“I guess Nat’s been reading too many novels,” was Marie’s opinion. “I have not! There isn’t a thing up here to read anyhow, if I wanted to. I was thinking of sending for a few. But I _did_ see a face at that window,” and Natalie shook her pretty head vigorously to emphasize her words. “It was just as you spoke,” she went on, addressing Old Hanson. “I wouldn’t be at all s’prised,” he admitted. “I’m sure there’s a hant here, and that’s why I’m movin’. I wouldn’t stay here another night.” “Tell us more about it,” urged Mrs. Bonnell. “Maybe it can all be explained by natural causes. I never heard of a ghost yet, that couldn’t.” “This ’un can’t!” declared the old hermit. “Sech groans an’ cries, an’ goin’s on! An’ cold winds sweeping over you ’fore you know what’s up.” “Maybe you left a door open?” suggested Marie. “No’m, I never do that. It’s the ghost—that’s what ’tis. Th’ mill is haunted. I’ve allers heard ’twas, but I never believed it until lately. Now, I’m goin’ to quit!” The girls and the Guardian gathered closer together and watched the preparations to move on the part of Old Hanson. He had most of his household goods out of the shack next to the mill now. As he went back for something one of the horses started slightly. “There it is! There it is!” suddenly cried the old hermit from within the shack. “It jest brushed past me! I felt a cold hand on the back of my neck! Oh, I’m a goner! I’m doomed. It’s the call of fate!” “Whoa there!” called the farm hand to the restless steeds, that had jumped nervously at the sound of the old man’s weird scream. “Come on!” cried Natalie. “I’ve had enough of this. I won’t sleep a wink to-night. Come on, girls!” “Yes, it’s—getting late,” added Marie. “We must get back to camp.” “Not to mention staying here after dark,” added Mabel. “Oh! Perhaps it’s silly, but I don’t like it. Are you sure you saw something, Nat?” “Of course I did. I don’t know what it was, but it looked like a face— Oh, don’t let’s talk about it,” she begged. Mr. Rossmore had rushed from the shack with the last few of his household goods. He threw them into the wagon. “Go on!” he cried to the farm hand. “Drive away from here as fast as you can. I don’t ever want to see the place again. It near had me that time.” “What was it?” demanded Mrs. Bonnell. “The hant, sure. Oh, what a place!” and leaping up on the wagon seat he called to the horses which seemed glad enough to leave the eerie place. “Come on, girls!” cried Natalie, as the wagon rattled off down the road. “We must get back to camp.” “Before dark,” added Mabel. “My! but we’ve had a full day!” declared Alice. “But we found the Gypsy camp.” “And a lot of good it did us,” said Marie. “We didn’t locate the girl we wanted.” “Oh, the police can do that,” said Mrs. Bonnell. “We’ll tell them where the camp is, and the constables can look after the suspects.”