Begging the spook not to grab him, he floundered up the bank and darted into the timber as though the Old Nick was after him. His piteous wail was lost in a crashing of bushes, and finally even that sound died out.
A chuckling laugh echoed from the top of the bank, and a form disentangled itself from the shadows.
"Come on, Kinky," called a voice. "That little nigger was scared white. He'll not stop running until he gets clear to Madison. What kind of a spook do I make, eh?"
"Pretty raw," answered another voice, as a second form pushed out of the shadows and joined the first. "You can fool a superstitious, half-grown darky, Ross, but I wouldn't make a business of this ghost racket. What was the good of it, anyhow?"
"Well, that darky never came here alone in that boat."
"Well."
"Some one must have come with him. Maybe the boat's other passengers are the two kids we couldn't find in the cabin."
"I don't know how it could be, Ross, but mebby you're right. That's not a rowboat."
"Just what I was thinkin', Kinky. Let's go down and look her over. The darky was obliging enough to leave a lighted lantern for us."
The two men descended to the boat, and Ross picked up the lantern and swung it about him.