Dat li’l’ black boy ’most jump’ outen he skin, ’ca’se right dar in de paff is six ’mendjus big ghostes, an’ de bigges’ ain’t got but one leg. So li’l’ black Mose jes natchully handed dat hunk of wood to dat bigges’ ghost, an’ he say’: “’Scuse me, Mistah Ghost; Ah ain’t know dis your leg.” An’ whut dem six ghostes do but stand round an’ confabulate? Yas, sah, dass so. An’ whin dey do so, one say’: “’Pears like dis a mighty likely li’l’ black boy. Whut we gwine do fo’ to _re_ward him fo’ politeness?” An’ anudder say’: “Tell him whut de truth is ’bout ghostes.” So de bigges’ ghost he say’: “Ah gwine tell yo’ somefin’ _im_portant whut yever’body don’t know: Dey _ain’t_ no ghosts.” An’ whin he say’ dat, de ghostes jes natchully vanish away, an’ li’l’ black Mose he proceed’ up de paff. He so scared he hair jes yank’ at de roots, an’ whin de wind go’, “Oo-_oo_-o-o-o!” an de owl go’, “Whut-_whoo_-o-o-o!” an’ de rain-doves go, “You-_you_-o-o-o!” he jes tremble’ an’ shake’. An’ byme-by he come’ to de cemuntary whut betwixt an’ between, an’ he shore is mighty skeered, ’ca’se dey is a whole comp’ny of ghostes lined up along de road, an’ he ’low’ he ain’t gwine spind no more time palaverin’ wid ghostes. So he step’ offen de road fo’ to go round erbout, an’ he step’ on a pine-stump whut lay right dar. “_Git offen my chest!_” say’ a big voice all on a suddent, ’ca’se dat stump am been selected by de captain ob de ghostes for to be he chest, ’ca’se he ain’t got no chest betwixt he shoulders an’ he legs. An’ li’l’ black Mose he hop’ offen dat stump right peart. Yes, _sah_; right peart. “’Scuse me! ’Scuse me!” dat li’l’ black Mose beg’ an’ plead’, an’ de ghostes ain’t know whuther to eat him all up or not, ’ca’se he step’ on de boss ghostes’s chest dat a-way. But byme-by they ’low they let him go ’ca’se dat was an accident, an’ de captain ghost he say’, “Mose, you Mose, Ah gwine let you off dis time, ’ca’se you ain’t nuffin’ but a misabul li’l’ tremblin’ nigger; but Ah want you should _re_mimber one thing mos’ particular’.” “Ya-yas, sah,” say’ dat li’l’ black boy; “Ah, ’ll remimber. Whut is dat Ah got to remimber?” De captain ghost he swell’ up, an’ he swell’ up, twell he as big as a house, an’ he say’ in a voice whut shake’ de ground: “Dey ain’t no ghosts.” So li’l’ black Mose he bound to remimber dat, an’ he rise’ up an’ mek’ a bow, an’ he proceed’ toward home right libely. He do, indeed. An’ he gwine along jes as fast as he kin, whin he come’ to de aidge ob de buryin’-ground whut on de hill, an’ right dar he bound to stop, ’ca’se de kentry round about am so populate’ he ain’t able to go frough. Yas, sah, seem’ like all de ghostes in de world habin’ a conferince right dar. Seem’ like all de ghosteses whut yever was am havin’ a convintion on dat spot. An’ dat li’l’ black Mose so skeered he jes fall’ down on a’ old log whut dar an’ screech’ an’ moan’. An’ all on a suddent de log up and spoke: “_Get offen me! Get offen me!_” yell’ dat log.