"Well," returned Frank, "I'm too busy with my work just now to chase it, but it better look out."
"Better let it alone, it may hurt you."
"What makes you think so? I thought you said you were no judge of ghosts a minute ago!"
"Well, all I know is that I'm not going hunting it again. Once was enough."
Nothing more was said that night, but the next night, shortly after the early dusk had fallen, Gleason, who had been bending over his studies at the table, got up, stretched himself, and said:
"Well, I guess I'll go over to the library a little while. I'll be back in an hour or so." He went out and shut the door behind him.
He was no sooner out of sight than Frank slammed his book down on the desk, startling David.
"I have a notion there's going to be an appearance to-night. Something in my bones tells me there is something on foot, and the ghost is going to walk, or glide, or fly, or something. And, by the hocus pocus, I'm going to find out which means of locomotion it uses, and whether it is vapor or blood and bones."
"How, I'd like to know?" inquired David.
"See this perfectly fine piece of cord? Well, it's about a hundred feet long, a nice hempen cord, big enough for ghost or man to hang himself on. Now, I'm going to tie one end of this to that big oak tree down on the bank, and the other end to a stake at the corner of the gymnasium. Whatever the blooming thing is, it will have to go past that string. It seems to float right through the air, and if it really does that then I'll have to guess again. But I have a notion it doesn't float, and if it walks, there's going to be a tumble for it, for this nice little piece of cord will be four or five feet off the ground.