“Here, Skipper, I found this tied aft.” Jim took it and recognized it at a glance.
“Ho! ho!” he cried, “this is some of Jo’s work. He and Tom have been up to some devilment. I bet my sombrero that those two rascals were the ghosts you saw.” But the old sailor did not want to give up the dubious honor of having seen some live spirits, and so he stuck to his story.
“But these were real ghosts, sir. I seen ’em with my two eyes, and their faces were white and green, like nothing human.”
“He’s shure roight, sor,” declared the boy who had now put in a cautious appearance. “My grandfather has seen ghosts in his time.”
Jim laughed and began an examination of the floor, whirling the light from the lantern slowly around until he came to some damp footprints in the middle of the floor.
“These ghosts must have worn moccasins,” Jim remarked, “for if I don’t mistake that is the sign of ’em, and they got their feet damp. You stay here long enough and you will probably hear them sneeze.”
“But how was they complected that way?” questioned old Pete, his face growing very red with the possibility of his being made a fool of by a couple of kids.
“I guess they were bilious, those ghosts,” remarked Jim, “or maybe it was sulphur they rubbed on. They once saw me scare some savages that way down in Hawaii.”
“I call it a durned outrage, on an old man like me, to have a couple of fool kids play a trick like that. I hurt my leg too, Skipper.”