across the water from the opposite bank, directly to the
gravel bed below, where lay the bathing pool. It made
a path of gold that wavered and shimmered as the water
moved gently, but it appeared sufficiently material to
resemble a bridge spanning the lake.

``Seems as if I could walk it,'' muttered the Harvester.

The owl cried again and the man intently watched the
opposite bank. He could not see the bird, but in the
deep wood where he thought it might be he began to
discern a misty, moving shimmer of white. Marvelling,
he watched closer. So slowly he could not detect motion
it advanced, rising in height and taking shape.

``Do I end this day by seeing a ghost?'' he queried.

He gazed intently and saw that a white figure really
moved in the woods of the opposite bank.

``Must be some boys playing fool pranks!'' exclaimed
the Harvester.

He watched fixedly with interested face, and then
amazement wiped out all other expression and he sat
motionless, breathless, looking, intently looking. For
the white object came straight toward the water and at
the very edge unhesitatingly stepped upon the bridge of
gold and lightly, easily advanced in his direction. The man
waited. On came the figure and as it drew closer he could