By then it was falling dark, and Matt wanted to cover the remainder of his journey as quickly as possible.
"Pete," said he, getting out on the creek bank, "I'm going to leave you with the boat for a short time, while I go up the creek."
Pete immediately had an attack of the "shakes."
"Golly, boss," he chattered, "Ah doan' lak de da'k when Ah's erlone. Hit's spookerous, en white things done trabbel erroun' lookin' fo' brack folks. Where you-all gwine?"
"Not far. I ought to be back in an hour. You're not afraid of spooks, are you, Pete? I should think a chap who was the friend of so many illustrious people would be above such foolishness."
The gathering wind sobbed through the trees, and from somewhere a screech-owl tuned up in a most hair-raising way.
"Br-r-r!" muttered Pete, hugging himself and dropping into the bottom of the boat. "Ah ain't afraid, no, sah," he declared plaintively. "Ah ain't afraid ob anythin' dat walks. Hit's dem white ha'nts whut doan' walk, er fly, but moves erlong in er glide, dat gits me a-goin'. Mebby Ah better go along wif yo' en see dot yo' doan' git lost?"
"I'll not get lost, Pete, and I don't want the Sprite left alone."
"Yo'll be back in er houah, hones'?"
"Yes."