ured a lantern, and passed out and down
the long platform. From end to end it was deserted and silent.

He returned to the office. Scarcely had he closed the door when again
came the sound of footsteps.

Jack paused and listened. They were light and quick, like those of a
woman--up and down, up and down, now pausing a moment, now briskly
resuming, as though the walker was anxiously waiting for someone.

On tiptoe Jack went back to the door, suddenly flung it open and flashed
the lantern. As quickly the steps had ceased. Not a moving object was to
be seen.

Immensely puzzled, Jack withdrew, and stepped to the instrument table. As
he reached toward the telegraph key from almost directly overhead broke
out a thundering rumble, as of a heavy wooden ball bounding down the
roof.

Catching up the lantern, he once more rushed forth. Immediately, as
before, all was silence. Nervous at last, in spite of himself, Jack
hesitated, then resolutely set forth on a complete round of the station
and freight shed, throwing the lantern light upon the roof, through the
dusty windows, and into every nook and corner. Nowhere was there a sign
of life.

He returned. The moment he closed the office door the rumble broke out
afresh.

Jack sprang to the instruments, called Exeter, and sent rapidly, "Al,
that 'ghost' is here, and in spite of me, is beginning to get on my--"

The line opened, then sharply clicked: "Look behind! Look behind!"

With a cry Jack was on his feet, and had started for the door. Half way
he pulled up, with a determined effort controlled his panic, and returned
to the key. "I suppose you didn't hear that, Al?" he asked.

"Not a letter."

"Well, good gracious, what--_Oh!_"

A cold chill shot up Jack's back. The cause was a low, long-drawn moan,
apparently from just the other side of the wooden partition, in the
freight room. Again it came, then suddenly ceased to give place to a low,
tense whispering immediately behind him. Jack sprang about, and leaped to
his feet. Within touch of him was a large knot-hole.

And was there not an eye at it? Peering at him?

He sprang toward it.

No! Nothing! The whispering, too, had ceased.

Thoroughly shaken, Jack again turned for his hat--and again faltered
between the chair and the door.

"You there, Jack?" clicked Alex. "Hang on, old boy. Keep your nerve."

Clenching his teeth and gripping his hands Jack regained control of
himself, and returned to the instruments.