with increasing wonder and thrilling interest, "do you
really and truly mean that, or are you only joshing?"

"Well," the narrator went on to say soberly, "two fellows told me
they'd heard that same shriek. One was hunting a stray heifer when
he found himself near the quarry, and then got a shock that sent him
on the run all the way home, regardless of trees he banged into, for
it was night-time, with only a quarter-moon up in the western sky.
The other had laughed at all such silly stories, and to prove his
bravery concluded to venture out there one night when the moon was as
round as a cartwheel. He got close to the deserted workings when he
too had a chill as he heard the most outlandish cry agoing, three
times repeated, and----well, he grinned when he confessed that it
took him just about one-fifth the time to get back home that he'd
spent in the going."

"Whee! perhaps there may be some sort of wild animal in one of the
caves they tell about up there?" ventured Horatio. "I'm not a
believer in ghosts, and I don't consider myself a coward, either; but
all the same it'd have to be something pretty big to induce me to
walk out there to that same lonely quarry after nightfall. Now laugh
if you want to, K. K."

"Well," interrupted Hugh, just then, "we're approaching the place
right now where that old quarry road I spoke of starts in. I'd like
ever so much to take a look at that same quarry, by daylight, mind
you. Is there any objection, fellows, to our testing out that road
right now? It used to be a pretty fair proposition I've been told,
so far as a road goes, and I think we could navigate the same in this
car. K. K. how do you stand on that proposition, for one?"

"Count me in on anything that promises an adventure, Hugh," came the
prompt reply. "There is plenty of gas in the tank, and if we do get
a puncture on the sharp stones we've got an extra tube along, with
lots and lots of muscle lying around loose for changing the same.
That's my answer, Hugh."

"Thad, how about you?" continued the shrewd Hugh, well knowing that
by making an individual appeal he would be more apt to receive a
favorable response, because it goes against the average boy's pride
to be accounted a weakling, or one addicted to believing old wives'
fairy stories of goblins, and all such trash.

"Oh, count me in, Hugh," responded the other, with an indifference
that may possibly have been partly assumed; but then Thad Stevens was
a