“Now, who’s that?” demanded Carl.
“The names of the characters appear on the program in the order of their entrance!” suggested Jimmie.
“Honest, boys,” Sam whispered, “I think you fellows deserve a medal apiece. Instead of being awed and frightened, standing as you do in the presence of the old temple, and seeing, as you do, the mysterious figure moving about, one would think you were occupying seats at a minstrel show!”
“You said yourself,” insisted Jimmie, “that there wasn’t any such thing as ghosts.”
“That’s right,” exclaimed Carl. “What’s the use of getting scared at something that doesn’t exist?”
“The only question in my mind at the present time,” Jimmie went on, with a grin, “is just this: Is that fellow over there carrying a gun?”
While the boys talked in whispers, Sam had been moving slowly to the west so as to circle the little cove which separated him from the temple.
In a moment the boys saw him beckoning them to him and pointing toward the ruins opposite.
The figure which had been before observed was now standing close to the lip of the lake, waving his hands aloft, as if in adoration or supplication. This posture lasted only a second and then the figure disappeared as if by magic.
There were the smooth waters of the lake with the ruined temple for a background. There were the moonbeams bringing every detail of the scene into strong relief. Nothing had changed, except that the person who a moment before had stood in full view had disappeared as if the earth had opened at his feet.