“’Cause you’re a scarish one,” growled the man opposite him. “You’d ought to be a woman! I’d take it for nothing, and if the ghost came near me he’d catch some cold lead for his trouble.”
At this remark the crowd enjoyed a short laugh at the “scared fellow’s” expense.
“This cap’n is a tricky one, comrades,” said Putney, “and ye’d all better look out for him in the futer, or he’ll fix some of ye.”
“He’s the devil’s own!” added Bill.
Such was the talk concerning the ghost, or whatever it might be, which they had seen. All who had witnessed the phenomenon declared that it was Captain Sherwood; but when the mystery was examined into, it was proved beyond doubt that the captain had never left his cell once during the night.
This was strange indeed, and no one could solve the enigma. The captain began to be regarded with superstitious awe. He heeded it not; there were more serious troubles that weighed upon his mind.
It was the day on which his trial was to take place; and as the hour for assembling the court approached, he began to grow a little uneasy.
He had hitherto forgotten his own danger in his great sorrow for the lost Imogene; but now, he awoke to a clear sense of his own condition, and took a glance at the means that were to extricate him from it.
The situation was indeed becoming alarming, for he was well aware that should it in any way be proved that he was the dreaded Iron Hand, his life would be worthless.
“What could he do?” he asked himself. “There is some terrible mistake, and I fear me it will not be rectified until too late!”