Uttering a shriek, Hammerswell leaped erect. As his feet touched the floor something fluttered over him. Instantly he was entangled in the folds of a blanket that had been cast over his head. Then a power that seemed something more than human hurled him to the floor. It was some seconds before the man succeeded in freeing himself from the folds of the blanket. When he finally did so, he sat up and looked around, fully expecting to again behold that ghostly figure. He seemed to be quite alone. “Is it gone?” he chokingly whispered, fearing that once more it would confront him. Having risen weakly to his feet, he found with shaking fingers the matches and struck one of them. As the flame blazed up, the match fell to the floor. Three matches he struck before he succeeded in holding one of them. Lifting the blazing match above his head, he stared around into all the corners, but saw nothing of an alarming nature. At last he succeeded in lighting a lamp, and with this in his hand he searched the room. Save for the blanket lying in the middle of the floor, there was no sign of his ghostly visitor. “But I heard the voice!” he muttered. “I saw the thing! I felt its power! I am a haunted man!” ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER XVIII FAIRHAVEN READY. Toward night the heavy fog that had rested like a pall over Fairhaven Island all day lifted and retreated toward the open sea. At sunset the sky was bespangled with dainty clouds, which were tinted a hundred beautiful shades of such colors as no artist can reproduce. Although on the mainland it was muggy and hot, out there on Fairhaven Island there was a gentle breeze, and twilight drew on softly and silently. After supper, Dick and his friends sat chatting on the veranda of the Central Hotel. Garrett was there, and Bart Hodge was comfortably deposited in a big rocking-chair. Singleton sprawled on a seat, and taken altogether the lads presented a picture of ease and laziness. “Dern my picter!” Tubbs suddenly squealed. “I bet a good squash pie that something besides the fog kept old Hammerswell from bringing his team over here to-day. Said while there was such a fog he couldn’t get the bo’t he’d engaged to make the trip, but I don’t believe it.” “You’re tut-tut-too wise!” exclaimed Chip Jolliby. “What dud-dud-dud-dud-do you believe?” “I bet, by Jim, that there was another reason why he didn’t come! I bet he’s going to have new players.” At this many of the boys laughed.