"'Tis so--still--and dark out there," said Jamie, pointing toward the
darkness beyond the fire-glow. "And--I were thinkin' I heard
something."

"But there _is_ ghosts, sir, plenty of un," broke in Andy. "Pop's seen
ghosts and so has Zeke Hodge and Uncle Billy and plenty of folks. They
says the ghost of Long John, the old Injun that used to be at the Post
and was drowned, goes paddlin' and paddlin' about in a canoe o'
nights."

"Yes," said David, "I'm thinkin' I saw Long John's ghost myself one
evenin'. I weren't certain of un, but it must have been he."

"Nonsense!" Doctor Joe had no patience with the belief popular among
Labradormen that ghosts of men who have been drowned or killed return
to haunt the scene of their death. "There's no such thing as a ghost."

"What's that now?" Jamie held up his hand for silence, and spoke in a
subdued voice.

Out of the darkness came the rhythmic dipping of a paddle. They all
heard it now. Doctor Joe arose, and closely followed by the boys,
stepped down beyond the fire glow. In dim outline they could see the
silhouette of a canoe containing the lone figure of a man paddling
with the short, quick stroke of the Indian.

"'Tis the ghost of Long John!" breathed Jamie. "'Tis sure he!"