ill'cent 'seen twar a
candle, an' the white in the mistiness war a 'oman wearin' white an'
carryn' it.

[Illustration: The Phantom of the Foot-bridge 025]

Lookin' ter right an' then ter lef the 'oman kem, with now her right
hand shieldin' the candle she held, an' now layin' it on the hand-rail.
The candle shone on the water, fur it didn't flare, an' when the 'oman
held her hand before it the light made a bright spot on the foot-bredge
an' in the dark air about her, an' on the fir branches over her head.
An' a thin mist seemed to hang about her white frock, but not over her
face, fur when she reached the middle o' the foot-bredge she laid her
hand agin on the rail, an' in the clear light o' the candle Mill'cent
seen the harnt's face. An' thar she beheld her own face; _her own
face_ she looked upon ez she waited thar under the tree watchin' the
foot-bredge; _her own face_ pale an' troubled; her own self dressed in
white, crossin' the foot-bredge, an' lightin' her steps with a corpse's
candle." He drew up the reins abruptly. He seemed in sudden haste to go.
His companion looked with deepening interest at the bridge, although he
followed his guide's surging pathway to the opposite bank. As the two
dripping horses struggled up the steep incline he asked, "Did the man
with her see the manifestation also?"

"He _'lows_ he did," responded Roxby, equivocally. "But when Mill'cent
fust got so she could tell it, 'peared ter me ez Em'ry Keen an fund it
ez much news ez the rest o' we-uns. Mill'cent jes' drapped stone-dead,
accordin' ter all accounts, an' he an' the t'other young folks flung
water in her face till she kem out'n her faint; an' jes' then they hearn
the wagin a-rattlin' along the road, an' they stopped it an' fetched her
home in it. She never told the tale till she war home, an' it skeered
me an' my mother powerful, fur Mill'cent is all the kin we hev got.
Mill'cent is gran'daddy an' gran'mam-my, sons an' daughters, uncles an'
aunts, cousins, nieces, an' nephews, all in one. The only thing I ain't
pervided with is a nephew-in-law, an' I don't need him. Leastwise I
ain't lookin' fur Em'ry Keenan jes' at present."

The pace was brisker when the two horses, bending their strength
sturdily to the task, had pressed up the massive slope from the deep
cleft of the gorge. As the road curved about the outer verge of the
mountain, the valley far beneath came into view, with intersecting
valleys and transverse ranges, dense wi