“But you say he ain’t afraid of them,” suggested his father. “What should he want to use your gun for?”
“Of course he ain’t afraid of them in the day-time; but when it comes down dark night in the woods, and you hear the bushes rattling and something go g-g-r-r—”
“Oh, Peleg, stop!” ejaculated his mother, who was all in a tremble.
“Stop your noise, Peleg,” said Mr. Graves, who could not bear to hear him imitate the ghosts in this way. “Maybe they don’t go that way at all.”
“Well, if you want to find out, you had best go up there and stay all night,” said Peleg, shaking his head in a wise manner. “And I will tell you another thing that happened while I was up there. Nat told me that I must not be frightened, for when he got onto the trail of those papers again——”
“Did he lose the trail of them?” asked Mr. Graves.
“I reckon so; for he looked up into a tree and said: ‘Here I am and there I am,’ and the tree showed him which way to go.”
“Aw! Get out,” exclaimed Mr. Graves. “Could a tree speak to him or point with its branches to tell him when he was going wrong?”
“That tree did as sure as you live,” said Peleg confidently.
“Did you see it?”