“I … am … the … ghost … of [[203]]Anton … Hackman … the … hermit,” I recited slowly, letting my voice come out of my shoes, sort of. “I … was … murdered … on … this … spot,” I went on. “I … warn … you … away.” Here I made a slashing motion with my pocketknife. “I … cut … initials … on boys’ … gizzards,” I concluded.
Well, I could tell from Bid’s face that there was no longer any doubt in his mind that he was wide awake. He was seeing, so he thought, the sure-enough ghost of the island’s dead hermit, whose story, of course, he had heard.
And was he scared? I only wish you could have seen him! Oh, boy! His eyes, glassy with horror, stuck out of his white face like halved onions.
The tent’s other occupant was now awake and sitting up.
“What the dickens?…” Hib Milden stared, blinking at me. Then, in better control of his senses, he let out a ringing screech. “It’s a ghost! It’s a ghost!”
Bid didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. He was scared speechless. But the use of his arms and legs had not deserted him, as was shown when I started at him with my pocketknife. [[204]]Backing off on all fours, like a crab, he went out of the tent under its canvas wall and down the hill like a shot, the other kid hot on his flying heels.
Their screaming voices awakened the others. A pair of bare legs was disgorged from one pup tent; a tousled head came out of another. To an audience of five pairs of bulging eyes I did some more reciting and knife flourishing. And it wasn’t many seconds, let me tell you, before Bid’s trusty followers had joined their gallant leader at the foot of the hill.
At the flight of the Strickers my chums came quickly into sight. Tearing down the big tent, to get a clearer view of the ground, they quickly located the spot where the treasure had been buried and set to work, using a spade that they had picked up near the campfire.
Boy, I never saw faster digging in all my life! And as the others worked in the recovery of the treasure I did a few more moonlight ghost stunts for the benefit of the scared ones at the foot of the hill. But they were fast getting over their scare. I could see that.
Pretty soon the spade struck the brass box. In another minute the treasure was lifted out of the ground. The Strickers were now coming up the [[205]]hill on the run. But their fast approach didn’t excite us. For in the time that it would take them to reach the top of the hill we would be half-way to the boat.