His resolution seemed to restore Duplin, and then, in silence they awaited the result, though in painful suspense, for neither was free from a sickening dread. Few men are equally brave in the dark and light.
The suspense was not of long duration. Another shrill, unearthly peal of laughter rung through the rocky chamber, and then, as if by magic, a glowing skeleton with every bone plainly outlined, stood before the two gold-hunters.
Duplin hastily cocked his revolver. It seemed that the sharp metallic click was not unheard, for another laugh, low and taunting, came from where the ghastly object stood. Then a voice—the same that had addressed them at their camp, the preceding night—uttered the words:
"Poor silly fools! Do ye think to alarm the dead by such actions? What care I for mortal weapons? You but precipitate your fate by such rashness. You scorned my first warning—and now you see the results. One of your number is dead—you two are doomed! Doomed to wander on through the bowels of the earth unceasingly, until death takes pity upon your sufferings and touches your hearts with his finger of ice. You were warned—why did you throw the chance behind you? You sealed your own fate. You are doomed—doomed! Ha! ha!" and again the chilling peal rung forth.
And yet, strange as it may seem, these words gave Burr Wythe renewed courage. Though a partial believer in spiritualism, he did not believe that disembodied spirits could speak.
The owner of this same voice had, at the camp, left a substantial proof behind it that scarcely befitted a ghost. And now this voice admitted the identity.
"'Tis some trick, Paley," he whispered in Duplin's ear.
"Fire when I do, and we will have the clue in our hands. For poor Jack's sake, courage."
"I will—touch me when you are ready," came the low, cautious response.
"Now!"