye obsarve him?"
Until that moment Wharton had no thought that his friend saw anything—but he did. Directly across from where they were seated, and under the shadow of the opposite bank, where the waters narrowed preparatory to entering the gorge, so that the distance was barely a hundred yards, appeared a point of light. It looked like a star gliding along the shore and keeping in the shadow, so that the fiery glow was all that was visible to the eye.
This of itself was not the form which ghosts are supposed to take, but it was in keeping with the dismal monotone, which sent a cold shiver down their backs. Wharton was more than ever inclined to run, but with a courage that was rather unusual he resolutely held his ground, and forced his companion to do the same.
"I'm going to find out what it is," he said in a guarded undertone, "before I leave this spot."
"All right; when the spook jumps on us and we are dead ye'll learn how much more I know than yersilf."
"Sh!"
Something was seen to be issuing from the wall of shadow. The point of light was a part of the object which was moving slowly, while the strange sound continued. The boys were straining their eyes to learn what it was, when, at the same moment, they recognized it as the prow of a canoe, which was leaving the bank of shade and coming out upon the moonlit surface of the lake.