CHAPTER XI
TOM HAS A SPOOK HUNT OF HIS OWN
“WHY, my boy,” murmured Mr. Tremaine, in a kindly tone, “you appear to be altogether demoralized.”
“I am a bit upset, just for the moment,” Dixon admitted. “Yet I am not a coward.”
“You don’t believe, actually, there are any such things as ghosts?” queried his host.
“Certainly not!”
“Then——”
“But I can’t begin to account for what I saw, nor for what happened. Tremaine, what would you say if you saw a white apparition—a big one—and if you fired four shots through it, almost at arm’s length, without injuring that apparition? What then?”
“I’d be puzzled, I admit,” assented the older man. “I can’t understand your experience.”