“Rot! As if a ghost would care! I only know of one person who might be desirous of seeing us turn back.”
“Who is that?”
“The fellow that stole that black fox.”
“Then you think——”
“I don’t think anything. Now try to get to sleep till morning.”
Jack lay awake long after Tom was asleep once more. But the voice did not come again, and at last his eyelids, too, closed, not to open till it was broad day.
CHAPTER X—THE MYSTERY SOLVED.
“Ah, ha! I fancy that this is a clew to Mr. Ghost!” exclaimed Tom.
He was bending over a sort of megaphone of birch bark, which had been rolled up into a cone-shaped formation. He held it aloft triumphantly.
“So this is what your spook made those noises with, Jack, old fellow, and scared you half to death.”