“Tom!” he whispered shrilly into the latter’s ear. “Tom! Wake up! It’s Buck Granger! There’s something queer going on around this shack!”
Tom, who had been partially aroused by the first mention of his name, came upright into a sitting posture as Granger spoke jerkily of the mystery at hand; and he sat up with such suddenness and force that his head, striking Buck directly under the chin, nearly dislocated the latter’s neck and as narrowly escaped cracking Tom’s skull.
“What is it? What’s the matter?” the young sergeant demanded, also in a hoarse whisper, as they both rubbed their respective injuries.
“Listen!” Buck responded; but there was no necessity, for just at that instant the moan was repeated for the third time, now as clear and distinct as the first time Buck had heard it.
“Great Scott, that’s wierd,” Tom exclaimed, almost involuntarily. “What is it? Who is it? Where does it come from?”
“I don’t know who or what it is,” Buck whispered back, “but it seemed to come right up out of the ground where I was asleep, and you’re right, it’s wierd enough.”
“When did you hear it first?” Tom asked in a low tone, at the same time cocking his ear in the darkness for a repetition of the strange sound.
“Just a moment ago—heard it twice,” answered Buck. “Let’s waken the others and make a light and see what we can find.”
Tom reached into his pocket and drew, forth an electric searchlight which he immediately switched on. Their first act was to squint around in the glare of the light into every crook and cranny of the little cow-shed, but there was nothing unusual to be found, nor was there any further sound.
“I’ve always heard that ghosts fade into thin air and cease all sound when a light appears,” said Tom, trying to speak lightly.