“Not now,” he answered. “It's a hard pull against the current, an' I'm goin' to take you home. You wouldn't get there till to-morrow mornin.'”
Well, he would go with me, and so we set out together—the Pearl having left his dog with Mr. Weatherby. As we made our way upstream he told me tales full of the oddest fancies.
By-and-by it grew dark, and I could hear only the dip of his paddle and water washing on the bow.
“Say,” he exclaimed, suddenly, “that's an awful curious riddle that you've got in your pocket there.”
“What do you make of it?” I asked.
He seemed not to hear me, but continued to work his paddle in silence until we got out below the Mill House.
“Did you ever hear of the ghost riddles?” he asked, presently.
“No.”
“Well, I wouldn't wonder if it was one of em.
“What are the ghost riddles?” I asked.