eorge, who shivering
with terror was standing on its edge.

"It's a blessed ghost, that's what it is, Colonel," answered George,
keeping his eyes fixed upon the hole as though he momentarily expected
to see the object of his fears emerge.

"Nonsense," said Harold doubtfully. "What rubbish you talk. What sort
of a ghost?"

"A white un," said George, "all bones like."

"All bones?" answered the Colonel, "why it must be a skeleton."

"I don't say that he ain't," was the answer, "but if he be, he's nigh
on seven foot high, and sitting airing of hissel in a stone bath."

"Oh, rubbish," said the Colonel. "How can a skeleton sit and air
himself? He would tumble to bits."

"I don't know, but there he be, and they don't call this here place
'Dead Man's Mount' for nawthing."

"Well," said the Colonel argumentatively, "a skeleton is a perfectly
harmless thing."

"Yes, if he's dead maybe, sir, but this one's alive, I saw him nod his
head at me."

"Look here, George," answered Harold, feeling that if this went on
much longer he should lose his nerve altogether. "I'm not going to be
scared. Great heavens, what a gust! I'm going down to see for myself."

"Very good, Colonel," answered George, "and I'll wait here till you
come up again--that is if you iver du."

Thrice did Harold look at the hole in the masonry and thrice did he
shrink back.

"Come," he shouted angrily, "don't be a fool; get down here and hand
me the lantern."

George obeyed with evident trepidation. Then Harold scrambled through
the opening and with many an inward tremor, for there is scarcely a
man on the earth who is really free from supernatural fears, descended
hand over hand. But in so doing he managed to let the lantern fall and
it went out. Now as any one will admit this was exceedingly trying. It
is not pleasant to be left alone in the dark and underground in the
company of an unknown "spook." He had some matches, but what between
fear and cold it was some time before he could get a light. Down in
this deep place the rush of the great gale reached his ears like a
faint and melancholy sighing, and he heard other tapping noises, too,
or he thought he did, noises of a creepy and unpleasant nature. Would
the matches never light? The chill and death-like damp of the place
struck to his marrow and the cold sweat poured from his brow. Ah! at
last! He kept his eyes steadily fixed upon the lantern till he had lit
it and the flame was burning brightly