"That old cuss is not real. He's around here every once in a while, and always has been. Nobody knows where he lives nor where he comes from or goes to. He must have been in a good humor or you wouldn't have caught so many fish, because he can give you good luck or bad luck; and there's always something strange happenin' when you hear of him around. Last night something had one of my horses out and run him nearly to death; his mane was all tied in knots this morning, and he was wringin' wet with sweat when I went into the barn; and the barn doors were all fastened just as I had left them, too. You never can tell what's goin' to happen when that old devil's pretendin' to fish up and down the creek." The boy told the story to a number of people, and soon found that practically all of the old-timers thought just the same as did Joe Coberly, and that they believed that there was something mysterious and unreal about the fisherman he met at the bullhead hole. II. The boy treasured up what had been told him about the ghost fisherman, and although he had been taught at home that there were no ghosts, every story of that nature interested him. One night he was at the home of Uncle Bill Matney. It was about ten o'clock, and they were all seated around the big fire that was roaring in the fireplace. Uncle Bill was playing "Natchez Under the Hill" on the fiddle, when suddenly they heard a horse coming on a dead run over the rocky road that led toward the house. The fiddle stopped, and everybody listened, and Uncle Bill said: "That must be Little Jim Lynn. Nobody else is damn fool enough to ride like that." Pretty soon the horse stopped by the side of the house, and they could all hear the saddle hit the ground, and then the bridle, after which the horse trotted away and Little Jim stalked into the house. As he pulled off his gloves and threw them in a corner, Uncle Bill said: "What the hell's the matter, Jim?" And Jim said: "O, nothing, only a damn ghost--saw him down on the bluff by Mark Young's corner." Jim was white as death, and everybody listened, but he didn't say anything more until Uncle Bill said: "War he beckonin', Jim?" And Jim said: "No, he warn't beckonin', but he was there just the same." Uncle Bill tuned up his fiddle, and before he resumed playing, said: "Well, if he warn't beckonin' it's all right." Just at that point the boy broke in to inquire what difference it made whether the ghost was beckoning, and two or three explained to him that if a ghost beckoned to you that someone in your family would die within a year. III. The boy was just skeptic enough to have plenty of fun listening to ghost stories by people who believed or half way believed them; and it became a habit of his to bring up the subject in talking with different people, and listen to their ghost stories if any might be provoked.