“Did they do anything to him after they caught him?” inquired Grant.
“Not very much. They just hanged him from the limb of a big tree by the side of the road and left the body swinging there in the air for two or three days. Finally they left the head in the noose, stuck a long pipe between the jaws and my grandfather used to tell me that the head was there until the crows had picked out the eyes and left nothing but the grinning skull.”
“That’s a nice story to tell just before we make our bows at a spook party,” said Fred.
The boy was striving to speak lightly, but his voice sounded strange even in his own ears. Indeed, by this time, after the gruesome stories of the Cowboys had been told, the nerves of all the boys were on edge.
The dim outlines of the Meeker House were now plainly visible. The silence that rested over the place was unbroken except for the sighing of the wind as it swept through the ancient pine trees that grew in the front yard.
“This is a ghost story up to date, isn’t it?” said Grant. “I don’t suppose many of those Cowboys or Skinners ever traveled around in automobiles.”
“Probably not,” said John dryly, and conversation abruptly ceased.
“George, don’t you think you had better leave your automobile up here on the road and not take it clear down to the house?” inquired Fred in a whisper, when they drew near the place they were seeking.
“What for?” inquired George.
“Oh, nothing, only I thought it would be more out of the way there. You see the house is on the corner and if some one makes a sharp turn there they might run into it without seeing it.”