comers.

"What are you talking about? What do you mean by 'the ghost?'" asked Mr.
Breed, in great wonderment.

"The ghost, I say--did neither of you see a horrible figure pass out of
sight suddenly, toward the creek yonder?"

"I saw nothing, Mr. Drysdale," said O'Fallon; "did you, Breed?"

"Well, I don't know what Mr. Drysdale means by a ghost," said Breed,
deliberately; "but I think I did see something down there. I couldn't
say what it looked like. Why do you call it a ghost, Mr. Drysdale?"

"Because I have seen it twice close to me, and Mr. Andrews has not been
able to see it at all," replied Drysdale with great difficulty. "I began
to think it must have been imagination on my part, but now, that you
have seen it, I know that it was a ghost."

Drysdale was so helpless, that it was necessary for one gentleman to
ride on each side of him to hold him in his saddle. On arriving at his
place, they helped him into the house, and left him in charge of his
wife. He immediately went to bed, and during the night, he suffered a
great deal. Mrs. Potter heard him groaning, tossing, and muttering until
nearly daylight.

The story of the ghost was soon freely circulated by O'Fallon and
Breed, though they could not describe the apparition at all. Still, it
created quite an excitement, and the results were not very beneficial to
the neighborhood, for the reason that no negro could be induced to pass
along that part of the road after dark; indeed, there were a great many
educated white people who would not ride past the spot alone on a dark
night.

Drysdale was confined to his room for several days, during which time he
received no visitors except Andrews. It was curious to observe what a
strong preference he showed for his new-found friend.

Just at this time I decided to re-visit Atkinson myself, and on my
arrival there I had a long interview with Messrs. Ballantine, McGregor,
and Gordon. I explained to them all the steps I had taken, and they
learned to their great astonishment that Mr. Andrews, Mrs. Potter, and
Mr. Green were my detectives. The ghost was Green, whose resemblance to
young Gordon was a great aid in carrying out the scheme. Mrs. Potter had
voluntarily fallen from her horse in order to get herself carried into
Drysdale's house, and it was she who sprinkled the blood over Drysdale's
clothing and down the walk. After settling all our plans, I returned to
the hotel, where I was easily able to obtain a private