The officer turned alertly in his saddle to look back over his shoulder. "That wouldn't s'prise me none," said the capable deputy, whose large experience would seem to furnish precedent for any given phenomenon. "I knowed a man out our way,--mighty loud talker and a toler'ble active cusser,--whilst callin' hawgs, hedn't tuk no special notice o' the rocks answerin', till one day whenst he war 'dad-burnin'' an' 'all-firin'' round till the very shoats looked blue. He stopped ter take breath, an' he hearn a voice, powerful coarse, out'n the woods jes' yellin' like sin, 'Fire-burn!' 'Fire-burn!' an' he knowed that minit who't war. An' in course he jes' hedn't no mo' interes' in nuthin', an' jes' dwindled away." He paused abruptly. "But--but--who war it ez said 'Fire-burn' with a coarse voice?" breathlessly demanded the believer in spectral manifestations. "Why, Satan, to be sure, ye fool," replied the deputy. "I useter hear him myself a-callin' in the woods, 'Fire-burn!' whenst Ad Peters would git ter cussin' his hawgs! Jes' so"--He lifted his voice in a wild, fantastic cadence, and throughout the long stretches of the mountain fastnesses the words, as of some demented incendiary, echoed and re-echoed, varied presently with mocking cries of unpleasant falsetto laughter, set astir when the officer's gravity failed. The patience of his friend had given way. "Look-a-hyar, 'Dolphus Ross," he broke out angrily, "this hyar ain't no way ter go ter apperhend criminals, a-hollerin' like a plumb catamount through the woods." "I don't want ter s'prise nuthin'," said the crafty deputy sheriff, "that is nuthin' unyearthly, on its yerrands what no mortial knows about, an' mebbe git s'prised myself plumb down ter the doors o' the pit. Ye know them ez sees harnts either draps down dead or loses thar minds, one. They 'low now'days ez all the crazies kem so from seein' sperits. An' ye know yerse'f, an off'cer of the law needs brains." "Ef ye don't know yer bizness no better'n that, I be goin' ter l'arn it ter ye. Ye 'pear mo' like a jay-hawker'n a off'cer o' the law," retorted the other tartly. But not even with this rude touch upon the sensitive nerves of official pride could he control the elusive and slippery deputy. "That's a fac', Pearce. But the truth is, I be all-fired 'feared in these hyar lonesome places, whar humans air seldom an' few, o' seein' suthin' or hearin' suthin' what no mortial eyes or ears air expected ter see an' hear. So I like ter hear the sound o' my own voice,--let 'em know I'm a-comin'. Even with two or three men with me, it's so darned fur an' lonesome! I 'pear less like a harnt myself, an' less apt ter meet up with one, ef I make myself sorter lively. I'm a mighty quiet cuss in town. I'm a--What's--what's that?" he broke off sharply.