"Rube, for Heaven's sake," he exclaimed, "what on earth ails you, man? One would take you for a nervous woman instead of the man you are from the way you act. Here, drink this. It will put some heart in you, and then we'll search this old barn together. If there is a ghost in it, I'll warrant you I'll have it out."
He passed a whisky flask to the trembling Tisdale, who pressed it to his lips.
"There, do you feel better?"
"Yes, somewhat, but I'm as weak as a rat still."
"Well, then, come along. I'm bound to see this out."
Striding toward the bedstead, he seized hold of the headboard and tried to move it out into the center of the room.
Weak and decayed before, this action proved too much for the dilapidated piece of furniture.
With a loud crash it fell a mass of broken rubbish to the floor, causing Tisdale to spring back with a startled cry.
"Confound the old trap!" exclaimed Callister. "But one thing is settled—what we saw is neither under it nor behind it, that is clear. Where the mischief it could have found means to hide beats me. The door is locked, and the rest of the room is all clear before us. There is no place in which a cat could lie concealed."
He flung open the door of the closet as he spoke.