“_Now!_” Tregarvon commanded, setting the pace for the charge; but panic was before them. Just as the man was withdrawing his arm a deep groan shuddered upon the stillness. With a cry that was like the snarl of a cornered animal, the man leaped up and flung out his arms as if to ward a blow. At that the huddled figure kneeling among the sunken graves groaned again, following the groan with a terrified, “_Oh_, my Lordy!” when he saw the man at the boiler head. That was sufficient. At the spot where the man with a handkerchief about his head had stood clutching the air there was a sudden void, and the noise of his crashing retreat through the undergrowth had died away before Tregarvon and Carfax could give chase. They captured the “ghost doctor,” however, and were not greatly surprised when the old negro turned out to be Uncle William. His night wandering to the mountain top was sufficiently explained when he pointed to the sunken grave ringed about with bits of broken china. “Dah’s whah my ol’ ’ooman is, marstehs; yas, suh; right dah’s whah dey bury huh. Dat triflin’ niggah, Sam, from de ol’ place, come erlong down de mounting day befo’ yistidday, an’ he say you-all gemman is a-trompin’ ’round an’ mashin’ up t’ings in de ol’ buryin’-ground. I know dat ain’ so, but I says to mahse’f, ‘Willyum, yo’ gwine right up dah and put dem li’l grabestones you been a-savin’ ’round Mammy Ann; den Marsteh Tregarbin ain’ gwine ’sturb nuffin’ belongin’ ter you.’” “No,” said Tregarvon soberly. “You may be sure we shan’t disturb your wife’s grave--or any of the others, if we can help it. I didn’t know, until after we had begun work here, that this open place was a burying-ground. Now tell me; do you know who that man was who stood there by the engine and made motions at you?” “I ’spec’ dat wuz de ol’ debbil, hese’f, marsteh. Couldn’t a-been nobody else; no, suh.” “What makes you think it was the devil, Uncle William?” Carfax wanted to know. “’Cause he go off, _bing!_ in a puff o’ yaller smoke when I say ‘_Oh_, my Lordy!’” Tregarvon had been groping purposefully in the old man’s explanation to determine if it held any of the missing puzzle pieces. “You say Sam, from the ‘old place’ told you we were working here, Uncle William; who is Sam, and where is the ‘old place’?” “Sam, he’s dat triflin’ no-’count niggah what Marsteh Judge keep for stable niggah--when dey ain’ nuffin in de stable ’ceppin’ de ol’ dapple-gray dat’s a heap older’n what I is, _hyuh, hyuh!_ But de ol’ Marsteh Judge ain’ gwine tu’n nobody off’n de ol’ place whilst dar’s a rind o’ bacon lef’ in de gre’t house; no, suh; he ain’ gwine do dat!” It was at this point that Tregarvon sprang his small trap. “Why did he turn you off, Uncle William?” “Who, me? No, suh--I--Miss Dick, she----” “It’s all right; never mind, Uncle William,” Tregarvon hastened to say. “Now we’ll undertake to keep the devil away while you go on setting your tombstones. I’m sorry we had to break in.”