ey even searched the ombu-tree, but
all in vain.

'Our eyes must have deceived us,' said Dugald.

'I think,' said Archie, 'I have a theory that might explain the mystery.'

'What is it, then?'

'Well, that was no living figure we saw.'

'What! You don't mean to say, Archie, it was a ghost?'

'No, but a branch of that ghostly ombu-tree moved by a passing wind
between us and the light.'

As he spoke they rounded the farthest off gable of the ruin, and there
both stopped as suddenly as if shot. Close beside the wall, with some rude
digging tools lying near, was a newly-opened grave!

'This is indeed strange,' said Dugald, remembering old Jenny's warning and
dream; 'I cannot make it out.'

'Nor can I. However, we must make the best of it.'

By the time supper was finished they had almost forgotten all about it.
Only before lying down that night--

'I say, Archie,' said Dugald, 'why didn't we think of it?'

'Think of what?'

'Why, of putting Wolf the mastiff on the track. If there have been Indians
here he would have found them out.'

'It will not be too late to-morrow, perhaps.'

Dugald lay awake till it must have been long past midnight. He tried to
sleep, but failed, though he could tell from his regular breathing that
nothing was disturbing Archie's repose. It was a beautiful night outside,
and the light from a full moon streamed in at one window and fell on the
form of good Wolf, who was curled up on the floor; the other window was
shaded by the branches of the ombu-tree. No matter how calm it might be in
the valley below, away up here there was always a light breeze blowing,
and to-night the whispering in the tree at times resembled the sound of
human voices. So thought Dugald. Several times he started and listened,
and once he felt almost sure he heard footsteps as of people moving
outside. Then again all sounds--if sounds there had been--ceased, and
nothing was audible save the sighing wind in the ombu-tree. Oh, that
strange waving ombu-tree! He wondered if it really had some dark secret to
whisper to him, and had chosen this silent hour of night to reveal it.

Hark, that was a sound this time! The mournful but piercing cry of a
night-bird. 'Chee-hee-ee! chee-hee-ee!' It was repeated farther up the
hill. But could the dog be deceived? Scarcely; and growling low as if in
anger, Wolf had arisen and stood pointing towards the ombu-shaded window.

With one accord both Dugald and Archie, seizing their