“Oh!”
Half a dozen fellows were on the alert in an instant.
“Who’s that called out?” cried one. “I’d like to scrag him.”
“What’s the row, whoever it is?” demanded Fergus.
“Hush! Listen!” was all I could reply.
There must have been something in my voice which bespoke my horror, for a dead silence ensued.
But not for long. Once more the dull, dragging sound, interrupted by the spasmodic and fruitless leaps!
A shudder went round the dormitory at the sound. They knew as well as I did what it meant.
“It’s the ghost!” faltered Sparrow’s trembling voice; and no one contradicted him. Fergus himself, like one suddenly confronted with a spirit of his own raising, seemed the most terrified of the lot, and I could hear him gasping as he sat petrified in his bed.
“Can’t some one strike a light?” Lamb said presently.