"What's the matter with you, anyhow?" asked Red, with deep anxiety.

"Yes; for God's sake, what's happened to you?" demanded Hopalong.

Johnny breathed deeply and threw back his shoulders as if to shake off
a weight. "Fellers, I had a cougar soft-footing after me in that
dark canyon, my cayuse ran away on a two-foot ledge up the
wall,_--an'--I--saw--a--ghost_!"

There was a respectful silence. Johnny, waiting a reasonable length of
time for replies and exclamations, flushed a bit and repeated his
frank and candid statement, adding a few adjectives to it. "_A real,
screeching, flying ghost_! An' I'm going _home_, an' I'm going to _stay_
there. I ain't never coming back no more, not for anything. Damn this
border country, _anyhow_!"

The silence continued, whereupon Johnny grew properly indignant. "You
act like I told you it was going to rain! Why don't you say something?
Didn't you hear what I said, you fools!" he asked pugnaciously. "Are you
in the habit of having a thing like that told you? Why don't you show
some interest, you dod-blasted, thick-skulled wooden-heads?"

Red looked at Hopalong, Hopalong looked at Red, and then they both
looked at Dent, whose eyes were fixed in a stare on Johnny.

"Huh!" snorted Hopalong, warily arising. "Was that all?" he asked,
nodding at Red, who also arose and began to move cautiously toward their
erring friend. "Didn't you see no more'n one ghost? Anybody that can see
one ghost, an' no more, is wrong somewhere. Now, stop, an' think; didn't