"Well, that's so. But you know mighty well
people don't go about that ha'nted house in the
day nor the night."

"Well, that's mostly because they don't like to
go where a man's been murdered, anyway--but
nothing's ever been seen around that house except
in the night--just some blue lights slipping by the
windows--no regular ghosts."

"Well, where you see one of them blue lights
flickering around, Tom, you can bet there's a ghost
mighty close behind it. It stands to reason. Becuz
you know that they don't anybody but ghosts use
'em."

"Yes, that's so. But anyway they don't come
around in the daytime, so what's the use of our
being afeard?"

"Well, all right. We'll tackle the ha'nted house
if you say so--but I reckon it's taking chances."

They had started down the hill by this time.
There in the middle of the moonlit valley below
them stood the "ha'nted " house, utterly isolated, its
fences gone long ago, rank weeds smothering the
very doorsteps, the chimney crumbled to ruin, the
window-sashes vacant, a corner of the roof caved
in. The boys gazed awhile, half expecting to see
a blue light flit past a window; then talking in a
low tone, as befitted the time and the circumstances,
they struck far off to the right, to give the haunted
house a wide berth, and took their way homeward
through the woods that adorned the rearward side
of Cardiff Hill.

-208-