“How do you know that?” stammered Jim, quickly interrupting him. “Some one was here, but it wasn’t a road man, it was a ghost.” While he said this, he shivered from head to foot, and looked around anxiously on all sides. “Don’t be a fool,” I laughed. “Tell us a straight story. What has happened to you?” “Meanwhile we had reached the cabin, and, as I sprang from the saddle, Jim pointed, with trembling hand, to the ground.” “Here, look at this; you can see the prints of the ghostly horse’s hoofs,” said he, in a voice full of excitement. “I was cleaning up things in the cabin, when I suddenly heard a noise outside. I thought you fellows had returned, and went out-o’-doors to meet you. Horrified, I sprang back; before me, on a horse, nothing but skin and bones, was a man without a hat, with long black hair. He sat bolt upright in the saddle; he had a thick black beard; his face was ashen gray, and two eyes, wide open, stared at me in a ghastly way as only a specter’s can. I wanted to cry out, but my tongue seemed glued to my mouth--I felt my hair standing on end. Then the ghost turned his horse--started off at a gallop--I could plainly hear the rattling of the rider’s and the horse’s bones.” Jim shuddered again at the remembrance of the horrifying spectacle. “That was the same fellow that we followed,” cried Anderson; and I could only agree with him. We then told Jim of our adventure, and quieted him by reasoning that it could not have been a ghost, but simply a human being, possibly some lunatic. It was my custom before going to bed, to look after the horses. I left the hut that evening as usual, but hardly had I taken a few steps when suddenly I stopped as though my feet were rooted to the ground. Directly in front of me, in the bright moonlight, stood the same ghastly rider. His long black hair hung loosely round a ghastly face. The eyes were sunk deep in their sockets. The mouth was wide open, and the glimmer of the white teeth could be seen behind the black beard; in his left hand he held the reins, while the right hung limply by his side. He sat in the saddle as though hewn out of stone, without the slightest motion. I had the same feeling as Jim. I wanted to cry out, but could not; only a hoarse whisper came from my throat, but instinctively my hand sought the revolver at my side. I slowly raised my six-shooter, and covered the frightful apparition. Then I found my voice. “Who are you? Answer, or I’ll shoot!” I said. At the sound of my voice, the horse, which consisted of nothing but skin and bones, jumped to one side, and both horse and rider went off at a breakneck gallop, the bullets which I sent after them taking no effect. I distinctly heard the peculiar rattle of which Jim had spoken, and which gradually grew dimmer and dimmer, until nothing could be distinguished but the far-off clatter of horse’s hoofs on the rocky ground. My heart was beating violently as I reëntered the hut.