For an hour they sat, one on each side of the table, and read without speaking. Then, just as the clock, over in the dining cabin, struck eleven Jack closed his book.
“Time to put out the light,” he said.
Bob also closed this book and turned the light so low that practically no light came from it.
“If we hear anything,” he said, “I’m going to hide right below that window sill and if you see that thing I want you to give a low whistle. Somehow or other I have a hunch that he or it’ll be too sharp to walk into that trap and I’m going to make a grab for it.”
He had hardly finished when the spot of light appeared on the wall and he at once did as he had said. The window sill was only about two feet from the floor and his position, as he crouched there, ready to spring was anything but comfortable. He was obliged to move slightly from time to time to keep his muscles from cramping, but he was careful to make no noise.
For what seemed a long time but was in reality only a few minutes he waited and then the signal came. Instantly he jerked himself up and, without waiting for even a glance, thrust both hands through the cotton mosquito netting. They closed on something hard and, with a quick yank, he pulled it in through the window.
“Turn up the light, Jack,” he shouted.
Jack quickly obeyed the order and, as the light flooded the room the two boys gazed at the object which Bob held in his hands. For a moment neither spoke then Jack gave vent to low chuckle.
“Some ghost,” he laughed.
It was little wonder that the boy laughed for the object which Bob was holding in his hands was a pumpkin painted white and mounted on the end of a broom handle. Grotesque features had been cut through the rind and the inside had been hollowed out and a candle fitted to the end of the pole. A white sheet was draped on the lower part of the pumpkin and flowed down nearly to the lower end of the pole.