nlit or starlit hours, and riding hither had anticipated a leisurely
return. So long as he was back at the farm by morning he saw no reason
to hurry himself before.

Then he found himself listening to Monty's question:

"You say, Guide, that these very woods, right around us, are 'haunted?'"

"Sure. Hark!"

There was a strange unearthly cry from somewhere in the distance and the
man continued:

"Some call that a screech-owl! But I know it's the cry of a girl who was
lost in this forest. Why, Anton, boy, what's happened you?"

Anton had suddenly swayed in his seat and his face under its copper skin
had turned ghastly pale.

CHAPTER XIV

HOW MOLLY CAME TO CAMP

"Yes, she was the daughter of one of the French squatters on that very
lake we've fished this day. Susette they called her, and she was days in
the woods. Out of this _Laque de la Mort_, they drew her body; but
still, on dark nights, her spirit wanders as it wandered then, before
she sought or found rest in the pool. 'Tis easy, sure. Take one of you
men, even, and set you away from all the guide-marks we've made, you
could not find your way save by some inherited instinct. We Indians,
descendants of the forest men, get that instinct with our birth; even we
who have lived among the white men all our days. That Anton yonder,
though he has been housed under a roof ever since he was born, I warrant
me he could be set in some unknown wilderness but would find a way out.
Is it not so, Anton?" asked the half-breed story-teller, shading his
eyes from the firelight to look at the boy.

An instant later he had risen and bent above Anton, who now cowered in
his corner his head bent upon his knees and his whole attitude one of
keen distress.

"Lad, what's amiss with you?"

Anton tossed off the kindly hand just laid upon his shoulder and raised
a face that had grown haggard, with wild terrified eyes staring into the
questioner's face.

"'Tis a lie, no? There is no girl wanders the forest nights! You are
fool, Merimee, with your words!"

"That's as a man judges. Ghost tales were asked and told, and one is
true. I know it. But fear not, lad. No spirit will molest to his harm
one who rides through the wood aright, in the fear of God and with
honesty in his heart. As for the ghost of poor Susette, hapless maid!
Would not one with a spark of manhood in him seek to help her if he
could? But alas! When one is dead, even living men with hearts of
courage can