"If they dare we shall show them a few things. Take all the men you need, Paul, to watch their movements. That will do."
The forester lingered.
"You remember that we spoke the other day of the log house on Raccoon Creek, where the Appleweights had driven off our man?"
"Yes, Paul. It is where the state line crosses the heavy woods and the farthest outpost, so to speak, on my property. When you cross the little creek, you're in South Carolina. You said some of these Appleweight fellows had been cutting off the timber down there, if I remember rightly."
"Yes, sir," replied the forester, twirling his cap awkwardly. "But some of the people on the estate have said—"
He broke off in an embarrassment so unlike him that Jerry and Ardmore looked at him curiously.
"Well, Paul, what's the matter? If the cabin has been burned down it's no serious matter."
"Why, sir; some of the men passing there at night say they see lights and hear sounds in the cabin, though no one from the estate goes there. A child died in the house last spring and—well, you know how some of these people are!"
"Ghosts!" cried Ardmore. "The property is growing more valuable all the time! Tell them that whoever captures the ghost and brings it here shall have a handsome present. So far it's only a light in an abandoned house—is that it?"