oed Chatz.

The Southern boy had always confessed to a streak of superstition in his
make-up. He admitted that he must have imbibed it from association with
the ignorant little negro lads with whom he had been accustomed to play
down on the plantation.

He had even admitted once to carrying in his pocket, as a charm, the
left hind foot of a rabbit, which animal had been killed by himself in a
graveyard when the moon was full.

The boys plagued Chatz so much that he had by degrees shown signs of
considering most of his former beliefs as folly.

Still, the mere mention of a haunted house set his nerves to quivering.
Chatz might be a timid fellow when up against anything bordering upon
the ghostly, but on all other occasions he had proven himself brave,
almost to the point of rashness.

It was "Doubting George" who burst out into a harsh laugh.

"A haunted house!" he exclaimed. "Ghosts! Strange knockings! Thrilling
whispers! Ice-cold hands! Oh, my, what a lark! I've always wanted to get
up against a thing like that. Don't believe in 'em the least bit. You
could talk to me till you was gray-headed, and I'd just laugh. There
never was such things as ghosts, never!"

Chatz looked at him rather queerly.

"Oh, well, perhaps you're right, George," he said, holding himself in
check, "but I've read of some people who had pretty rough experiences."

"Rats! They fooled themselves every time," declared the boy who would
not believe. "Bet you it was the wind whistling through a knot hole, or
a parcel of rats squeaking and fighting between the walls. Ghosts! It
makes me laugh."

"Same here," declared Red.

"Listen!" exclaimed Larry just then, making them all start. Through the
timber ahead of them came the sweet clear notes of a bugle.

"Told you so, fellows," declared Matty, smiling; "that's Elmer. He's
learning to use the bugle nearly as well as Mark himself."

"Then we're at the end of our trail following, are we?" asked Landy, not
without a sigh of relief, for it had not been as easy work in his case
as with his less stout comrades.

"Well, pretty near," Matty replied. "We've got to keep it up till we
come in sight of the mill."

"But why?" asked George, who seemed to want to know every little thing,
so that his natural tendency to object might have a chance to show
itself.

"Oh, well, there might be one more opening for a message, and our main
business is to translate these, you know."

"Do we stay long at th