il later," Val suggested.

"Ah played haunt!" the confession came out of the swamper in a rush.

"Then you _were_ my faceless ghost?"

Jeems tried to nod and the action printed a frown of pain between his
eyes.

"Why? Didn't you want us to live there?" asked Ricky gently.

"Ah was huntin'--"

"What for?"

The frown became one of puzzlement. "Ah don't know--" His voice trailed
off into a thin whisper as his eyes closed wearily. Val signaled Ricky
to keep quiet.

"Ahoy there!" Along the bank toward them came Rupert and after him Sam.
Beyond them lay the Ralestone landing. Val headed inshore.

"Just what does this mean--Val! Has there been an accident?" The
irritation in Rupert's voice became hot concern.

"An intended one," his brother replied. "We've got the real victim here
with us."

They tied up to the landing and Sam came down to hand out Jeems who
apparently had lapsed into unconsciousness again.

"You'd better call a doctor," Val told Rupert. "Jeems has a head wound."

But Rupert had already taken charge of affairs with an efficiency which
left Val humbly grateful. The boy didn't even move to leave the boat. It
was better just to sit and watch other people scurry about. Sam had
started for the house, carrying Jeems as if the long-legged swamper was
the same age and size as his own small son. Ricky dashed on ahead to
warn Lucy. Rupert had Sam Two by the collar and was giving him
instructions for catching Dr. LeFrode, who was probably making his
morning rounds and might be found at the sugar-mill where one of the
feeders had injured his hand. Sam Two's sister had seen the doctor on
his way there a scant ten minutes earlier.

Val watched all this activity dreamily. Everything would be all right
now that Rupert was in charge. He could relax--

"Now," his brother turned upon Val, "just what did--What's the matter
with you?"

"Tired, I guess," Val said ruefully. But Rupert was already in the boat,
getting the younger boy to his unsteady feet.

"Can you make it to the house?" he asked anxiously.

"Sure. Just give me an arm till I get on the landing."

But when Val had crawled up on the levee he did not feel at all like
walking to the house. Then Rupert's arm was about his thin shoulders and
he thought that he could make it if he really tried.

The garden path seemed miles long, and it was not until Val had the soft
cushions of the hall couch under him that he felt able to tell his
story. But at t