ere flashed into Dan's remembrance the frequent
nightly visits of Robin Frost to the pond, bringing with it a ray of
relief.

Robin had been looked upon as little better than a lunatic since the
misfortune; but, to Dan Duff, he appeared in that moment worth his
weight in gold. Robin's companionship was as good as anybody's to ward
off the ghostly fears, and Dan set off, full speed, towards him. To go
right up to the pond would take him a few yards out of his way to Bill
Hook's. What of that? To exchange words with a human tongue, Dan, in
that moment of superstitious fright, would have gone as many miles.

He had run more than half the intervening distance, when he brought
himself to a halt. It had become evident to Dan's sight that it was not
Robin Frost. Whoever it might be, he was a head and shoulders taller
than Robin; and Dan moved up more quietly, his eyes strained forward in
the moonlight. A suspicion came over him that it might be Mr. Verner;
Dan could not, at the moment, remember anybody else so tall, unless it
was Mr. Jan. The figure stood now with its back to him; apparently
gazing into the pool. Dan advanced with slow steps; if it was Mr.
Verner, he would not presume to intrude upon him; but when he came
nearly close, he saw that it bore no resemblance to the figure of Mr.
Verner. Slowly, glidingly, the figure turned round; turned its face
right upon Dan, full in the rays of the bright moon; and the most awful
yell you ever heard went forth upon the still night air.

It came from Dan Duff. What could have been its meaning? Did he think he
saw the ghost, which he had been looking out for the last
half-hour--poor Rachel's?--saw it beyond this figure which had turned
upon him? Dan alone knew. That he had fallen into the most appalling
terror, was certain. His eyes were starting, the drops of perspiration
poured off him, and his hair rose up on end. The figure--just as if it
had possessed neither sight nor hearing, neither sense nor sympathy for
human sound--glided noiselessly away; and Dan went yelling on.

Towards home now. All thought of Bill Hook and the gray ferret was gone.
Away he tore, the nearest way, which took him past the pound. He never
saw the white cow: had the cow been a veritable ghost, Dan had not seen
it then. The yells subsiding into moans, and the perspiration into fever
heat, he gained his mother's, and broke the window, as you have heard,
in passing in.

Such were the particulars; but