Passing on up the bank of the bayou, searching for some sign in the darkness, Case finally came upon the rowboat which Alex. and Jule had left half concealed in a tangle of bushes in a little bay. Before him, then, lay the old house, dim in the night. He had heard the boys talk of visiting the place, and at once concluded that they were there.
He looked over the structure for lights, but saw none. Then he listened, catching in time the sounds which the two boys had noted. He crouched down in a patch of shrubbery and waited, listening for some indication of the presence of his chums.
Directly he heard a shrill scream of fright, then the bushes between his hiding-place and the house were shaken violently, and a small figure darted out, running at top speed and sending a scream into the night at every jump!
“If that isn’t Mose,” Case thought, “then there are two young negroes with most extraordinary calliope possibilities! He runs like the Old Scratch was after him, and has plenty of wind left to tell how scared he is!” he added.
The small figure came smashing through the shrubbery and finally landed in the thicket where Case had secreted himself. Here he stumbled over a trailing vine and fell forward on his face. Before he could regain his feet Case had him by the arm.
“Mose!” he said. “Keep quiet! You’ll have all the pirates in the state steering in this direction! What is the matter?”
“Fo’ de Lawd’s sake leave dis nigger go!” wailed Mose. “Dar’s ghostes in dat ol’ house, an’ dey’s got de boys!”
“Are the boys in there?” demanded Case, giving the frightened lad a gentle shake to bring him back to his senses. “Where is the Rambler?”
“Ah don’ know!” gasped the little negro. “Piruts don’ got de boat, an’ dem ghostes don’ ’pear fo’ dis nigger!”
“If you don’t brace up and tell me what’s going on,” Case declared, “I’ll throw you in the river. Where are the boys?”