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"To Spring Brook. Wash, how far from here is the next camping place?" questioned Grace, turning to the colored boy. "Wall, Ah reckons it's 'bout er whoop an' er holler from heyeh." "So far as that?" chuckled Hippy Wingate. "It's terrible!
"Howd', folks," greeted Jed Thompson, fairly bursting into the camp. "You-all don't know whether that critter Spurgeon has been heyeh, does ye?" "Just cast your eagle eyes about and see if you don't think it looks as if somebody had been here, old top," answered Hippy Wingate, taking in the camp and the tethering ground with a wave of the hand. "Our ponies are gone.
Mebby 'twon't be till mornin', fer we've got t' git that houn', Lum, an' Bat Spurgeon, else they won't be no livin' round heyeh. This yer property?" with a sweeping wave of the hand. Hippy nodded. "Good thing we-uns cleaned out the Spurgeons then. Won't be none o' 'em 'round when you moves up heyeh. Bye." And Jed left them at a trot. "I am going to investigate our cave.
Don't be afraid. Nothing can harm you. What was it?" urged Grace. "De de debbil him him speak him heyeh. Him speak to Wash right outer de air," gasped the boy. "There! I knew something terrible would happen from your awful work on that harmonica," declared Emma Dean. "I'm not at all surprised, Wash." Grace shook her head at Emma. "You imagined all of that, Wash," she said.
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