When first seen he was in the middle of the lane; and how he ever got there without being observed, was a mystery. He was coming toward the barn, and when he arrived opposite to it he turned toward the open doors, and Dan and the terrified negroes backed hastily out of his way. He looked neither to the right nor left, but entered the barn, went the whole length of it, and disappeared through the door at the other end. “That’s ole Jordan, if I ever seed him,” exclaimed one of the negroes, all of whom turned as white as their black skins would let them. “No, sar; ’tain’t ole Jordan, nudder--dat ain’t,” said another; “kase ole Jordan, if it was him, wouldn’t go right fru us dat way, widout speakin’ to nobody. Whar’s he gwine now?” The negro, as he asked this question, started on tiptoe toward the back door, followed by his companions and Dan. Arriving on the spot where the figure had last been seen, they looked in every direction, but could see nothing of it. Gathering a little more courage, they went to the end of the corn-crib and looked around it. There was no one in sight. After that they went around the barn, keeping close together for mutual protection, but old Jordan had disappeared as completely as though he had never been in existence. Then the negroes began to grow frightened again. The hostler declared that he would never go into that barn again; those who had been at work in the field retreated in great haste toward the house; and Dan, who dared not stay there alone, shouldered his rifle, got over the tall gate somehow, and stepped out for home at his very best pace. This was the substance of the story Dan told his father, and Godfrey listened to it with open mouth and staring eyes. He knew that ghosts appeared at night--nobody could talk or laugh him out of that belief, for he knew it to be true by his own experience--but he had never before heard that they grew so bold as to show themselves in broad daylight. “This yere beats my time all holler,” said he, as he found his tongue. “I declar’, folks ain’t safe nowhar, an’ at no time, day nor night. Dannie, that thar bar’l is in that tater-patch as sure’s you’re an inch high; kase if it ain’t, what makes ole Jordan’s haunt come back here foolin’ around? He didn’t act as though he wanted to hurt anybody, did he?” “No, but he had a big club in his hand,” said Dan, whose frightened optics had magnified an ordinary walking-stick, just as they had cheated their owner into believing that the apparition, or whatever it was, had an eye of fire in the middle of his forehead. “What sort of a club was it?” asked his father. “O, a great big one! an’ it was all curled and twisted up like a snake.” “I’ve seed ole Jordan walkin’ with it a million times,” said Godfrey. “He used it this yere way, didn’t he?” he added, picking up a stick, that happened to be lying near him, and imitating the energetic manner in which the old negro handled his cane. “That’s jest the way he done,” said Dan.