ver get
home alive, I will."

"Come and make a visit, and I'll take you there," said Pullen; "that is"
(soberly) "if I ever go home."

The story-telling ceased while the two friends, each thinking of the
same thing, gravely watched the slowly fading fire.

"Come," said Pullen at last, "quit thinking about what may happen, and
tell me another ghost story. It's your turn now."

But Manson was silent, for the story-telling mood had fled, and his
thoughts were far away.

"Where are you now?" continued Pullen, studying his comrade's face.
"With some girl, I'll bet; am I right?"

"Yes," answered Manson slowly, "I was with some one just then, and
thinking of a fool promise I exacted from her before I left, and all
this ghost-story telling has made me realize what an injury I may have
done her by exacting that promise."

"Tell me," said Pullen, "I can sympathize with you, for I, too, have a
girl I left behind me."

"Well," came the answer slowly, "this girl has too much good sense to
believe in ghosts, and yet, you can't ever tell who does or does not
believe in them. The foolish part of it is that I took her to a lonely
spot away in the woods one day, before I left, and asked her to promise
me that in case I never came back she would visit this spot alone once a
year, on that same day, and if I was in spirit I would appear to her, or
at least if there was any such thing as spirit life, I would be there,
too. She is one of those 'true blue' girls would keep such a promise as
long as she lived, I think; and now you understand what a fool promise
it was."

"I can't dispute you," answered Pullen, and then they separated.

CHAPTER XV.

MYSTERIES.

"Do you know, Frank," said Manson, a week later, as once more the two
lounged beside their camp fire, "that I have the hardest kind of a task
to keep myself from believing in omens, and especially the 'three
warnings' business? Now, to illustrate, we lost a man out of our company
two nights ago, and he was shot within ten feet of where you and I stood
the night we were shot at. His name was Bishop, and an old schoolmate of
mine. I was on the morning guard-mount detail, and was the first one to
see him as we were going along the picket line. He had been shot in the
head, and most likely never knew what hit him. To make the fate of
Bishop more impressive his going on for night duty instead of myself had
been decided by chance."

"Well, what of it?" said Pullen. "It