Produced by David Edwards, Matthew Wheaton and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) [Illustration: "'WARN'T YOU-UNS APOLOGIZIN' TER ME FUR NOT BEIN' A NEPHEW?'"] The Phantoms of the Foot-Bridge And Other Stories BY CHARLES EGBERT CRADDOCK AUTHOR OF "IN THE 'STRANGER PEOPLE'S' COUNTRY" ETC. ILLUSTRATED NEW YORK HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS 1895 Copyright, 1895, by HARPER & BROTHERS _All rights reserved._ CONTENTS THE PHANTOMS OF THE FOOT-BRIDGE HIS "DAY IN COURT" 'WAY DOWN IN LONESOME COVE THE MOONSHINERS AT HOHO-HEBEE FALLS THE RIDDLE OF THE ROCKS ILLUSTRATIONS "'WARN'T YOU-UNS APOLOGIZIN' TER ME FUR NOT BEIN' A NEPHEW?'" THE PHANTOM OF THE FOOT-BRIDGE OLD JOEL QUIMBEY "'WHY'N'T YE GIN DAD THEM MESSAGES?'" "SHE FLUNG HER APRON OVER HER HEAD" "HE STOLE NOISELESSLY IN THE SOFT SNOW" OLD QUIMBEY AND HIS GRANDSON "YET THIS WAS CHRISTMAS EVE" "HE HAD HAD AN ACTIVE DAY, INDUCING A KEEN THIRST" "'LOOK OUT! SOMEBODY'S THAR!'" "SHE SMILED UPON THE BABY" THE BLACKSMITH'S SHOP "THE TABLES OF THE LAW" "'WHAT WORD DID HE SEND TER--_ME_?'" THE PHANTOMS OF THE FOOT-BRIDGE Across the narrow gorge the little foot-bridge stretched--a brace of logs, the upper surface hewn, and a slight hand-rail formed of a cedar pole. A flimsy structure, one might think, looking down at the dark and rocky depths beneath, through which flowed the mountain stream, swift and strong, but it was doubtless substantial enough for all ordinary usage, and certainly sufficient for the imponderable and elusive travellers who by common report frequented it. "We ain't likely ter meet nobody. Few folks kem this way nowadays, 'thout it air jes' ter ford the creek down along hyar a piece, sence harnts an' sech onlikely critters hev been viewed a-crossin' the foot-bredge. An' it hev got the name o' bein' toler'ble onlucky, too," said Roxby. His interlocutor drew back slightly. He had his own reasons to recoil from the subject of death. For him it was invested with a more immediate terror than is usual to many of the living, with that flattering persuasion of immortality in every strong pulsation repudiating all possibility of cessation. Then, lifting his gloomy, long-lashed eyes to the bridge far up the stream, he asked, "Whose 'harnts'?" His voice had a low, repressed cadence, as of one who speaks seldom, grave, even melancholy, and little indicative of the averse interest that had kindled in his sombre eyes. In comparison the drawl of the mountaineer, who had found him heavy company by the way, seemed imbued with an abnormal vivacity, and keyed a tone or two higher than was its wont.