Left—"Sometub" Emerging from Mile-Long Tunnel Under Alleghany Mountains.
Above—Head of Navigation of Chesapeake and Ohio Canal at Cumberland, Md.
Below—"Sometub" Leaving Oakmont on Allegheny River.
Making the boat fast to the lockhouse we lighted our oil lantern, dropped the side curtains and disregarded the returning rain while we prepared dinner on two small stoves formed by a pair of tripod rings containing cans of solid alcohol. Motor boating creates a genuine appetite and we had all the facilities for preparing a good dinner in the smallest possible space. The deck of "Sometub" provided a dry place for the storing of bedding, dishes and supplies and there was no crowding at mealtime. After dinner we wrote up the log, spread a mattress in the bottom of the boat, fastened down the curtains and retired early.
The night was inky dark. The lights in the locktender's dwelling were extinguished before 9 o'clock and the denizens of the village of North Branch, several hundred yards away, seemed to seek repose at the same hour. The solitude of the place grew oppressive. About midnight we were aroused by a shriek that pierced the night air and echoed back from the mountains across the river. Parting the curtains, we saw two sheeted forms on the towpath, their ghostly outlines standing out against the cloudy sky, while the waters of the canal reflected a pair of shimmering specters which at first glance were calculated to make the average stranger wish that he made this trip in a Pullman car.
Again the shrieking broke forth and the sheeted forms began to move. We were undergoing our initiation in night traveling on the canal, but we didn't realize it at the time.
II.
OF THOSE ghosts that are simply ghosts I have no fear. Some persons whistle when they pass country graveyards after dark in order, they say, to keep up courage; for the same reason I sometimes whistle on Broadway. Specters are harmless if they do not assume material form. The apparitions on the Chesapeake and Ohio canal towpath soon lost their ethereal quality in our vision and the unearthly noise that accompanied their manifestation translated itself into "you black-hearted, ornery, low-lifed beggar—geddap!"
There was a familiar rattle of harness. The specters moved again, but more quickly this time. Against the black infiniteness of the mountains across the river were the shadowy forms of a pair of gray mules hitched in tandem. Wearily they plodded off, and moving slowly, tediously, silently behind them a canal boat followed along at the end of an invisible towline.