The boys anchored the Rambler close to the shore, opposite the little spread-out of rocky soil and built a fire of driftwood. When night settled down the stars looked into the gulch bright and clear, and in time the moon arose and lighted the upper air, though its rays did not penetrate to the inner gorge at first, of course.
After supper the lads sat on the deck of the motor boat and watched the line of moonlight drop down on the west wall. Now it touched the top of a monument erosion had wrought, now it painted a shadowy wall where rocks were tottering to a fall.
“It is going to be a ghost night!” Don said, presently.
The other boys laughed at the expression, and Clay asked:
“Do they have ghost nights at the bottom of the canyon?”
“The ghost nights,” Don explained, gravely, “are found only near the broad level made by the dumpings of the old copper mine. Anybody who ever lived hereabouts can tell you that ghosts come forth at midnight and walk the ledges where they came to their deaths!”
“Bunk!” grunted Case. That’s all bunk!”
“About the ghosts? Of course, but there is something mysterious in the Grand Canyon! There are noises no one can account for, and sights which no one can explain are common. It is a haunted place!”
“I’m glad of that!” Alex exclaimed. “I’ve always wanted to form the acquaintance of a really, truly ghost! One may come to-night!”
“If one should,” laughed Clay, “you would be the first one to jump out of your skin with fright! I don’t want to be bothered with ghosts, for one, for I’m tired and sleepy. Besides, we have a hard climb before us for to-morrow.”