And yet when he looked again he found that he could see clear through the houses. This made him just a wee bit nervous. "Ah! here comes some one with a lantern; I'll ask him about it." And sure enough there came bobbing and dancing up the street a ball of light. "He's an awfully unsteady walker, whoever he is," said Billy. For one minute the light would be way up in the air and the next minute almost touching the ground--then it would be on one side of the walk and again on the other. On it came until it was within a few inches of his nose and then he saw that _no one_ was carrying it. Gracious! what a start it gave him--for a moment only and then he was off after it in hot pursuit. But the faster Billy walked the faster the light went--when he ran it ran--and suddenly "puff!" it disappeared. "Huh! I don't like that a little bit," and he stopped and looked around him. The moon cast a pale and sickly light, and the gaunt trees waved and creaked sadly in the moaning breeze, throwing long, claw-like shadows on the ground. Then a sad-voiced bird piped out from the forest, "Whip-poor-will--whip-poor-will--whip-poor-will-o'-the-wisp." "That's what it was, of course," said Billy, sturdily sticking his fists into his pockets--"a will-o'-the-wisp." And back he trudged whistling as hard as he could whistle. Because whistling _does_ keep a fellow's courage up on a lonely walk, doesn't it? It certainly cheered Billy a great deal, so that when he got back to the place he had lately left he was laughing at his fears. And then the moon went under a cloud. "Goodness! it's dark," he said half aloud. "Isn't it though?" whispered a voice right behind him. If Billy had been a wax figure on a pivot he could not have turned around quicker than he did--and then when he _had_ turned he was sorry that he had, for looking into his face was a great, white flabby head on a long, wavery body. It did not seem to have any eyes, and yet Billy felt them looking into his. It did not seem to have any mouth, and yet Billy had heard it speak. "Wha-wha-what d-did you say?" he asked in a quavering voice; and he distinctly felt each separate hair on his head grow stiff as a poker and his cap rise a couple of inches from his crown. "I said it was dark. What's the matter, do you stammer?" "N-not usually," said Billy, trying to set his teeth and stop the tune they were chattering. "Then I wish you'd stop--it's very annoying," said the figure, chuckling to himself. By a great effort Billy got his lower jaw under control and said: "Who are you? Your manner is familiar, but I don't recognize your face." "Oh! I'm a Ghost." "A Ghost!" exclaimed Billy, stepping back. "Yes--I've met you lots of times," said the Ghost. "Who were you when--when you were alive? Perhaps if you'd mention the name," and Billy tried to recollect some of his former friends.