he words were a little mixed up.
There was _snow_ and _ice_ and _storm_ and at last the word _dead_. When
we asked if Peter had died in a snowstorm the Board said yes. So, we
knew the prophecy was fulfilled at last. The news you brought us was
corroboration, not a surprise."

Shelby restrained himself by an effort. His sharp glance at Blair made
him keep quiet also. Neither was at all impressed at the story Crane
told them, except to be moved to ridicule. Well they knew how a Ouija
Board will make glib statements as startling as they are untrue.

But this one happened to be true. Even so, the fact of its relation by
such means was unbelievable to both the hearers.

Yet, they could not disturb the faith of the parents of their lost chum.

"I am glad, for your sakes, that you had a premonitory warning," said
Shelby, in all sincerity. "Such things are indeed beyond our ken. Did
you get any further details?"

"No," said Crane; "but, I learn, you have no further details yourselves.
My boy perished in the snowstorm, alone and helpless. What more is there
to know?"

"Nothing that we could tell," spoke up Blair, a little excitedly, "but
surely, the spirit of Peter,--if it was he speaking to you,--could have
told more!"

"It is clear you have had no experience in these matters," Crane said,
mildly; "the messages are not easy to get, nor are they concise and
clear, like a telegram. Only occasionally does one get through, and then
if it is informative we are duly grateful,--and not dissatisfied and
clamoring for more."

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Crane; I am inexperienced, but I assure you I am
not a scoffer. And of course, I believe your statements."

"Of course!" exclaimed Mrs. Crane, a little crisply. "Surely we would
not invent such a story!"

"No, indeed," said Shelby. "It is strange, you must admit. Have you had
any further communications from Peter?"

"A few," Mr. Crane spoke a bit reluctantly, for he could see that the
men were receptive from a motive of politeness, and not with sympathetic
interest. "He has sent other messages, but they would not, I fear,
convince you."

"Now, don't blame us, Mr. Crane," Blair broke out, impetuously;
"remember, we're just from the place where we left Peter,--remember, we
love him, too,--and remember, if we could be convinced that he had
spoken we would be as interested as you are."

"Well put, my boy," and Crane seemed greatly mollified. "Now, merely as
an admission of facts