Almost immediately the entire household was astir, and ready for whatever might happen.
“I done tole yo’-all dat ole Okeechobee ain’ no fit place to be,” wailed Ham, who refused to believe anything but that Tom Halstead had been snatched up and borne away through the air by the dreaded ghost.
“It’s four days before the men are due to come back with the wagons,” said Mr. Tremaine. “Jeff, you know all the paths of this section?”
“Yes, suh.”
“You can get to the nearest settlement? How long will it take?”
“About three hours and a half, suh, the kind of going we have hereabouts.”
“You can get at least a dozen armed men and bring them back with you—men of real nerve, who won’t be afraid to fight, if they’re well paid for it?”
“Yes, suh. I can get the men all right, suh. But——”
Jeff glanced longingly backward at the house.
“Oh, of course,” exclaimed Mr. Tremaine. “You want something in the way of breakfast before you start on a tramp of hours. Ham, you rascal, hustle inside and get your fire going. Put on coffee, bacon, eggs—hustle. Jeff will go faster if he starts with steam up. And, Jeff, be sure to carry extra food with you. Dixon, you stay out here, if you will. The rest of us will go inside and all turn to helping Ham rush things.”