The boy called Toby, whose last name happened to be Jucklin, also scrambled to his feet when thus hailed by his campmate, Steve Dowdy.
He was a broad-shouldered chap, unusually husky in build, and apparently as strong as an ox; but all his life poor Toby had been afflicted with an unfortunate impediment in his speech that gave him no end of trouble.
When the third boy also stood erect it was plain to see how he came by his name. His legs were bowed, and appeared too short for his body. "Now open up and tell us what you saw, Toby," demanded Steve, who was by nature inclined to be what his chums called "bossy."
"L-l-land's sake, didn't you s-s-see it, fellows?" asked the troubled one, his voice trembling with the excitement under which he was laboring.
"Stick a pin in him, Steve," advised Bandy-legs; "that's the easiest way to make him talk straight English, you know."
"Don't you dare try it, now, I tell you," warned the other, forgetting to even stutter in his indignation. "I'm going to tell you about it just when I'm good and ready. G-get that, now?"
"Please commence then, Toby," pleaded the shorter boy. "Was it a real ghost you saw, or a snake? I'm terribly set against the crawlers, you remember."
"S-shucks! 'Twan't no s-snake, Bandy; I give you my word for that. But it had the awfulest glittering eyes you ever s-saw, boys."
"Wow! listen to that for a starter, will you?" cried Steve.
"Keep going, Toby; don't let up now," begged the boy with the crooked legs.