he
girls, explaining as they went what they intended to do.

"We'll be all right," said Betty at once. "I think if Libbie can sit down
and rest she'll feel better, too. And if you all want to go and hunt for
the trail, you needn't worry about us."

"Oh, Sydney and I intend to stay," Gilbert Lane assured her quickly. (The
boys had settled that among themselves.) "We'll be handy in case any
Indians or the like come after you."

Betty gave him a warning glance, for Libbie looked frightened. Surely
something was wrong with the girl!

The cabin door was open and the interior was comparatively dry. There was
no furniture, but three or four old packing boxes furnished the girls
with seats. Bob and five of his friends disappeared, whistling. Gilbert
and Sydney were investigating the ramshackle fireplace to see what the
prospects were for starting a fire when a shriek from Libbie brought them
to their feet.

"A ghost!" cried the girl. "A ghost! Over there in the corner!"

Frances Martin gave a cry, and Betty and Bobby went white. Even Gilbert
afterward confessed that his scalp prickled when a figure stepped forward
from a narrow closet against the wall.

"Ugh! Howdy!" he grunted, and they saw that he was a very old and very
dirty Indian.

"Rain," he said slowly, pointing to the door. "Stop soon now. Go
get supper."

He shuffled over the doorsill and at the edge he turned.

"Howdy!" he said, apparently with some vague idea of farewell.
"Much rain!"

Petrified, they watched him hobble away through the woods.

CHAPTER XVIII

LIBBIE'S SECRET

Gilbert Lane was the first to recover his voice.

"Well, what do you know about that!" he ejaculated. "The old bird was
here all the time."

"Are--are--are there any more of them?" stammered Louise.

"No, that old fellow is the only Indian for miles around," said Gilbert
carelessly. "He was left behind, the fellows at school say, when that
band stole the Macklin treasure. They had a grudge against him, it seems,
and they tripped him and left him with a broken leg. He worked around on
different farms for years and now does a day's work often enough to keep
him in food. Queer old dick, I guess."

"What makes you girls look so funny?" demanded Sydney. "You're not afraid
now, are you? That Indian won't come back--he was more afraid of us than
we were of him. I figure out he was asleep when we came in and the noise
woke him up. What are you smiling about?"

"My gran