| Ann could feel the dory rise and plunge | [Frontispiece] |
|---|---|
| PAGE | |
| In the lookout tree they mounted guard in turn | [53] |
| With one beautiful jump he vanished | [61] |
| The harness showered down in dozens of little straps | [135] |
THE HAUNTED SHIP
THE HAUNTED SHIP
CHAPTER I JO BAILEY AND THREE SEYMOURS
“Hey, Jerry, get along there, you fool horse!”
Jo Bailey flipped the reins over the back of the lumbering nag. Not that there was any hurry, but he was so eager to see what the Seymours would be like. They were coming from Boston to spend the summer at the Bailey house and Jo was on his way down to the station at Pine Ledge to meet their train.
The past winter had been a lonely one for Jo and his father, who lived up on a hill by the sea, far from the village. Some of the time the snowdrifts had been seven feet deep, but Jo didn’t expect these city people to understand what that meant; they could not realize what the Maine people called “a shut-in winter.” The Seymours were coming after the grass had grown green and the fields sprouted up through the brown moist earth, and they would be going home before the cold winds came down from the north woods, the cold that closed so surely and fiercely about the Baileys in their white house on the hill above the sea and shut them in so tightly that they could see nothing but the sea and the great stretches of snow for a long four months at a time.