f a jug. Peets an' Enright is Injunin' about on the prowl for the
ghost. They don't much reckon it'll be abroad, as mebby the plaza has
beef enough.

"'However, by to-morry night,' says Enright in a whisper, 'or at the
worst, by the night after, we're shore to meet up with this marauder.'

"'Hesh!' whispers Peets, at the same time stoppin' Enright with his
hand, 'he's out to-night!'

"An' thar for shore is something like a dim bloo light movin' across
the plains. Now an' then, two brighter lights shows in spots like the
blazes of candles; them's the fire eyes the locoed cowboys tells of.
Whatever it is, whether spook or Greaser, it's quarterin' the ground
like one of these huntin' dogs. Its gait is a slow canter.

"'He's on the scout,' says Enright,' 'tryin' to start a steer or two in
the dark; but he ain't located none yet.'

"Enright an' Peets slides to the ground an' hobbles their broncos.
They don't aim to have 'em go swarmin' over no bluffs in any blindness
of a first surprise. When the ponies is safe, they bends low an'
begins makin' up towards the ground on which this bloo-shimmerin'
shadow is ha'ntin' about. Things comes their way; they has luck.
They've done crope about forty rods when the ghost heads for 'em. They
can easy tell he's comin', for the fire eyes shows all the time an' not
by fits an' starts as former. As the bloo shimmer draws nearer they
makes out the vague shadows of a man on a hoss. Son, she's shore
plenty ghostly as a vision, an' Enright allows later, it's no marvel
the punchers vamoses sech scenes.

"'How about it,' whispers Peets; 'shall I do the shootin'?'

"'Which your eyes is younger,' says Enright. 'You cut loose; an' I'll
stand by to back the play. Only aim plenty low. You can't he'p
over-shootin' in the dark. Hold as low as his stirrup.'

"Peets pulls himse'f up straight as a saplin' an' runs his left hand
along the bar'l as far as his arm'll reach. An' he hangs long on the
aim as shootin' in the dark ain't no cinch. If this ghost is a bright
ghost it would be easy. But he ain't; he's bloo an' dim like washed
out moonlight, or when it's jest gettin' to be dawn. Enright's twenty
yards to one side so as to free himse'f of Peet's smoke in case he has
to make a second shot.

"But Peets calls the turn. With the crack of that Sharp's of his, the
ghost sets up sech a screech it proves he ain't white an' also that
he'll live through the evenin's events. As the spec