"You're a fine scout! afeard o' spooks. Do ye take these yere turns
often? Fer if ye do, I reckon as how I 'd sooner be ridin' alone."
Murphy struggled to his feet and gripped the other's arm. "Never hed
nuthin' like it--afore. But--but it was thar--all creepy--an'
green--ain't seen thet face--in fifteen year."
"What face?"
"A--a fellow I knew--once. He--he's dead."
The other grunted, disdainfully. "Bad luck ter see them sort," he
volunteered, solemnly. "Blame glad it warn't me es see it, an' I don't
know as I keer much right now 'bout keepin' company with ye fer very
long. However, I reckon if either of us calculates on doin' much
ridin' ternight, we better stop foolin' with ghosts, an' go ter
saddlin' up."
They made rapid work of it, the newcomer proving somewhat loquacious,
yet holding his voice to a judicious whisper, while Murphy relapsed
into his customary sullen silence, but continued peering about
nervously. It was he who led the way down the bank, the four horses
slowly splashing through the shallow water to the northern shore.
Before them stretched a broad plain, the surface rocky and uneven, the
northern stars obscured by ridges of higher land.
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