“Nonsense, Willie,” Don turned to me. “I say, Bob, what do you make of this?”
“I seen it, I tell you,” the boy broke in. “It ain’t a mile from here if you want to go look at it.”
Don gripped the colored boy whose coffee complexion had taken on a greenish cast with his terror.
I fired at an oncoming white figure.
“Stop saying that, Willie. That’s absolute rot. There’s no such thing as a ghost.”
“But I seen—”
“Where?”
“Over on the north shore. Not far.”
“What did you see?” Don shook him. “Tell us exactly.”