o skeered. Give
me your hand, said Ghost, for I didn't see nothin' but a kinder dark
shadow. Give me your hand. I think it must ha' been the squaw, for it
begged for all the world, jist like an Indgian. I'd see you hanged fust,
said I; I wouldn't touch that are dead tacky hand o' yourn' for half a
million o' hard dollars, cash down without any ragged eends; and with
that, I turned to run out, but Lord love you I couldn't run. The stones
was all wet and slimy, and onnateral slippy, and I expected every
minute, I should heels up and go for it: atween them two critters the
Ghost and the juicy ledge, I felt awful skeered I tell _you_. So I
begins to say my catechism; what's your name, sais I? Rufus Dodge. Who
gave you that name? Godfather and godmother granny Eells. What did
they promise for you? That I should renounce the devil and all his
works--works--works--I couldn't get no farther, I stuck fast there, for
I had forgot it.

"'The moment I stopt, ghost kinder jumped forward, and seized me by my
mustn't-mention'ems, and most pulled the seat out. Oh dear! my heart
most went out along with it, for I thought my time had come. You black
she-sinner of a heathen Indgian! sais I; let me go this blessed minite,
for I renounce the devil and all his works, the devil and all his
works--so there now; and I let go a kick behind, the wickedest you ever
see, and took it right in the bread basket. Oh, it yelled and howled
and screached like a wounded hyaena, till my ears fairly cracked agin.
I renounce you, Satan, sais I; I renounce you, and the world, and the
flesh and the devil. And now, sais I, a jumpin' on terry firm once more,
and turnin' round and facin' the enemy, I'll promise a little dust more
for myself, and that is to renounce Niagara, and Indgian squaws, and
dead Britishers, and the whole seed, breed and generation of 'em from
this time forth, for evermore. Amen.

"'Oh blazes! how cold my face is yet. Waiter, half a pint of clear
cocktail; somethin' to warm me. Oh, that cold hand! Did you ever touch a
dead man's hand? it's awful cold, you may depend. Is there any marks on
my face? do you see the tracks of the fingers there?'

"'No, Sir,' sais I,' I can't say I do.'

"'Well, then I feel them there,' sais he, 'as plain as any thing.'

"'Stranger,' sais I, 'it was nothin' but some poor no-souled critter,
like yourself, that was skeered a'most to death, and wanted to be helped
out that's all."

"'Skeered!' said he, 'sarve