“You’re a nice fellow to keep a promise, are you not?” “Mr. Clarence, have they heard of it up to the Gordons?” asked Godfrey, almost in a whisper. “There’s an awful row up there among the negroes about a ghost, or some such nonsense, if that’s what you mean,” answered Clarence. “There isn’t a black man or woman on the plantation that can be hired to go near the barn, and my uncle is afraid all his hands are going to leave him to gather his crops as best he can. But, of course, that wasn’t what kept you away last night.” “I reckon it was jest that very thing,” said Godfrey. “Then you’re a coward and ought to be heartily ashamed of yourself. That’s my opinion of _you_!” Godfrey jumped up and knocked his heels together, coming down with his feet spread out and his fists doubled up, as he always did when he was angry and about to say something very emphatic. But when he had done this much he stopped short, for he saw that he had not frightened the boy in the least. He had only surprised him. Clarence had never before seen a backwoods fighter limber up his joints previous to going into action. “Well, what do you mean by that?” he asked, coolly. Godfrey did not think it best to say that he had been getting ready to punish the boy for calling him a coward, so he replied: “If you had seed it yourself, Mr. Clarence, what would you say?” “Do you mean that thing you call a haunt? I never saw one, and there are none.” “I know better; kase thar is,” said Godfrey, earnestly. “I seed it myself with my own two eyes in broad daylight, an’ so did Dannie an’ three or four of the gen’ral’s niggers.” “Well, it is very strange that no one else could see it,” said Clarence. “My aunt wanted to take Marsh and me out riding yesterday afternoon, but the hostler wouldn’t hitch up because he was afraid to go near the barn; so uncle, and Don, and Bert, and I went out there and searched high and low for the thing that had frightened him, and could find nothing.” “In course you couldn’t, kase it’s a haunt. Nobody can’t see ’em, ’ceptin’ when they wants to be seed.” “Nonsense!” exclaimed Clarence. “I didn’t suppose there was a man in this day and age of the world who would talk as you do. Did you see any thing yesterday?” “Yes, sar, I did.” “You saw it _yourself_, did you?” “Yes, I done seed it my own self.” “What did it look like?” “It looked jest as ole Jordan did the last time I seed him, afore he run away with the Yanks.” “Then you can safely bet it _was_ he--not his ‘haunt,’ as you call it, but he, himself, in his own proper person. If you had taken hold of him you would have found solid bone and muscle in your hands.” “No, I wouldn’t,” said Godfrey, solemnly. “I had my rifle in my hands, an’ if I had drawed a bead on him, the bullet would have gone through him as slick as grease, an’ never hurt him.”