g fun mit you now. I bring all dese dings mit der saddle
on, und I lose two or three every dime der pony makes his jumpings, und
get down kvick to pick dem up maype as fifty dimes."

"Oh, all right. Quit yer bellyachin', an' come an' help. We can't get
along without hats. That's a cinch."

Carl retired into the house with his bundles.

"Wow! Stop it, cuss ye," yelled Bud, as Carl came out of the cabin.

"I ain't didding noding," said Carl, backing away as Bud rushed upon
him.

"Yer did, yer fat galoot. Yer pulled my hair 'most out by ther roots."

"I ain't pulling no hairs," Carl persisted.

"Then who done it? Yer ther only person what I can see. It's a cinch
some one pulled my hair."

"Say, Pud."

"What?"

"Let us camp outside."

"What, an' freeze ter death before mornin'? Nixy. Not fer me."

"Ain't you heard about der shack?"

"No, I ain't, an' I don't want ter. What I'm after now is ther galoot
what got our hats an' pulled my hair."

"Ain't you heard about der ghost?"

"Ghost!"

Bud was staring at Carl with his jaw dropped.

"Yah. Dis is a ghost haus, filled mit ghostesses."

"Don't you go making any monkey talks at me. There ain't no sich things
as ghosts. That'll do fer ter frighten kids with, but not fer me."

"Den who tooken our hats, und who your golden locks pulled?"

"That's so. Who took them? Tell me, who put all thet dope about this
bein' a haunted house in ther shell what yer calls yer head?"

"Bill Simms, der cow-puncher vot we picked up on der drive,
informationed me about it. He says a man was kilt in dis shack, und dot
he valks aroundt mit it ven der night cooms."

"That Bill Simms is ther worst liar in forty States. He tried ter fill
me with wild dreams about a feller what rides ther line on this yere
ranch what can stand havin' ther contents o' a six-shooter pumped inter
him, an' it don't feaze him none."

"Yah. Dot's der ghostes vot runs dis shack. I don'd vant ter stay here,
Pud. Please let us camp out in der snow."

"Why, yer doodle, can't ther ghost come out yere jest ez easy ez he kin'
go inter ther house--that is, if he's a sure-enough ghost?"

"Yah, I guess he can. Vat vill ve didding?"

"I don't care what you do, but I'm goin' inter ther shack ter start up
ther fire an' get warm. I don't care what you do, but I'm 'most froze."

"Don't leaf me alone, dear Pud. Please, I imploring you."

"Come on, then."

Bud stepped inside, and, as he did so, he uttered an e