he and Eph had gone fishing together.

"If ye want to ketch the big uns, always go at night in the dark o' the
moon," said Eph, and his piscatorial knowledge was absolute.

They had fished in silence for some time, and Johnnie was nodding, when
Eph suddenly whispered:

"Let's go home, sonny, I think I see a ha'nt down yander."

Johnnie had no idea what a "ha'nt" might be, but Eph's constrained
manner betokened something dreadful.

It was not until they had come within sight of home that Johnnie
ventured to inquire:

"Say, Eph, what is a ha'nt?"

"Huh! What is ha'nts? Why, sonny, you mean to tell me you don't know
what ha'nts is?"

"Not exactly; sompin' like wildcats, ain't they?"

"Well, I'll be confounded! Wildcats! Not by a long shot;" and Eph broke
into the soft chuckle which always preceded his explanations. They
reached the orchard fence, and, seating himself squarely on the topmost
rail, Eph began impressively:

"Ha'nts is the remains of dead folks--more 'specially them that's been
assinated, er, that is, kilt--understan'? They're kind o' like sperrits,