Early this morning I was asleep over on the shore yonder, just where you can see that blasted pine. It was, I think, about three o'clock, and quite dark. I heard a cry and I sat up to listen. Then I heard the most hideous laugh you can imagine. Then a voice called out again, 'I am dead! Come to my grave! He is dead! I am dead! He is dead!' Then I looked out on the lake and I saw something like a ghost, only it was yellow instead of white. It moved over the water like a spirit, and in a few minutes I couldn't see it any more. Then I made up my mind I wouldn't stay up here any longer. You can camp here if you want to—I am done with Lake Narsac."
The young hunters of the lake looked at each other. What the hermit had to say coincided in many respects with the story told by Jed Sanborn. Certainly there was something queer in these strange calls, and in the appearance of the ghost or spirit in yellow.
"I must say I don't like this," said Shep, after they had questioned the old hermit to ascertain that his story was a straight one. "There seems to be something supernatural about it; don't you think so?"
"Perhaps it can be explained," answered Snap, slowly.
