Several days passed. The girls went on little trips, on picnics, cruised about and spent delightful hours in the woods. They thoroughly enjoyed the camp, and the “ghost” did not annoy them. Mollie waited anxiously for news from home, but none came.
Then the boys arrived, with their camping paraphernalia, and in such bubbling good spirits that the girls were infected with them, for they had become rather lonesome of late.
The boys pitched their tent near that of the girls, and many meals were eaten in common. Then one night it happened!
It was late, and after a jolly session—a marshmallow roast, to be exact—they had all retired. No one remained awake now, for the girls had become used to their surroundings, and the boys—Allen included, for he had come up—were sound sleepers.
There was a crash of underbrush, a series of snorts—no other word describes them—and the screaming girls, hastening to their tent flaps, cried:
“The ghost! The ghost!”
“Get after it, fellows!” called Will, as he recognized his sister’s voice. “We’ll lay this chap—whoever he is!”
There was a vision of something white, again that rattling of chains, and a plunge into the lake. Then all was still.
CHAPTER XXII
WHAT MOLLIE FOUND
“Did you get—it?”