"I spent a weary, restless night, also," said Mrs. Warlow, ignoring Robbie's sarcasm. "I was so vaguely uneasy about you, Clifford, that I shall object to your staying alone at the corral hereafter."
"Alone, nothing!" said Rob. "I guess, by the way he goes fishing about of late, he will soon find some one to keep him company," he added, with a knowing giggle, at which Clifford tried to look unconcerned, while Maud and her mother exchanged pleased and amused glances.
After breakfast Clifford drove the header to the wheat-field, which soon presented an animated and busy scene. The great machine was pushed by four horses, which were guided by young Warlow, who stood behind on a small platform, and steered the ponderous reaper with one hand, while with the other he held the lines. The elevator carried the heads of wheat into a large wagon, which ran, barge-like, beside where a busy loader arranged the load, until, towering like a hay-stack, the wagon would hold no more. Then it was driven away to the rick-yard by the careful driver, being succeeded by another team with military precision. The flapping of the canvas elevator, and the rolling waves of wheat, rippled and tossed by the summer breeze, made a scene that recalled a sail on the sea; all of which was as gratifying to Clifford's sense of the picturesque as the prospect for gain was encouraging.
When the evening came twenty acres of the heavy grain was stacked in six trim ricks at the edge of the field. A square of golden straw remained standing, to be either burned at the end of harvest, or turned under by the plows to further enrich the soil. Ten more days of such labor would be necessary, however, to finish the Warlow harvest, and no doubt long before that time the picturesque side of the operation will be appreciated best by those who view it at a safe distance.
In the cool twilight Clifford and Rob were riding homeward, the former silent and abstracted, while the latter was calling "Bob White" to a badly-deceived quail, that answered back from the stubble-field. Finally, becoming tired of this, Rob turned a shrewd but freckled face to his brother, and said:—
"What was the matter up there last night, Cliff? You have been grim as an old mummy all day! I bet my boots you saw something too; so out with it."
"Why have you seen anything strange up there recently, Rob?" Clifford replied, evasively.
"Now, don't give it away, Cliff, for the folks would raise an awful racket if they found it out; but last week I saw that old gray demon—of the camp-fire, you remember—by the corral. I was riding Pomp and driving the cows home through the dusk, when, as I came along by the old stone wall there, out popped that long-haired spook, and glared at me like old Nick. Good Lord, Harry! but I dug out of that, my hair bristling up mad-dog style, and Pomp wringing his tail till it cracked like a whip-lash," he concluded, with a scared laugh.
"Well, I saw him, too, at the same place last night," said Clifford, in a low tone as several harvesters came up. "But let's keep the matter secret, Rob; for it will never do to let the neighbors know it, and be ridiculed for our superstition. Then it would only make mother and Maud uneasy. So let's watch and say nothing until we have unraveled the mystery."
In the evening Clifford was starting up to his dwelling, on the plea that the house at home was crowded with the workmen; but Rob insisted on going along and sharing the watch, which on this and the succeeding evening was unsuccessful, for no trace of the ghostly visitant was found. As Clifford had quite enough of "fortune hunting" the night of his first experience, he made no further investigations for the recovery of the treasure.