“It’s fairyland.”
“You’re not far off,” Bob whispered, as he seized his friend by the arm. “Did you ever see anything more beautiful?”
There in a hollow, seemingly about twenty feet from where they stood, lay the lake. It was nearly circular in shape and bordered by a fringe of trees, and at that moment the moon shed a silvery pathway directly across the center.
For some minutes not another word was spoken as they looked on the scene.
“I’m afraid it’ll vanish if I speak,” Jack finally whispered.
At that moment Rex caught his arm in a firm grip.
“Look.”
Jack drew in his breath sharply, as he gazed out over the little sheet of water.
“What is it?” he asked.
It was no wonder that he asked the question, for out there seemingly floating in the air about three feet above the surface of the lake was the dim outline of a canoe, and in it was a figure in white, lazily wielding a paddle. The light was not sufficient to afford them more than a hazy outline of the strange craft and its ghostly occupant, and soon it passed out of the moon’s path and vanished in the shadow of the tall pines at the edge of the water.