"Hey! Leave me the sight of one eye, anyway, or I'll be doing it some more, and have lumps all over my poor cranium. That's better, Frank. I only wish I had got my gun—that's what," pursued the injured member of the group.
"Well, I advised you before not to use it on the ghost. If it proves to be a man, how badly you'd feel if you had shot a harmless lunatic," observed Frank.
"I guess that's so," muttered the other, shrugging his shoulders.
"Things seem to be happening to us mighty fast this time," observed Will.
"I should remark to that effect. Here we have only been away from home parts of two days and nights, and see how many strange things have come about. The raid of the camp by the Peters crowd, the finding of Jed, the coming of the farmer, and our bold defiance, the rush of old Bruin out of his cave into our fire, and now the appearance of the ghost on the scene," declared Jerry.
"You forgot one little event—the passing of Andy Lasher," put in Frank.
"Well, I didn't think that amounted to anything worth mentioning."
"You can never tell. When the story has all been told some of the things that at the time appeared very insignificant may loom up as big as mountains. But it does look as if we were bound to keep things hustling so long as we stay up here in the Sunset Mountains," remarked Frank.
Jerry was working at a long piece of rope.
"Just let that fine, healthy spirit from the other side of the Styx show up while I'm around, that's all," he said resolutely.