“Willingly, sir,” said the landlord; “but I am hearty sorry I cannot give you a bed, for, d’ye see, we’ve got several farmers who’ve been to the fair near by, and they’re rum sort of chaps, who wouldn’t stir an inch for anyone; free and easy, sir. I will, as you observed, give you a place in the hay-loft, where you must put up for to-night with a truss of hay for your pillow.” “Good enough,” replied the young officer; “I’ve often had a worse bed than that. Come along, Tim, my boy; make ready, and to the right about—march!” “A thought strikes me,” replied the landlord, “but I dare not propose it.” “What is it? Speak out,” said Ned. “Well, sir, I have at some distance from here another house, which I’ve had to let for these ten years, but nobody will live there, because they say as how it’s ‘haunted,’ though I’ve been in it several times myself in the day, and I have never seen anything.” “But I have, though,” bawled out the sexton. “’Twas but the other night, as I was coming from the veterinary surgeon, and as I passed by your house yonder, I sees a light in your top room, and a large hand stretching out o’ the window, that gived the shutter such a slap. I trembles now at the bare idea of it, and if that there young gemman takes my advice he’d better sleep in the hay-loft. Nothing will disturb him there.” “I thank you,” said Ned, “for warning me of the dangers I may have to encounter; but I have always been fond of singular adventures, and as this promises to be one of uncommon attraction, if the landlord will lead the way, I am ready to spend the night in the ‘haunted mansion.’” “Amen,” said the sexton, “one bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. ‘Drink deep, and snore deep,’ that’s my motto, and for my own part I would rather sleep quietly here than run the risk of being murdered, slaughtered, or Heaven knows what, by ghosts or the Skeleton Crew.” “Not so with me,” said the dauntless son of Neptune, dropping at the same time a purse into the landlord’s hands, “at all events, if I don’t return, ’twill be but a job for you, Mr. Sexton,” said he, with an arch look. “My servant Tim may stay here if he likes, and I will take him up, on my way home to-morrow morning, if hobgoblins don’t eat me up before.” “I’ll not stay here, Master Ned, but go with you. I never saw a ghost, and would very much like to see one,” said Tim with a grin. “Well, my boy, your wish shall be gratified; go and fetch the pistols out of the holsters, which, with another trusty friend I have here (striking at the same time on the hilt of his sword, which was lying on the bench) will give them a warm reception should they wish to annoy us.” Ned and Tim were soon ready. In the meantime the landlord prepared a bottle of brandy, some pipes and tobacco, which he put in a large bag, and slung over his shoulder.