Wicker Bonner, Harvard
"Hello, up there!" was what the deep, masculine voice shouted from the river. Anderson Crow was the first to distinguish the form of the speaker, and he was not long in deciding that it was far from ghost-like. With a word of command he brought his disorganised forces out of chaos and huddled them together as if to resist attack.
"What's the matter with you?" he demanded, addressing his men in a loud tone. "Don't get rattled!"
"Are you speaking to me?" called the fresh voice from below.
"Who are you?" demanded Mr. Crow in return.
"Nobody in particular. What's going on up there? What's the fuss?"
"Come up an' find out." Then Mr. Crow, observing that the man below was preparing to comply, turned and addressed his squad in low, earnest tones. "This feller will bear watchin'. He's mixed up in this thing somehow. Else why is he wanderin' around here close to the house? I'll question him."
"By gosh, he ain't no ghost!" murmured Ed Higgins, eyeing the newcomer as he crawled up the bank. "Say, did y' see me a minute ago? If you fellers had come on, I was goin' right up to search that house from top to bottom. Was you all askeered to come?"
"Aw, you!" said Anderson Crow in deep scorn.
The next instant a stalwart young fellow stood before the marshal, who was eyeing him keenly, even imperiously. The newcomer's good-looking, strong-featured face was lighted up by a smile of surpassing friendliness.