"I but followed your example, and I begin to think that I followed a very poor one," I replied.
"I am of the same opinion, for I don't believe that we saw any thing excepting a ram anxious for a hunting match. Let us return."
As my friend ceased speaking we glanced at the island, and that one look was sufficient to start us towards the main land in double quick time, for, standing at the end of the peninsula, with one arm raised in a threatening manner, as though warning us against a renewed attempt for the treasure, was the white figure which had first frightened us.
"That is Buckerly's ghost," gasped Mr. Brown, as we gained the palm trees under which the horses were hitched; "I know it is his spirit, from the many descriptions which I have heard concerning it."
"What do you propose to do?" I asked, beginning, now that I was some distance from the object of my terror, to entertain serious doubts in relation to the spirituality of the visitant.
"Do?" repeated Mr. Brown, "what can we do against a ghost?"
"We can at least find out what claims it has upon the treasure, and whether it requires a fair dividend in case we are successful. Come, change your clothes, and let us return and question this wonderful visitant."
"Would you dare to speak first?" demanded Mr. Brown, in astonishment. "Don't you know, or have you not read, that the person who holds conversation with a ghost dies within a week?"
"A week is better than a day, so we can have time to think of our sins and get prepared for the event. Come, let us return like men and face this white object, and see what kind of stuff it is made of."
While I was urging Mr. Brown I did not have the faintest idea that he would accede to my request. In fact, I rather hoped that he would not, for, in spite of my expressed doubts in relation to the ghost, I was more than half inclined to believe that there was something supernatural about it. A desire to make my companion think that I was more reckless than himself prompted me to attempt to combat his fears.