“Funeral? No, I seed no funeral,” answered the voice of Merry Jonathan. “Be that Parson Yates huntin’ ghostes again?” “We have come to liberate these unhappy phantoms and so far failed. They passed before I summoned presence of mind to address them.” “‘Passed?’ When? Why for didn’t I see ’em?” “You!” snorted Johnny Cramphorn. “Who be the likes of you to see such holy things?” Jonathan growled and approached Jenifer and her mother. “Best you women come home, else you’ll get your noses frozen off, an’ the spirits won’t thaw ’em for ’e, ’cepting those at home.” “Let us have no irreverence, Jonathan Godbeer,” said the clergyman. “You will do better to add your prayers to ours, that my courage may be sustained and my voice strengthened for the coming ordeal.” The captain of the smugglers did not answer, but strode forth and walked over white ground lately traversed by the procession of spirits. “Doan’t ’e cross theer track, my dear man,” cried Mrs. Pearn; “else ten to one they’ll blast ’e crooked for the rest of your days!” But her caution came too late. Godbeer stood and gazed upon the snow where the spectral hearse had passed. Then he lifted his voice and shouted with all his might. “Gauger Bluett! Gauger Bluett! This here be your job, not parson’s. Quick, man, quick! Ghostes or no ghostes, the snow’s took their shoe marks if I see right. Boots an’ hoofs an’ wheels—no bogies them. Ha-ha! the spirits that passed along here was inside the hearse, not outside!” The Exciseman and others rushed forward to find Merry Jonathan’s words were true, for the new-fallen snow had been trampled with feet of men and horses, and seamed with tracks of heavy wheels. “Theer now! I’ve often thought they rascals might have ’e that way, Cap’n,” said Godbeer, with deep concern. “To think of the wickedness o’ the world! Just come in the trees behind the ruin. ’Tweern’t my business, of course, but more’n wance walkin’ ’pon the beach below, takin’ the air at low tide, I’ve looked up at the face of the cliff by night and fancied I seed ropes pulling things up the precipice. Then I thought, ‘No—surely not. Can’t be no hookem-snivey doings under darkness wi’ such a man as Cap’n Bluett amongst us.’” Jonathan grinned and the moon came out and touched his white teeth. Cramphorn held up a lantern, and Bluett himself uttered words not seemly for the ear of Parson Yates. Then he turned to follow the direction of the smugglers’ funeral. “I bid every honest man come along with me in the King’s name,” he cried. “Them as have done this deed shall smart for theer night’s work yet!” “Us’ll all help ’e heart an’ soul, I’m sure,” declared Merry Jonathan. “We’m a thought behind the rogues, I fear. But what’s that with right ’pon our side?” They scrambled and hastened along the rutted snow, and Cramphorn and Godbeer commented in cheerful chorus on the event as they trotted beside the furious officer.