“The deuce take the ghost’s light, and you with it,” said Tod passionately. “Is this a time to be staring at ghosts’ lights? Get you into Timberdale, Mackintosh, and see whether the police have news of the child.”
“Sir, I’d not go through the Ravine to-night,” was Luke’s answer. “No, not though I knowed I was to be killed at to-morrow’s dawn for disobeying the order.”
“Man, what are you afraid of?”
“Of that,” said Luke, nodding at the light. “But I don’t like the Ravine in the night at no time.”
“Why, that’s nothing but a will-o’-the-wisp,” returned Tod, condescending to reason with him.
Luke shook his head. There was the light; and neither his faith in it nor his fear could be shaken. Tod had his arms on the fence now, and was staring at the light as fixedly as Luke had done.
“Johnny.”
“What?”
“That light is carried by some one. It’s being lifted about.”
“How could any one carry it there?” I returned. “He’d pitch head over heels down the Ravine. No fellow could get to the place, Tod, let alone keep his footing. It’s where the bushes are thickest.”