from here. Folks says it's haunted, and them sort of places I steer clear from."
"Can you tell me about it?" asked Mr. Jenks, eagerly. "I am interested in such things."
"I can't tell you much about it," was the reply, "and I wouldn't git too interested, if I was you. It might not be healthy. All I know is that one time my partner and I were in hard luck. We got grub-staked, and went out prospectin'. We strayed into a wild part of the country about sixty mile from here, and one night we camped on a mountain—a wild, desolate place it was too."
The miner stopped, and began leisurely filling his pipe.
"Well?" asked Tom, trying not to let his voice sound too eager.
"Well, that was Phantom Mountain."
The miner seemed to have finished his story.
"Is that all?" asked Mr. Jenks. "How did you know it was Phantom Mountain?"
"'Cause we seen the ghost—my partner and I—that's why!" exclaimed the man, puffing on his pipe. "As I said, we was campin' there, and 'long about midnight we seen somethin' tall and white, and all shimmerin', with a sort of yellow fire, slidin' down the side of the mountain. It made straight for our camp."
