It was a most nourishing and toothsome repast that they made. Nothing, indeed, could have been more enjoyable. The lake was overflowing with edible fish, for probably no white men had ever drawn one from the waters, and if the Indians took any they were few in number. The light of the fire attracted many to the spot. "Now that we've had such a good supper," said Wharton, "I think it's best to let the fire go out." "I'll hurry the same." Larry scattered the embers with his shoes, so that in a few minutes little was left of them. Then he seated himself beside his friend, and was on the point of making some characteristic remark when Wharton excitedly grasped his arm and whispered: "Hark! do you hear that? What does it mean?" "It's a ghost!" replied the awed Larry; "let's be getting out of this as fast as we can!" CHAPTER XVIII. THE STRANGE SIGHT. From somewhere in the gloomy solitude came a low quavering monotone that had a most uncanny sound in the weird midnight. The youths never before had heard anything of the kind, and the bravest men would have been impressed by it. Larry, in his fright, sprang to his feet, and would have fled deeper into the woods, but his companion caught his arm and whispered: "Wait; let's find out what it is." "Havn't I told ye!" demanded the other with husky impatience; "it's a ghost--it's a hobgoblin." "But hold on, I say; keep still." They made sure that they were well protected by shadow, while they waited for a solution of the extraordinary occurrence. The monotone chant resembled the lower notes of an organ played softly, and with a rise and fall of no more than two or three notes. It was a wild song, which came from some point not far away, though neither could say precisely where. At times it seemed to be overhead, and Wharton caught himself looking into the sky and among the tree-tops for a solution of the mystery. It had a way of ceasing at the end of a minute or two for several seconds, and then was resumed with the same unvarying monotone. "It's coming this way!" whispered Larry, gripping the shoulder of his companion and attempting to rise again; but Wharton forced him back, though he felt very much like plunging in among the trees himself. "If it's a ghost he can't hurt us." "How do you know he can't? I tell ye he's coming this way!" "What makes you say that?" "Because I see him; look beyant, right across the lake--don't ye obsarve him?" Until that moment Wharton had no thought that his friend saw anything--but he did. Directly across from where they were seated, and under the shadow of the opposite bank, where the waters narrowed preparatory to entering the gorge, so that the distance was barely a hundred yards, appeared a point of light. It looked like a star gliding along the shore and keeping in the shadow, so that the fiery glow was all that was visible to the eye.