Apparently floating through the air, directly above the cattle corral, was a white spectre!
CHAPTER II.
THE RAID.
“Ghosties!” gasped Sandy, in a voice scarcely above a whisper.
“No wonder we couldn’t place it—but I knew it warn’t no coyote,” asserted Deadshot.
For several minutes the men gazed at the awesome thing as it flitted hither and thither.
“By the blood of my mother! But I’m glad the crittur never took it into its head to visit us on the range,” breathed Pinky.
“Same here,” chorused Sandy and Deadshot.
“It means trouble—you see if it doesn’t,” continued the latter. “The only other time I ever see anything like it was the night before the Piutes dashed down on old man Turner’s ranch and killed all but me and a low-down gambler called Crooked Joe.”
This assertion that the eerie spectre floating before their eyes was not the first one he had seen instantly claimed the ears of his companions, though they kept their gaze riveted on the apparition.