"A body of South Carolina militia is marching across country from the south. One of my men heard of it down at Turner Court House last night and rode to where the troops were encamped. He learned that it was a practice march for the militia. There's several companies of infantry, so he reports, and a piece of artillery." "Bully for old Grissy!" exclaimed Ardmore. "They're coming this way, are they, Paul?" And the three bent over the map. "That is the place, sir. They seem to be planning to get around Turner's without stirring up the town. But it would take a good deal to wake up Turner's," laughed the big German. Jerry placed her finger on the state line. "If they dare cross that--if they as much as dare!" "If they dare we shall show them a few things. Take all the men you need, Paul, to watch their movements. That will do." The forester lingered. "You remember that we spoke the other day of the log house on Raccoon Creek, where the Appleweights had driven off our man?" "Yes, Paul. It is where the state line crosses the heavy woods and the farthest outpost, so to speak, on my property. When you cross the little creek, you're in South Carolina. You said some of these Appleweight fellows had been cutting off the timber down there, if I remember rightly." "Yes, sir," replied the forester, twirling his cap awkwardly. "But some of the people on the estate have said--" He broke off in an embarrassment so unlike him that Jerry and Ardmore looked at him curiously. "Well, Paul, what's the matter? If the cabin has been burned down it's no serious matter." "Why, sir; some of the men passing there at night say they see lights and hear sounds in the cabin, though no one from the estate goes there. A child died in the house last spring and--well, you know how some of these people are!" "Ghosts!" cried Ardmore. "The property is growing more valuable all the time! Tell them that whoever captures the ghost and brings it here shall have a handsome present. So far it's only a light in an abandoned house--is that it?" "Well, they say it's very strange," and it was clear that the German was not wholly satisfied to have his employer laugh off the story. "Cheer up, Paul. We have bigger business on hand than the chasing of ghosts just now. When we get through with these other things I'll go over there myself and take a look at the spook." As Paul hurried away, Jerry seized a pen and wrote this message: Rutherford Gillingwater, Adjutant-General, Camp Dangerfield, Azbell, N. C.: Move all available troops by shortest route to Kildare at once and report to me personally at Ardsley. Make no statements to newspapers. Answer. DANGERFIELD, Governor. "I guess that will bring him running," said Ardmore, calling a servant and ordering the message despatched immediately. "But when he comes, expecting to report to the governor and finds that he isn't here, what do you suppose he will do?"