was old Deacon Jones with a lantern. He was out hunting up a stray cow, and was considerably surprised and not a little startled at the sudden appearance of three boys tumbling over the fence, pell-mell, in such a terrible state of excitement.
As soon as we recovered a little we proceeded to explain the matter by stating that we had been chased by a most awful ghost ever heard of in those parts. "It was at least fifteen feet tall, wore a long white shroud, had a head of burning fire, and chased us clear across the field."
"Pooh!" grunted the old deacon, "you're as crazy as loons. Thar ain't no sich things as ghosts. Come 'long an' find out what it is. I'll agree ter eat all the ghosts on Ossipee Mountain."
We boys were still badly frightened, but reassured by the presence of the valorous deacon we consented to return, provided he would go ahead.
We retraced our steps, and soon Bill, pulling the deacon's sleeve, whispered in tremulous tones: "There it is!"
"Yes, that's jest what I thought; why, ye simpletons, ye've been scart out o' yer senses an' come nigh breakin' yer necks runnin' away from a scarecrow that I fixed up myself ter keep the thievin' crows from pulling up my corn," and the deacon set down his lantern and laughed so loud that the mountain echoes caught the infection and laughed again.
"But his head is just like a ball of fire, and his arms kept waving about, just as though they wanted to hit us," said Jerry, still unable to comprehend the affair.
"Wal, come 'long an' find out all about it," answered the deacon, as he proceeded toward the cause of so much excitement.
"Thar, ye see it's nothin' but an old white birch stub, about seven feet high. I put an old white smock frock onto it, an' I fixed some beech withes inter the arms a-puppus to have the wind blow 'em about an' scare the pesky crows. That wonderful hat's only an' old tin pail, an' the burnin'
