"Do you believe he is not trying to deceive us?" asked the commander, in a low tone.
"That's his voice—I'd swear to it 'mong ten thousand. But I'll swear, too, that he has been killed once!"
"Fudge! Jim, you ain't such a fool as that? Go down and let him in, if you ain't afraid. Remember what I said and be careful."
The ranger, without a word, turned and made his way downward. As he passed out toward the gate, it was not without considerable misgivings and a hearty wish that matters and things in general would not take it into their head to assume such mysterious and inexplicable a form to him. He had no fear of anything mortal, but he would have rather faced a dozen yelling Shawnees than the ghostly apparition which he believed was waiting for him upon the outside.
"Where'n thunder ar' you?" he demanded spitefully as he approached the gate.
"Here, just on the outside, half chilled to death," was the reply from the rattling teeth of the sufferer.
"Sure there ain't no reds about as ar' goin' to try to dodge in atween your legs?"
"No, no; and in Heaven's name, how much longer are you going to keep me here?"
"Wal, you needn't be so cross 'bout it."
With these words, Peterson cautiously unbarred the gate, and opened a small space. Instantly, a cold, wet skeleton-apparition glided through and stood trembling beside him.