thing was to
happen to you or me! Think we'd get in a funk, eh?"

The Zulu boy, coming of a race which is intensely susceptible to
superstitious fears, shook his head, and muttered something in his own
tongue. The drear and dismal aspect of the place and its gruesome
legend impressed him. He did not like it at all, but would not own as
much. If Haviland, to whom he looked up as something of a god, was not
afraid, why should he be? Haviland, moved by some spirit of mischief,
went on, sinking his voice to a still more impressive whisper:

"Supposing we were to see the ghost now, Cetchy, looking just as they
say it walks--black in the face, and with its eyes and tongue all
bulging out of its head, and the bit of rope dangling from its neck!
Think we should get in a beastly funk, eh? There, just coming out from
under those dark firs--can't you imagine it?"

For answer the other started violently, and uttered a scared
ejaculation. Even Haviland's nerves were not entirely proof against the
interruption, coming when it did. Something had happened to startle
them both.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

THE GHOST.

The next moment Haviland burst into a fit of smothered laughter.

"It's only a hen pheasant, Cetchy," he whispered, "but she made such a
row getting up right under our feet just as we were talking about the
ghost. It quite gave me the jumps."

"She's got nest too," said the other, who had been peering into the
undergrowth. "Look, nine, ten eggs! That's good?"

"Yes, but you can't take them. Never meddle with game eggs."

"How I make collection if I not take eggs?"

This was pertinent, and Haviland was nonplussed, but only for a moment.

"I've got some extra specimens I'll give you," he answered. "Come on,
leave these, and let the bird come back."

The other looked somewhat wistfully at the smooth olive-hued eggs lying
there temptingly in their shallow bowl of dry leaves and grass. Then he
turned away.

"We'll find plenty of others," said Haviland. "Last time I was here I
took a nest of blackcap's, and the eggs were quite pink instead of
brown. That's awfully rare. We'll see if there are any more in the
same place."

Round the cover they went, then across it, then back again, all with a
regular system, and soon their collecting boxes were filled--including
some good sorts.

"There! Big bird go away up there," whispered Anthony pointing upward.

They were standing under a clump of dark firs.