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Updated: May 21, 2025
We slipped the reins over the horses' heads and walked back to the bridge. Jud went on with his talking. "Now, you can't get a horse on to a dangerous bridge, to save your life, an' you can't get him on ice that ain't strong enough to hold him, an' you can't get him to eat anything that'll hurt him, an' you can't get him lost. An' old Clabe says there's Bible for it that a horse can see spooks.
Still the tale had splendid conditions precedent, and old Clabe arose to its support with many an eloquent wag of his head. I was running through this very ghost story when El Mahdi stopped in the road and pricked up his ears. At the same moment Jud and Ump pulled up beside me. Perhaps their minds were in the same channel. We listened for full a minute.
This was the acre of ghosts. Tale after tale I had heard, sitting on the knee of the old grey negro Clabe, about the horrors of this haunted "bend" in the Gauley. There, when I was a child, had lived old Bodkin in a stone house, now a ruin, by the river, a crooked, mean old devil with a great hump, and eyes like a toad.
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