s coming this way!" Merry whispered. "Just keep still now, all of
you!"

Rattleton seemed about to bolt from the place, though the others were
bravely standing their ground.

"No ghost there!" said Browning. "That's a live man."

"It's Barney," Merry declared. "He is not dead. His head is tied up."

"But what makes the--him sneak along in that way?" Rattleton gasped.
"Whee-giz, it makes my blood run cold! Ugh!"

"Just keep still, and we shall soon find out!" Frank sharply commanded,
in a whisper.

The ghostly figure came slowly up the walk. Nearer and nearer it drew,
walking as if it did not fear discovery at that late hour.

"There is another!" Rattleton whispered.

The figure of a woman came into view, hurrying rapidly along the path
after Mulloy, and seeming to be in pursuit of him, though he appeared
not to know it.

"Now!" Merry whispered. "Ready, Hodge--now!"

He leaped through the window, with Bart at his side. The ghostly figure
was but a few yards away. Before it could turn in the direction of the
sound they were half-way across the intervening space.

"Barney! Mulloy!" Frank called.

The figure uttered a cry, and started to run. But Frank's pace was too
swift. Almost in the next instant his hand fell on the shoulder of the
specter.

"Don't you know me, Barney? I'm Merriwell!"

The figure ceased its struggles.

"Hurroo! Is it yez for thrue, Merriwell? I t'ought it wor an officer
thryin' to arrist me."

"Break loose and run, ye fool!" was squealed in a high, feminine voice.
"Run, Barney, dear--run!"

"Niver!" Barney declared. "Niver will I run from a fri'nd loike
Merriwell!"

"But you'll be put in jail! You'll be hung!" the woman shrieked, in a
vain effort to stampede the Irish lad. "Them fellers is officers."

Bart had pushed up, so that Mulloy could recognize him.

"Save me frum her, Frankie!" Barney pleaded. "Woo-oo! Begorra! She's
crazier than wildcats!"

Then he whispered:

"The ould sinner wants to marry me. Think av thot! She's been hoidin' me
frum the officers fer matrimoonial poorpuses. Take me away from her,
Frankie, darlint! Oi've kilt a thramp, and I'm in peril av bein' hoong
for it; but I'd rather be hoong than to marry such a cat as thot! Bad
cess to her!"

"Gentlemen, the poor fellow is out of his head!" the woman purred,
modulating that shrieking voice. "His head has been hurt, and he don't
know nothin' that he's talkin' 'bout."

Barney clung to Merriwell and Hodg