It was all an uncanny, eerie, ghostly recital; yet all real and true to Chip, whose eyes never once left the Indian's face while he was speaking. Angie, too, was spellbound. Never had she heard anything like it; and while believing it was all a mere myth and legend, a superstitious fancy, maybe, of this strange Indian, its telling was none the less interesting. Ray was also enthralled, and he was half convinced that the forest might, after all, contain spooks and goblins. But Old Cy was only a curious listener. He, too, had woven many a fantastic tale of the sea, its storms and monsters leaping from the crests of waves, and all such figments of the imagination, and this fable was but the same. The only feature of passing interest to him was the fact that any Indian had such a vivid imagination and could relate such a mingled ghost story so coherently. Old Tomah ceased speaking even more abruptly than he began, then looked from one to another of the group, perhaps to see if they all believed him, and then without a word or even "good night," he rose and stalked out of the cabin. For a few moments Chip watched Angie and the rest, anxious to see how this explanation of her own belief affected them, and then Old Cy spoke. "I'd hate to be campin' with that Injun," he said, "or sharin' a wigwam with him night-times. It 'ud be worse'n a man I sot up with once that had the jim-jams, 'n' I'd see spites and spooks for a week arter." Angie's sleep was troubled that night, and in her dreams she saw white spectres and a man with a hideously scarred face and one eye watching her. Ray also felt the uncanny influence of such a tale and "saw things" in his sleep. But Old Cy, who had securely barred the doors and then had rolled himself in a blanket with rifle handy, thought only of what Ray had seen that day and who it might be. CHAPTER XI "An honest man's the best critter God ever made, an' the skeercest."--Old Cy Walker. Old Cy's suspicions were correct. It was neither bear, deer, nor wildcat that Ray saw skulking along the ridge, but the half-breed. Believing Chip's father had taken her out of the wilderness, or more likely up-stream to find a place with these campers, he had come here to seek her. To find her here, as he of course did, only convinced him that his suspicions were true and that her father had thus meant to rob him. Two determined impulses now followed this discovery: first, to make the girl he had bought a prisoner, carry her into the woods, and then, when the chance came, revenge himself on McGuire. No sense of law, or decency even, entered his calculation. He was beyond such scruples, and what he wanted was his only law.