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"Oh, that's a fine place for honest scouts to pitch their tents, ain't it I don't think!" observed Joe Clausin, with a sneer. "H-h-huh! ain't there j-j-just twenty-six of us s-s-scouts; and ought we b-b-be afraid of one l-l-little g-g-ghost, or even a w-w-wild man?" demanded Bluff Shipley, who stuttered once in a while, when unduly excited, though he was by degrees overcoming the nervous habit.
Suddenly, startling him so that his taut muscles jumped involuntarily, came an excited shout from Nigger Ben. "Ha'nts, Cap'n Barlow! Oh, my Gawd, save me now! Looky dar! Looky dar! It's a lady g-g-ghost! Oh, my Gawd, save me now!" Kendric ran back. Nigger Ben was clutching wildly at Barlow's arm. "You superstitious old fool," growled Barlow.
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