It was K.K. who laughed first, actually laughed scornfully, though
Julius took it all so seriously. Thad Stevens followed with a chuckle,
after his peculiar fashion.

"You give me a pain, Julius, you certainly do," ventured K.K.

"To think," added Thad, assuming a lofty air of superior knowledge,
"of a fellow attending Scranton High believing the ridiculous yarns
these uneducated tillers of the soil and their hired help pass around,
about there being some sort of a genuine _ghost_ haunting the old
quarry---why, it's positively silly of you, Julius, and I don't mind
telling you so to your face."

"Oh, hold on there, fellows!" expostulated the other boy; "I didn't
say that I really and truly believed any of those awful stories, did I?
But so many different persons have told me the same thing that, somehow,
I came to think there _might_ be some fire where there was so much
smoke. Of course, it can't be a ghost, but, nevertheless, there are
queer goings-on about that deserted quarry these nights---three
different people, and one of them a steady-going woman in the
bargain, assured me they had glimpsed moving lights there, a sort of
flare that did all sorts of zigzag stunts, like it was cutting signals
in the air."

"Hugh, do you think that could be what they call wild-fire, or some
folks give it the name of will-o'-the-wisp, others say jack-o'-lantern?"
demanded Horatio Juggins, who had been listening intently while all
this talk was going on.