"When I'm a bit huskier, yes."

The old man removed his cigar in order to obtain the full effect
of a triumphant grin.

"Well, in the first place, you can't get up to it. You've got to
come down to it. The only way to get to the mouth of that cave is
to lower yourself from the top of the rock. And in the second place,
you can't get DOWN to it because it ain't allowed. The owner of all
the land along that side of the river has got 'no trespass' signs
up, and NOBODY'S allowed to climb to the top of that rock. She's
all-fired particular about it, too. The top of that rock is sacred
to her. Nobody ever thinks of violatin' it. All around the bottom
of the slope back of the hill she's got a white picket fence, and
the gate to it is padlocked. You see it's her family buryin'-ground."

"Her what?"

"Buryin'-ground. Her father and mother are buried right smack on
top of that rock."

The young man lifted his eyebrows. "Does that mean there are a
couple of married ghosts fighting on top of the rock every night,
besides the gang down in the--"

"It ain't a joking matter," broke in the other sharply.

"Go on, tell me more. The monstrosity gets more and more interesting
every minute."