Hal caught him by the hand.
“Sh!” cautioned Ned; and they softly stole forward, their heart in their mouth.
Yes, the white Thing was there, just as Ned had predicted. They didn’t go very near.
Hal gave back a yard, and so did Ned. They were poised, all prepared to run like deer if a hostile movement was made against them, when from the beach below arose to them a strenuous yodling:
“Oooo-dle—loo-dle—loo-dle—loo-dle!”
Sam and Joe! The call broke the spell.
“Oooo-dle—loo-dle—loo-dle—loo-dle!” yodled the boys, fleeing as they shouted. Never had signal been so welcome.
“Thought we’d left you here for good, didn’t you?” queried Joe, when, having been piloted by shouts and a waving lantern the boys, stumbling, slipping, leaping, brought up beside the skiff, at the water’s edge.
“Say——” hailed Ned, with scant ceremony, “there’s some Indian graves up on the bluff, dug open, and now it’s dark there’s a big white thing in one of them, and we don’t know what it is.”
“It made an awful noise at us, and we think it’s a ghost,” added Hal.