the miners smoked and chatted while resting their
weary limbs.

Suddenly, in the midnight stillness they heard a strange noise in the
other part of the cabin. Some one was moaning and crying for help. There
was no mistaking the sound, and both men were wide awake and intently
listening.

It was the cry of some one in distress. The sounds grew more blood
curdling. Nelson, unable to restrain himself longer, ran outside to
investigate. Going to the window he looked inside. The sight he beheld
congealed his blood, and fastened him to the spot as in a trance. This
was the image of a man surrounded by a cloud of white, mist-like
phosphorescent light, a deep scar standing out like a bleeding gash down
the side of the head. Then the forgotten story of the murdered La Salle
came to his mind, and for several minutes he was chained to the spot by
the terror of the spectacle.

The apparition was half lying upon the floor, with arm uplifted, as if
warding off a blow from some deadly instrument. Finally, in the
desperation of his terror, Nelson called his partner to come to his
assistance. Upon the approach of his companion he summoned enough
courage to step to the door at the other end of the cabin, and try to
open it. It was held fast by some superhuman agency, which allowed the
door to be only partly opened.

Swanson, at sight of the ghostly visitor, was not so badly overcome as
his friend, and having an inquisitive turn of mind, wished to find if
the apparition really existed. He called out, demanding to be told who
was there, but no answer came.

Still the mysterious, unearthly noises came through the cabin door. No
soughing of the wind could make such sounds had a tempest been blowing,
but a deathly stillness prevailed, and no breath of air stirred.

Then it was that Swanson gathered all that was left of his fast
disappearing courage, and said: "In the name of the Father, Son and Holy
Spirit, are you demon, man or ghost?"

Suddenly the door opened and in the uncertain, misty light the
apparition raised its hands to the stars as if in prayer, then it grew
dark and the ghostly visitor vanished as if the earth had engulfed it
forever.

While turning this tale over in mind later, I came to the conclusion,
which seems a reasonable one, that some fortunate miner had, in all
probability, hidden an amount of golden treasure in or about the cabin
on the creek, and wishing to keep others away, had circulated the ghost
story wi