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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..19581a9 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #67822 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/67822) diff --git a/old/67822-0.txt b/old/67822-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 48240dc..0000000 --- a/old/67822-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1190 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Ghost of One Man Coulee, by B. M. Bower - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The Ghost of One Man Coulee - -Author: B. M. Bower - -Release Date: April 12, 2022 [eBook #67822] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Roger Frank and Sue Clark. - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GHOST OF ONE MAN COULEE *** - - - - - -The Ghost of One Man Coulee - -By B. M. Bower - -Author of “The Happy Family Stories,” “Lonesome Land,” Etc. - -[Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the January 1, 1913 -issue of The Popular Magazine.] - - - The reappearance of Olafson, the violinist, who had gone - out in the blizzard and was lost seeking the north wind - that he might learn the song it sang, and who, according - to Happy Jack, returned to earth on moonlight nights to - play his violin in the doorway of the deserted shack in - One Man Coulee. - - -Happy Jack, by some freak of misguided ambition, was emulating -rather heavily the elfish imagination of Andy Green. He was--to put -it baldly and colloquially--throwing a big load into the Native Son -who jingled his gorgeous silver spurs close alongside Happy’s more -soberly accoutered heel. - -“That there,” Happy was saying, with ponderous gravity, “is the -shack where the old fiddler went crazy trying to play a tune like -the wind--or some blamed fool thing like that--and killed himself -because he couldn’t make it stick. It’s haunted, that shack is. The -old fellow’s ghost comes around there moonlight nights and plays the -fiddle in the door.” - -The Native Son, more properly christened Miguel, turned a languidly -velvet glance toward the cabin and flicked the ashes from his -cigarette daintily. “Have you ever seen the ghost, Happy?” he asked -indulgently. - -“Ah--yes, sure! I seen it m’self,” Happy lied boldly. - -“And were you scared?” - -“Me? Scared? Hunh!” Happy gave a fairly good imitation of dumb -disgust. “Why, I went and--” - -Happy’s imagination floundered in the stagnant pool of a -slow-thinking brain. - -“I went right in and--” - -“Exactly.” Miguel smiled a smile of even, white teeth and ironical -lips. “Some moonlight night we will come back here at midnight, you -and I. I have heard of that man, and I am fond of music. We will -come and listen to him.” - -Some of the other boys, ambling up from behind, caught a part of the -speech, and looked at one another, grinning. - -“The Native Son’s broke out all over with schoolbook grammar ag’in,” -Big Medicine remarked. “Wonder what Happy’s done? I’ve noticed, by -cripes, that the guilty party better duck, when that there Miguel -begins to talk like a schoolma’am huntin’ a job! Hey, there!” he -bellowed suddenly, so that one might hear him half a mile away. -“What’s this here music talk I hear? Who’s goin’ to play, and where -at, and how much is it a head?” - -Miguel turned and looked back at the group, smiling still. “Happy -was telling me about a ghost in that cabin down there.” He flung out -a hand toward the place so suddenly that his horse jumped in fear of -the quirt. “I say we’ll come back some night and listen to the -ghost. Happy says he frequently rides over to hear it play on -moonlight nights, and--” - -“Aw, g’wan!” Happy Jack began to look uncomfortable in his mind. “I -said--” - -“Happy? If he thought there was a ghost in One Man Coulee, you -couldn’t tie him down and haul him past in a hayrack at noon,” Andy -asserted sharply. “There isn’t any ghost.” - -Andy set his lips firmly together, and stared reminiscently down the -hill at the lonely little cabin in the coulee. Memory, the original -moving-picture machine, which can never be equaled by any man-made -contrivance, flashed upon him vividly a picture of the night when he -had sat within that cabin, listening to the man who would play the -north wind, and who wept because it eluded him always; who played -wonderfully--a genius gone mad under the spell of his own music--and -at last rushed out into the blizzard and was lost, seeking the north -wind that he might learn the song it sang. The scene gripped Andy, -even in memory. He wondered fancifully if Olafson was still -wandering with his violin, searching for the home of the north wind. -They had never found him, not even when the snows had gone and the -land lay bare beneath a spring sky. He must have frozen, for the -night had been bitter, and a blizzard raged blindingly. Still, they -had never found a trace of him. - -There had been those who, after searching a while in vain, had -accused Andy to his face of building the story to excite his -fellows. He had been known to deceive his friends heartlessly, and -there had been some argument over the real fate of the vanished -Olafson. If Andy had told the truth, asked the doubters, where was -Olafson’s body? And who had ever tried to play the wind? Who, save -Andy Green, would ever think of such a fantastic tale? Happy Jack, -Andy remembered resentfully, had been unusually vociferous in his -unbelief, even for him. - -“Aw, you stuck to it there was all the makin’s of a ghost,” Happy -defended awkwardly, and wished that Andy Green had not overheard the -yarn he told Miguel. “Sure, there’s a ghost!” He fell back a step -that he might wink at Big Medicine, and so enlist his sledge-hammer -assistance. “I leave it to Bud if we didn’t hear it, one night---” - -“And seen it, too, by cripes!” Big Medicine enlarged readily and -shamelessly. “Standin’ right in the door, playin’ the fiddle to beat -a straight flush.” He glared around the little group with his -protruding eyes until his glance met the curious look of Cal Emmett. -“You was with us, Cal,” he asserted boldly. “I leave it to you if we -didn’t see ’im and hear ’im.” - -Cal, thus besought to bear false witness, did so with amiable -alacrity. “We sure did,” he declared. - -“Funny you never said a word about it before,” snapped Andy, with -open disbelief in his tone. - -“We thought nobody’d believe us if we did tell it,” Big Medicine -explained. - -“Pity yuh don’t always think as close to the mark as yuh done then,” -Andy retorted. - -“How do yuh know there ain’t a ghost?” Big Medicine demanded with -some slight rancor, born not of the argument, but of temporary ill -feeling between the two. “Is it because yuh know, by cripes, that -yuh lied last winter?” - -Andy’s lips tightened. “I’ve heard about enough of that,” he said, -with a flash of anger. With the cabin in sight, and recalling the -tragedy of that night, he was not in the mood to wrangle -good-naturedly about it with any one--least of all with Big -Medicine. “I didn’t lie. I’m dead willing to back what I said about -it with my fists, if--” - -Big Medicine twitched the reins to ride close, but Miguel’s horse -sidled suddenly and blocked the move. Also, Miguel smiled -guilelessly into the angry eyes of Big Medicine. - -“Will you fellows come back with me to-night, then, and see the -ghost?” he asked lightly. “Or don’t you dare tackle it again?” - -Big Medicine snorted and forgot his immediate intentions toward -Andy, just as Miguel, perhaps, intended that he should do. - -“You wouldn’t dast come along, if we did,” he glowered. “I’d camp -there alone for a month, far as I’m concerned, if there was any -grub, by cripes!” - -“That shows how much you know about the place,” put in Pink, siding -with Andy. “Unless somebody’s packed it away lately, there’s all -kinds of grub left. Maybe the flour, and bacon, and beans is gone, -but there’s enough pickles and stuffed olives to last--” - -“Olives!” cried the Native Son, and looked back longingly at the -rugged bluff which marked One Man Coulee. “Say, does anybody belong -to them olives?” - -“Nobody but the ghost,” grinned Pink. “We bought him twelve lovely -tall bottles, just to please Jimmie; he told us there wasn’t any -sale for stuffed olives in Dry Lake, and he offered ’em to us at -cost. We did think uh taking all he had, but we cut it down to -twelve bottles afterward. And Olafson never ate a darned olive all -the time he was there!” - -“And they’re there yet, you say?” It was plain that Miguel was far -more interested in the olives than he was in the ghost. - -“Sure, they’re there.” Pink was not troubling to warp the truth, as -Miguel decided, after a sharp glance. “The stuff all belonged to -Olafson, and the shack belongs to the Old Man. And when Olafson went -crazy over the wind, and froze to death,” he stipulated distinctly, -with a challenging glance at Big Medicine, “we all kept thinking at -first he’d come back, maybe. But he never did--” - -“Exceptin’ his ghost, by golly!” put in Slim unexpectedly, with a -belated snort of amusement at the idea. - -“I’d rather,” sighed Miguel, “have a dozen bottles of stuffed olives -than a dozen kisses from the prettiest girl in the State.” - -“Mamma! they’re easier to get, anyway. If you want ’em that bad--” - -“That there ghost may have something to say about them olives,” -Happy Jack warned, sticking stubbornly to his story. - -Miguel smiled--and there was that in his smile which sent four -mendacious cow-punchers hot with resentment. - -“Maybe yuh don’t believe in that ghost, by cripes?” Big Medicine -challenged indignantly, and gave Miguel a pale, pop-eyed stare meant -to be intimidating. - -Miguel smiled again as at some secret joke, and made no reply at -all. - -“Well--don’t yuh b’lieve it?” Big Medicine roared after a minute. - -Miguel smiled gently and inspected his cigarette; emotions might -surge about this Native Son and beat themselves to a white froth -upon the rock of his absolute, inimitable imperturbability, as the -Happy Family knew well. Now they rode close-grouped, intensely -interested in this struggle between bull-bellowing violence and -languid impassivity. - -“You don’t believe it yourself, do you?” Miguel inquired evenly at -last, rousing himself from his abstraction. “Did you expect me to -swallow hook, sinker, and all?” - -Big Medicine looked positively murderous. “When I say a thing is -so,” he cried, “I expect, by cripes, that folks will take m’ bare -word for it. I don’t have to produce no affidavies, nor haul in any -witnesses. I ain’t like Andy, here. You’re dealin’ now with a man -that can look truth in the face and never bat an eye.” - -Miguel smiled again, this time more humanly amused. “I’ve met men -before who hadn’t a speaking acquaintance with Dame Truth,” he -drawled. “They looked her in the face, too--and she never recognized -’em.” - -Big Medicine was at that critical point where make-believe may -easily become reality. He had been “joshing” and playing he was mad -before; now his glare hardened perceptibly, so that more than one of -the boys noticed the difference. - -“Aw, if he don’t want to believe it he don’t have to,” Happy Jack -intercepted Big Medicine’s belligerent speech. “Chances is them -olives’ll stay where they’re at a good long while, though--if -Mig-u-ell has to get ’em after dark.” - -Miguel smoked while he rode ten rods. “I offered to come and listen -to the ghost fiddle his fastest,” he observed at last, “and not one -of you fellows took me up on it. To-night I’ll come alone and get -those olives. I guess I can carry twelve bottles all right.” - -“It’s no use to-night,” Cal Emmett objected. “It’s only on moonlight -nights--” He looked a question at Big Medicine. - -“Moonlight it’s got to be. There ain’t a moon till--” - -“I can find stuffed olives any old kind of a night.” Miguel blew the -ashes from his cigarette. “It’s the olives I want, amigo. I don’t -give a whoop for your ghost.” - -“Aw, I betche yuh dassent come when it’s moonlight, just the same,” -cried Happy Jack. “I betche ten dollars yuh dassent.” - -It would be tiresome to repeat all that was said upon the subject -thereafter. So slight a thing as Happy Jack’s wrongful desire to lie -as convincingly as could Andy Green, led the whole Happy Family into -a profitless and more or less acrimonious argument. Each man, -according to his nature, and the mood he happened to be in at the -moment, took up the discussion. And speedily it developed that the -faction against Miguel, Andy Green, and Pink included every man of -them save Weary, who would stand by Pink regardless of the issue. - -It was nearly noon, and they were hungry, and headed toward camp; -but despite their haste they argued the foolish question of whether -the cabin in One Man Coulee was haunted. Six of them maintained -stubbornly that it was--for Irish began to side with Happy Jack just -because he did not like the Native Son very well, and that ironical -smile of Miguel’s irritated him to a degree; and Jack Bates also -espoused the ghost because he scented an opportunity for excitement. -The minority, composed of Miguel, Pink, Andy Green, and Weary, -confined themselves largely to sarcasm--which is the oil which feeds -fastest the flames of dissension. - -It was foolish, to be sure; just as foolish as many other things -which men drift into doing. But they, nevertheless, reached that -point where, as in the case of Big Medicine, make-believe crowded -close upon reality. The four rode together into camp ten paces ahead -of the six, and they talked in low tones among themselves mostly. -When they did deign to look at the six, their glances were -unfriendly, and when they spoke their speech was barbed so that it -stung the listeners. And the six retaliated vigorously--the more so -because they had been silly enough in the first place to declare -their belief in the nonexistent, and had been betrayed into making -many ridiculous assertions which they were too obstinate to -withdraw; so that once again the Happy Family belied the name men -had given it, and became for the time being a bunch of as -disagreeable cow-punchers as one could find in four days’ ride. - -“Aw, say, I sure would like to put it on them fellers good!” Happy -Jack growled to Cal and Jack Bates on the way to the corralled -saddle bunch after dinner. Happy Jack was purple with wrath, for a -caustic sentence or two spoken in Miguel’s most maddening drawl was -yet stinging his ears. “That there Native Son makes me tired! I -wisht there was a ghost--I’d sure--” - -“Oh, there’s a ghost, all right,” Jack Bates stated meaningly; “all -yuh got to do is make one.” - -“Say, by golly!” Slim, close behind them, gulped excitedly. -“Wouldn’t it--” - -“Say, don’t let them faces get to leaking,” Cal advised bluntly. -“It’s a whole week till the moon’s good. Shut up!” - -Slim goggled at him, caught the hazy beginning of an idea, grinned, -and stepped over the rope into the corral. He was grinning when he -caught his horse, and he was still grinning widely while he cinched -the saddle. He caught Andy Green eying him suspiciously, and -snickered outright. But he did not say a word, and, therefore, went -his way, believing that he had given no hint of what was in his -mind. - -Slim and Happy Jack were alike in one respect: Their minds worked -slowly and rather ponderously--and, like other ponderous machinery, -once in motion they were hard to stop. The others would have left -the subject alone, after that hour of hot argument, and in time -would have forgotten it except for an occasional jeer, perhaps; but -not so Happy Jack and Slim. - -The Flying U outfit ate, saddled fresh horses, reloaded the mess -wagon, and moved on toward Dry Creek, and that night flung weary -bodies upon the growing grass in the shade of the tents, twenty -miles and more from One Man Coulee and the little cabin with its -grim history of genius blotted out in madness. Nevertheless, Slim -searched ostentatiously with plate, knife, and fork in his hand, at -supper time, and craned his neck over boxes and cans, until he had -the attention of his fellows, who were hungry, and elbowed him out -of their way with scant courtesy. - -“Say, Mig-u-ell, where’s them stuffed olives?” he called at last. “I -thought, by golly, we was goin’ to have some olives for supper?” - -“Olives--stuffed olives, are best picked by moonlight, they tell -me,” Miguel responded unemotionally, glancing up over his cup. “Have -patience, amigo.” - -Slim nudged Happy Jack so that he spilled half his coffee and swore -because it was hot, caught Big Medicine’s pale-eyed glare upon him, -and subsided so suddenly that he choked over his next sentence, -which had nothing at all to do with olives, or ghosts, or insane -fiddlers. - -Men, it would seem, never quite leave their boyhood behind them; at -least, those men do not who live naturally and individually, -untainted by the poison of the great money marts where human nature -is warped and perverted so that nearly all natural instincts are -subordinated to the lust for gain of one sort and another. In the -Bear Paw country men labor for gain, it is true; but they also live -the lives for which nature has created them. There is that in the -wide reaches of plain and valley, in the clean arch of blue sky and -drifting clouds overhead, which keeps the best of them boyish till -their temples are marked with white--yes, and after. - -It was that tenacious element which started Irish, Cal Emmett, Jack -Bates, and Big Medicine to tilting hat brims together when none -others were near observe them. It was that which sent them off -riding by themselves--to town, they said before they started--early -on the first Sunday after the wagons had pulled in to the ranch, -there to stand until the beef round-up started. - -They returned unobtrusively by mid-afternoon, and they looked very -well satisfied with themselves, and inclined to facetiousness. - -“What’s the matter?” Weary asked them pointedly when they dismounted -at the corral. “Come back after something you forgot?” - -“Yeah--sure,” Cal returned, with a flicker of eyelids. “Nothing -doing in that darned imitation of a town, anyway.” - -“Where’s the mail?” Pink demanded expectantly. - -“We--plumb forgot that there mail, by cripes!” Big Medicine looked -up quickly. “Irish was goin’ to git it, but he didn’t.” - -Pink said nothing, but he studied the four from under the long, -curled lashed which he had found very useful in concealing covert -glances. - -“Sorry, Little One--honest to grandma, I am!” Big Medicine clapped -him patronizingly on the shoulder as he passed him. - -“I don’t know as it matters,” said Pink sweetly. “Some of us were -just about ready to hit the trail. We can get it, I guess. Say! -Ain’t you got that cayuse caught up yet, Mig?” he called out to the -Native Son, who was reclining luxuriously against a new stack of -sweet-smelling bluejoint hay. “Come out of your trance, or we’ll go -off and leave you!” - -“Oh--yuh going to town?” Cal looked over his shoulder with some -uneasiness in his baby-blue eyes. - -“Maybe we are and maybe we ain’t. Maybe we’re going to see our best -girls. What’s it to you?” Pink turned his back on Cal and looked -full at Weary. “Come on--the girls will be plumb wild if we don’t -get a move on,” he said carelessly, and picked up his bridle. -“Where’s Andy? I thought he said he wanted to go along. Hurry up, -Mig, if you’re going.” - -Nobody knew what he was driving at, but the three were mounted well -within ten minutes, and flinging back remarks to the four who had -lately returned. The departing ones were well up on the hogback -before any one of them ventured to question Pink, who rode with the -air of one whose destination is fixed, and whose desire outstrips -his body in the journey. - -“Say, Cadwolloper, where are we headed for?” Weary inquired then -resignedly. “And what’s the rush?” - -Pink glanced down the hill toward the stable and corrals, decided -that they were being observed with something very like suspicion, -and faced to the front again. “We’re going to head for Rogers’,” he -dimpled, “but we ain’t going to get there. Yuh needn’t look down -there--but Irish and Cal are saddling up again. They’re afraid we’re -going to town. They’re going to trail us up and find out for sure.” - -“They sure did act like they’d been holding up a train, when they -rode up,” Weary observed. “I’ve been searching my soul with a -spyglass trying to find the answer for all that guilt on their -faces.” - -“Happy Jack has been mentioning stuffed olives and moonlight pretty -often to-day,” the Native Son remarked with apparent irrelevance. “I -thought he’d pickled that josh, but he’s working things up again. -Two and two make four; that four.” With the slightest of head tilts -he indicated those below, and flashed his even, white teeth in a -smile. “Do you want me to guess where you’re going, Pink?” - -“I wish you fellows would guess how we’re going to ditch them two -pirates, first,” Pink retorted, glancing down again at the stable -without turning his head. “If we strike straight for Rogers’, maybe -they’ll turn back, though. They’ll think we’ve gone over there to -see the girls.” - -“If I knew the country a little better--” began the Native Son, and -stopped with that. - -“If they don’t follow us over the ridge,” spoke up Andy, who had -been thinking deeply, “we can go up Antelope Coulee instead of down, -and follow along in the edge of the breaks to the head of One Man, -and down that; that’s where you’re going, isn’t it? It will be five -or six miles farther.” - -Pink threw up his hand impatiently. “Uh course, that’s what I -intended to do. But if they ride over the ridge they’ll know we -never kept straight on to Rogers’, and then they’ll know we’re -dodging.” He urged his horse up the last steep slope, and led the -way over the brow of the bluff and out of sight of the ranch below. -“And I’m sure going to find out what that bunch has been making -themselves so mysterious about, the last couple uh days,” he vowed -grimly. “I slipped up on ’em yesterday down in the hay corral, and I -heard Cal say, ‘Sure, we can! There’s one in that Injun grave over -in Antelope Coulee.’” He stared at the others with purpling eyes. -“What’s in that grave, Weary? I never was right to it, myself.” - -“Nothing, Cadwolloper--except what is left of the old boy they -tucked under that ledge. There ain’t even a perfume any more. We can -go by that way and see if they’ve been there.” - -With that wordless understanding common among men who have lived -long together, they left the trail and ambled slowly across the -prairie in the direction of the Rogers Ranch. And they had not -traveled more than half a mile when Miguel, looking back very -cautiously, smiled. - -“Don’t look,” he said, and then added melodramatically: “We are -followed! Hist! The pursuers are in sight. Courage, men!” - -Pink risked a glance over his shoulder, and glimpsed two bobbing hat -crowns just over the brow of Flying U Coulee. - -“Now, wouldn’t that jar yuh?” he exclaimed, just as disgustedly as -if he had not all along suspected that very thing to happen. - -The moving specks stopped, remained stationary for a minute or two, -and then went bobbing back again. The four laughed, pressed spurred -heels against their horses, and galloped over the ridge and into the -lower end of Antelope Coulee. At the bottom they swung sharply to -the right, instead of to the left, rode as hurriedly as the uneven -ground would permit for a mile or more; crossed the trail to Dry -Lake, and kept on up the coulee to its very head. - -At one point their quick eyes saw where several horsemen had ridden -down into the coulee, dismounted, and climbed through shale rock to -the lone Indian grave under a low shelf of sandstone, left there -betraying imprints of high-heeled boots, returned again to where -their horses had waited, and ridden on. They also rode on, toward -One Man Coulee. Before them always lay the trail of shod hoofs, -where the soil was not too hard to receive an imprint. - -Patsy was standing in the door of the mess house beating his fat -knuckles upon a tin pan for the supper call, when Andy Green and -Miguel rode leisurely down the grade. The boys were straggling -toward the sound, and there was the usual bustle around the -washbasins and roller towels, and in the quiet air hung the enticing -odor of Patsy’s delectable chicken potpie. The two hurried to the -stable, unsaddled with the haste of hungry men, and reached the mess -house just as the clatter of feet had subsided and the potpie was -making its first round. - -Cal looked up from a generous helping. “Hello, where’s the rest of -the bunch?” he queried. - -“Oh, the girls have got them roped and tied,” Andy responded -carelessly. “Mig and I got cold feet, and broke back on them.” - -“Didn’t yuh go to town?” Irish spoke as innocently as if he had not -watched them well on their way from the shelter of the bluff. - -Miguel deigned him one of his heavy-lidded stares. “Why should one -go to town, when there are three pretty girls at the next ranch? -Town didn’t hold you fellows very long.” - -“I thought sure you’d gone after olives, by golly,” blurted Slim, -with his mouth half full of dumpling. - -“If I’d gone after them, I’d have got them,” Miguel, usually so -exasperatingly calm, spoke with some feeling. - -“Aw, g’wan! I betche yuh dassent go.” Happy Jack grinned arrogantly. - -“You wouldn’t bet anything but words,” retorted Miguel. “There are -several of you fellows that seem to be just that brand of sports.” -He gave the faint shrug which they all hated. - -Big Medicine laid down his knife and fork. “Say, do yuh mind naming -over them several fellers?” he inquired abruptly in his booming -voice. “I don’t bet words, by cripes--when I bet--” - -Miguel smiled across at him blandly. “We were speaking of olives,” -he purred “Happy Jack wanted to ‘betche’ I daren’t go after them. He -didn’t name the stakes, though.” - -“It ain’t because I ain’t willin’ to put ’em up,” glowered Happy. -“I’ll betche five dollars, then--if that suits yuh any better.” - -Miguel laughed, which was unusual when he was arguing with any one. -“Do you mean it? Do you really think that little, weak, -pretty-pretty ghost story would scare--a--nigger baby?” His voice -taunted the lot of them. - -“Don’t yuh believe there’s a ghost, by cripes?” Big Medicine bawled -pugnaciously. - -“No. Of course I don’t believe it. Neither do you.” Miguel spoke -with that weary tolerance which is so hard to endure. - -“I do,” Cal Emmett declared flatly. “And I’m willing to bet a horse -against them fancy spurs of yours that you dassent go to-night to -One Man Coulee and bring away them bottles of stuffed olives.” - -“What horse?” asked Miguel, reaching for the chicken platter. - -“Well--any darned horse I own!” Cal wore the open-eyed look of -innocence which had helped him scare out his opponents in many a -poker game. “I say to-night,” he added apologetically to the others, -“because it’s going to be clear and lots uh moonlight; and it’s -Sunday. But I don’t care what night he tries it. I’ll bet he won’t -bring away no olives.” - -“Aren’t they there?” Miguel wanted to know. - -“Oh--they’re there, I guess. I’ll change the wordin’ a little. I’ll -bet yuh dassent go to that shack, and go into it and stay long -enough to freeze onto twelve bottles uh anything. To-night,” he -added, “at mid--no, any old time between ten and one. And I’ll bet -any one uh my four cayuses against your spurs.” - -“It’s a go. Does the rest of my riding outfit look good to any of -you fellows?” Miguel glanced around the table smilingly. “Happy, for -instance--” - -“I got five dollars up,” Happy Jack reminded. “But I’ll put twenty -with it against your bridle.” - -“That bridle’s worth fifty dollars. And my saddle cost two hundred -and eighty. I’ll put them up, though, if any one wants to cover the -bet.” - -“Say, this is a shame. Honest to grandma, I’d hate to see Miggie -ridin’ bareback the rest uh the summer--with a rope hackamore, by -cripes! Don’t go ’n take all his purty-purties away from him like -that, boys! Haw-haw-haw!” It is unwise to laugh like that with one’s -mouth full of chicken. Big Medicine choked and retired from the -conversation and the room. - -“Say, you don’t reelize, by golly, what you’re up ag’inst,” Slim -observed ponderously. “If you did--” - -“Are you dead-game sports, or are you a bunch of old women?” drawled -Miguel. “My outfit is up, if any one has nerve enough to take the -bets.” - -They wrangled more or less amicably over it, as was their habit. But -they did finally bet a great deal more on the foolish venture than -they should have done. When, finally, they reached the time and the -point of departure, Miguel, like the plains Indians during the fever -of horse-racing, was pledged to his hat and his high-heeled boots; -while the Happy Family, if they lost, would have plenty of reason to -repent them of their rashness. - -They waited an hour for Pink and Weary to return, and, when they did -not appear, they rode off without them. They pitied Miguel, and told -him so. They told of haunted cabins, and of murders and dreams come -true, and of disasters that were weird. - -Andy Green, when half of the ten miles had been covered, roused -himself from his disapproving silence and told them a fearsome tale -of two miners murdered mysteriously and thrown into their own mine, -and of their dog which howled up and down the mountain gulches when -the moonlight lay soft upon the land; told it so that they rode -close-huddled that they might catch it all, down to the last -gruesomely mysterious incident of the murdered master whistling from -the pit to the dog, and of the animal’s whimpering obedience--long -years after, when the dog’s bones were bleaching through sun and -storm above, and the master’s bones were rotting in the darkness -below. - -Happy Jack more than once glanced uneasily toward the shadowy -hollows as they rode slowly across the prairies through the night -silence. Slim set his jaw and rode stiffly, staring straight ahead -of him as if he feared what he might see, if he looked aside. Miguel -was seen to shiver, though the air was soft and warm. - -“Now, this Olafson--” Andy began after a silence which no one -thought to break. “The boys joshed me a lot about that. But it was -queer--the queerest thing I ever saw or heard. To see him sitting -there in the firelight, listening--and while he listened, to hear -the wind whoo-whoo around the corners and down the chimney--and the -snow swish-swishing against the walls like grave clothes when the -ghosts walk--” - -“Aw--I thought yuh said there wasn’t any ghosts!” croaked Happy Jack -uneasily. - -“And then Olafson would lift his violin and draw the bow across--” - -Andy, the reins dropped upon the saddle horn, held an imaginary -violin cuddled under his chin, and across the phantom strings drew -an imaginary bow with slow, sweeping gestures, while his voice went -on with the tale, and the Happy Family watched, and listened, and -saw what he meant them to see. “And then would come that lonesome -whoo-oo of the wind--from the violin. He made me see things. He made -me see the storm, like it was a white spirit creeping over the -range. He made me see--” - -They had reached One Man Coulee while he talked. The Happy Family -stared down into the lonely place lying nakedly white under the -moon, shivered, and rode slowly down the slope. Like one in a trance -Andy rode in their midst, and compelled them with his voice to see -the things he would have them see. Compelled them to see Olafson, -the master musician, striving after the song of the north wind, and -the prairie, and the wolf; made them see him as he opened the door -and stood there gazing wildly out, playing--always -playing--something weird and wonderful, and supernaturally terrible. - -“I don’t envy Miguel his job none, by cripes,” Big Medicine said, as -they drew near the point beyond which the cabin would stand revealed -to them, and for a wonder he spoke softly. - -Andy glanced up at the yellow ball floating serenely over the blue -ocean of the sky, down the white-lighted coulee, with fringes of -black shadows here and there, and then at the cabin squatting -deserted against the green background of willows, with blank, -staring window and open doorway. - -“If such things can be--if the ghost of Olafson can come back, he’ll -come to-night and try again to play the wind,” he said solemnly. -“Just a low, even, creepy tone first on open G--” - -They rode slowly around to where they faced the door, pulled up -short fifty feet away from it, and stared. - -“There he is!” Andy’s voice was the whisper which carries far. “He’s -come, boys--to play the wind again! A low, creepy note on open G--” - -In the doorway, where the moon shone radiantly in, stood a -black-clothed figure topped by a grinning, fleshless skull. Cuddled -under the horrid, bony chin of it was a violin. The right arm was -upraised and bent, poising the bow above the strings. The staring, -empty eye sockets were lighted with a pale, phosphorescent glow. - -“Well, by golly!” gulped Slim, in an undertone, and backed his horse -a little involuntarily. - -“Aw--” Happy Jack looked at Irish and Cal, grinned sheepishly, and -was silent. - -“Go on, Miggie, and git your olives,” Big Medicine murmured. “Twelve -bottles. We’ll wait for yuh here.” - -Miguel slid off his horse without a word and started forward, -hesitating a trifle, if the truth were known. - -In the doorway the right arm of the figure trembled and moved slowly -upward, pulling the bow lightly across the strings. Came a low, -wailing note on open G, which swelled resonantly in the quiet air, -rose a tone, clung there, and slid eerily down to silence. - -Big Medicine started and stared across at Irish, and Cal Emmett, and -Jack Bates, who met his look incredulously. Miguel stopped short and -stood a moment in the blank silence which followed. The gaunt, black -figure bulked huge in the doorway, and the fleshless mouth grinned -at him sardonically. - -Miguel took a step or two forward. Again that ghostly arm lifted and -swept the bow across the strings. Again the eerie tones came -vibrantly, sliding up the scale, clinging, and wailing, and falling -again to silence when Miguel stood still. - -Big Medicine turned his horse short around, so that he faced those -three--Cal, Jack Bates, and Irish. - -“Say!--the--the thing’s playin’, by cripes!” he muttered accusingly, -and edged off fearfully. - -“Aw--say!” Happy Jack moved farther away in sudden, unashamed -terror. “What makes it--play?” - -Miguel stood longer that time, and the silence rasped the nerves of -those who waited farther off. When he moved forward again the -playing began. When he stopped, the ghostly arm was still. - -Happy Jack, with an unexpected, inarticulate squawk, kicked his -horse in the ribs and fled down the coulee. Slim went after him, -galloping with elbows flapping wildly. Those who waited longer saw -Miguel walk slowly up to the very threshold, and face the ghost that -played over and over that one, awful strain. They saw him stop as if -to gather together his courage, put down his head as if he were -battling a blizzard, and edge past the unearthly figure. - -As he disappeared within, brushing swiftly past the ghost, the -strings twanged ominously. Came an unearthly screech which was like -demons howling as howls the gray wolf before a storm. It raised the -hair on the scalp with that prickling sensation which is so -extremely unpleasant, and it sent Big Medicine, Cal, Jack Bates, and -Irish clattering down the coulee in the wake of Slim and Happy Jack. - -Andy Green held his horse and Miguel’s back from following, and -watched them out of sight before he rode closer to the awful thing -which guarded the door. - -“All right, boys--yuh may as well stop the concert; the audience is -halfway home by this time,” he called out, chuckling as he -dismounted and went clanking up to the doorway. “Say, by gracious, -yuh done fine! That last screech was sure a pippin--it like to have -stampeded me.” - -Pink disentangled his fingers from a fine bit of string and grunted. -“It ought to be. We’ve been practicing that howl, off and on, for -four hours. How was the fiddling, Andy?” - -“Outa sight. Say, yuh better take them strings off the bow, and make -darned sure you ain’t having any tracks, or anything. Let ’em come -back and find everything just the way they fixed the plant--and then -let ’em put in their spare time figuring the thing out, if they can. -They’ll likely come moseying back up here, pretty soon--all but -Happy and Slim--so you want to hurry. If you two can beat us home, -they’ll never get wise in a thousand years of hard thinking.” He -looked the ghost over critically, gave a snort, and painstakingly -straightened the bow. “Darned grave robbers,” he exclaimed, looking -at the skull. “Well, hike boys; I hear ’em coming. Got the olives -all right, Miguel? Come and get on your horse. We’ll meet ’em down -the trail a ways if we can. And say,” he called over his shoulder, -when he was beside his horse again, “you fellows do some going! If -you ain’t in bed when we get there, the stuff’s off.” Even while he -looked back, Pink and Weary dodged out and vanished in the gloom of -the willows. - -The Native Son, bearing in a gunny sack twelve bottles of stuffed -olives, and on his swarthy face an unstudied grin of elation, was -just making ready to mount when Irish and Big Medicine became -recognizable in the moonlight below. - -“We thought we’d come back and see if you were alive, anyway,” Irish -announced shamefacedly, with a glance toward the cabin and the -spectral figure in the doorway. “What did it do to yuh, Mig?” - -“Nothing, only caterwaul like the devil all the time I was getting -the olives. It’s shut up since I came out of the cabin. Seems like -it hates visitors.” - -“Er--did it--did the ghost make all that noise, honest?” Big -Medicine’s voice had lost some of its blatant assurance. He was -bewildered, and he showed it. - -“You heard him sawing on that fiddle, didn’t you? The screeching -seemed to come from--just all over the room.” Miguel waved his free -hand vaguely. “Just all over at once. Kinda got my goat, for a -minute or two.” - -The group rode slowly away, and when Miguel was through speaking -they went in silence. Halfway up the hill, Irish turned in the -saddle and stared down at the roof of the little cabin showing black -under the moon. - -“Well--I’ll--be--darned!” he stated slowly and emphatically, and -rode on with the others, who seemed to be thinking deeply. - -Their meditations must have been to some purpose, for, after a hasty -word or two snatched in private with his fellow conspirators, Irish -set the pace. - -At the stable he did not wait to unsaddle first of all. Instead he -went hurriedly inside, lighted a match, and held it up while he -surveyed the wall where the Happy Family were wont to hang their -saddles--when they hung them anywhere. Two familiar saddles dangled -there, each hanging upon its accustomed peg by its accustomed right -stirrup, proclaiming silently and unanswerably the fact of their -owners’ presence upon the ranch. When the match flickered and went -out, Irish discovered that Cal, Jack Bates, Big Medicine, and Happy -Jack were standing behind him, staring also. - -“Well--I’ll--be--darned!” said Irish again softly, and dropped the -stub with a gesture of keen disappointment. - -“It wasn’t them, then,” muttered Big Medicine at his shoulder. “And -the--the thing--it played, by cripes!” - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GHOST OF ONE MAN COULEE *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our website which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This website includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/old/67822-0.zip b/old/67822-0.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 861c514..0000000 --- a/old/67822-0.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/67822-h.zip b/old/67822-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 1e3b13f..0000000 --- a/old/67822-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/67822-h/67822-h.htm b/old/67822-h/67822-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 1f39c86..0000000 --- a/old/67822-h/67822-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1261 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<head> - <meta charset="UTF-8" /> - <title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Ghost of One Man Coulee, by B. M. Bower</title> - <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover" /> - <style> - body { margin-left:8%; margin-right:8%; } - p { text-indent:1.15em; margin-top:0.1em; margin-bottom:0.1em; text-align:justify; } - h1 { text-align:center; font-weight:normal; font-size:1.4em; } - .tn { background-color:linen; font-size:0.8em; border:1px solid silver; margin-top:1.8em; margin-left:8%; margin-bottom:1em; width:80%; padding:0.4em 2%; } - </style> -</head> - -<body> -<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Ghost of One Man Coulee, by B. M. Bower</p> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Ghost of One Man Coulee</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: B. M. Bower</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: April 12, 2022 [eBook #67822]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Roger Frank and Sue Clark.</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GHOST OF ONE MAN COULEE ***</div> - -<h1>The Ghost of One Man Coulee</h1> -<p style='text-align:center;'>By B. M. Bower<br/> -<span style='font-size:smaller'>Author of “The Happy Family Stories,” “Lonesome Land,” Etc.</span></p> -<div class='tn'> - <p style='text-indent:0'>Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in - the January 1, 1913 issue of <i>The Popular Magazine</i>.</p> -</div> - -<blockquote style='font-size:0.9em;'>The reappearance of Olafson, the violinist, -who had gone out in the blizzard and was lost seeking the north wind -that he might learn the song it sang, and who, according to Happy Jack, -returned to earth on moonlight nights to play his violin in the doorway -of the deserted shack in One Man Coulee.</blockquote> - -<p>Happy Jack, by some freak of misguided -ambition, was emulating rather heavily the elfish imagination of Andy -Green. He was—to put it baldly and colloquially—throwing a big load -into the Native Son who jingled his gorgeous silver spurs close -alongside Happy’s more soberly accoutered heel.</p> - -<p>“That there,” Happy was saying, with ponderous gravity, “is the shack -where the old fiddler went crazy trying to play a tune like the wind—or -some blamed fool thing like that—and killed himself because he couldn’t -make it stick. It’s haunted, that shack is. The old fellow’s ghost comes -around there moonlight nights and plays the fiddle in the door.”</p> - -<p>The Native Son, more properly christened Miguel, turned a languidly -velvet glance toward the cabin and flicked the ashes from his cigarette -daintily. “Have you ever seen the ghost, Happy?” he asked indulgently.</p> - -<p>“Ah—yes, sure! I seen it m’self,” Happy lied boldly.</p> - -<p>“And were you scared?”</p> - -<p>“Me? Scared? Hunh!” Happy gave a fairly good imitation of dumb disgust. -“Why, I went and—”</p> - -<p>Happy’s imagination floundered in the stagnant pool of a slow-thinking -brain.</p> - -<p>“I went right in and—”</p> - -<p>“Exactly.” Miguel smiled a smile of even, white teeth and ironical lips. -“Some moonlight night we will come back here at midnight, you and I. I -have heard of that man, and I am fond of music. We will come and listen -to him.”</p> - -<p>Some of the other boys, ambling up from behind, caught a part of the -speech, and looked at one another, grinning.</p> - -<p>“The Native Son’s broke out all over with schoolbook grammar ag’in,” Big -Medicine remarked. “Wonder what Happy’s done? I’ve noticed, by cripes, -that the guilty party better duck, when that there Miguel begins to talk -like a schoolma’am huntin’ a job! Hey, there!” he bellowed suddenly, so -that one might hear him half a mile away. “What’s this here music talk I -hear? Who’s goin’ to play, and where at, and how much is it a head?”</p> - -<p>Miguel turned and looked back at the group, smiling still. “Happy was -telling me about a ghost in that cabin down there.” He flung out a hand -toward the place so suddenly that his horse jumped in fear of the quirt. -“I say we’ll come back some night and listen to the ghost. Happy says he -frequently rides over to hear it play on moonlight nights, and—”</p> - -<p>“Aw, g’wan!” Happy Jack began to look uncomfortable in his mind. “I -said—”</p> - -<p>“Happy? If he thought there was a ghost in One Man Coulee, you couldn’t -tie him down and haul him past in a hayrack at noon,” Andy asserted -sharply. “There isn’t any ghost.”</p> - -<p>Andy set his lips firmly together, and stared reminiscently down the -hill at the lonely little cabin in the coulee. Memory, the original -moving-picture machine, which can never be equaled by any man-made -contrivance, flashed upon him vividly a picture of the night when he had -sat within that cabin, listening to the man who would play the north -wind, and who wept because it eluded him always; who played -wonderfully—a genius gone mad under the spell of his own music—and at -last rushed out into the blizzard and was lost, seeking the north wind -that he might learn the song it sang. The scene gripped Andy, even in -memory. He wondered fancifully if Olafson was still wandering with his -violin, searching for the home of the north wind. They had never found -him, not even when the snows had gone and the land lay bare beneath a -spring sky. He must have frozen, for the night had been bitter, and a -blizzard raged blindingly. Still, they had never found a trace of him.</p> - -<p>There had been those who, after searching a while in vain, had accused -Andy to his face of building the story to excite his fellows. He had -been known to deceive his friends heartlessly, and there had been some -argument over the real fate of the vanished Olafson. If Andy had told -the truth, asked the doubters, where was Olafson’s body? And who had -ever tried to play the wind? Who, save Andy Green, would ever think of -such a fantastic tale? Happy Jack, Andy remembered resentfully, had been -unusually vociferous in his unbelief, even for him.</p> - -<p>“Aw, you stuck to it there was all the makin’s of a ghost,” Happy -defended awkwardly, and wished that Andy Green had not overheard the -yarn he told Miguel. “Sure, there’s a ghost!” He fell back a step that -he might wink at Big Medicine, and so enlist his sledge-hammer -assistance. “I leave it to Bud if we didn’t hear it, one night—-”</p> - -<p>“And seen it, too, by cripes!” Big Medicine enlarged readily and -shamelessly. “Standin’ right in the door, playin’ the fiddle to beat a -straight flush.” He glared around the little group with his protruding -eyes until his glance met the curious look of Cal Emmett. “You was with -us, Cal,” he asserted boldly. “I leave it to you if we didn’t see ’im -and hear ’im.”</p> - -<p>Cal, thus besought to bear false witness, did so with amiable alacrity. -“We sure did,” he declared.</p> - -<p>“Funny you never said a word about it before,” snapped Andy, with open -disbelief in his tone.</p> - -<p>“We thought nobody’d believe us if we did tell it,” Big Medicine -explained.</p> - -<p>“Pity yuh don’t always think as close to the mark as yuh done then,” -Andy retorted.</p> - -<p>“How do yuh know there ain’t a ghost?” Big Medicine demanded with some -slight rancor, born not of the argument, but of temporary ill feeling -between the two. “Is it because yuh know, by cripes, that yuh lied last -winter?”</p> - -<p>Andy’s lips tightened. “I’ve heard about enough of that,” he said, with -a flash of anger. With the cabin in sight, and recalling the tragedy of -that night, he was not in the mood to wrangle good-naturedly about it -with any one—least of all with Big Medicine. “I didn’t lie. I’m dead -willing to back what I said about it with my fists, if—”</p> - -<p>Big Medicine twitched the reins to ride close, but Miguel’s horse sidled -suddenly and blocked the move. Also, Miguel smiled guilelessly into the -angry eyes of Big Medicine.</p> - -<p>“Will you fellows come back with me to-night, then, and see the ghost?” -he asked lightly. “Or don’t you dare tackle it again?”</p> - -<p>Big Medicine snorted and forgot his immediate intentions toward Andy, -just as Miguel, perhaps, intended that he should do.</p> - -<p>“You wouldn’t dast come along, if we did,” he glowered. “I’d camp there -alone for a month, far as I’m concerned, if there was any grub, by -cripes!”</p> - -<p>“That shows how much you know about the place,” put in Pink, siding with -Andy. “Unless somebody’s packed it away lately, there’s all kinds of -grub left. Maybe the flour, and bacon, and beans is gone, but there’s -enough pickles and stuffed olives to last—”</p> - -<p>“<em>Olives!</em>” cried the Native Son, and looked -back longingly at the rugged bluff which marked One Man Coulee. “Say, -does anybody belong to them olives?”</p> - -<p>“Nobody but the ghost,” grinned Pink. “We bought him twelve lovely tall -bottles, just to please Jimmie; he told us there wasn’t any sale for -stuffed olives in Dry Lake, and he offered ’em to us at cost. We did -think uh taking all he had, but we cut it down to twelve bottles -afterward. And Olafson never ate a darned olive all the time he was -there!”</p> - -<p>“And they’re there yet, you say?” It was plain that Miguel was far more -interested in the olives than he was in the ghost.</p> - -<p>“Sure, they’re there.” Pink was not troubling to warp the truth, as -Miguel decided, after a sharp glance. “The stuff all belonged to -Olafson, and the shack belongs to the Old Man. And when Olafson went -crazy over the wind, and froze to death,” he stipulated distinctly, with -a challenging glance at Big Medicine, “we all kept thinking at first -he’d come back, maybe. But he never did—”</p> - -<p>“Exceptin’ his ghost, by golly!” put in Slim unexpectedly, with a -belated snort of amusement at the idea.</p> - -<p>“I’d rather,” sighed Miguel, “have a dozen bottles of stuffed olives -than a dozen kisses from the prettiest girl in the State.”</p> - -<p>“Mamma! they’re easier to get, anyway. If you want ’em that bad—”</p> - -<p>“That there ghost may have something to say about them olives,” Happy -Jack warned, sticking stubbornly to his story.</p> - -<p>Miguel smiled—and there was that in his smile which sent four -mendacious cow-punchers hot with resentment.</p> - -<p>“Maybe yuh don’t <em>believe</em> in that ghost, by cripes?” Big Medicine -challenged indignantly, and gave Miguel a pale, pop-eyed stare meant to -be intimidating.</p> - -<p>Miguel smiled again as at some secret joke, and made no reply at all.</p> - -<p>“Well—don’t yuh <em>b’lieve</em> it?” Big Medicine roared after a minute.</p> - -<p>Miguel smiled gently and inspected his cigarette; emotions might surge -about this Native Son and beat themselves to a white froth upon the rock -of his absolute, inimitable imperturbability, as the Happy Family knew -well. Now they rode close-grouped, intensely interested in this struggle -between bull-bellowing violence and languid impassivity.</p> - -<p>“You don’t believe it yourself, do you?” Miguel inquired evenly at last, -rousing himself from his abstraction. “Did you expect me to swallow -hook, sinker, and all?”</p> - -<p>Big Medicine looked positively murderous. “When I say a thing is so,” he -cried, “I expect, by cripes, that folks will take m’ bare word for it. I -don’t have to produce no affidavies, nor haul in any witnesses. I ain’t -like Andy, here. You’re dealin’ now with a man that can look truth in -the face and never bat an eye.”</p> - -<p>Miguel smiled again, this time more humanly amused. “I’ve met men before -who hadn’t a speaking acquaintance with Dame Truth,” he drawled. “They -looked her in the face, too—and she never recognized ’em.”</p> - -<p>Big Medicine was at that critical point where make-believe may easily -become reality. He had been “joshing” and playing he was mad before; now -his glare hardened perceptibly, so that more than one of the boys -noticed the difference.</p> - -<p>“Aw, if he don’t want to believe it he don’t have to,” Happy Jack -intercepted Big Medicine’s belligerent speech. “Chances is them -olives’ll stay where they’re at a good long while, though—if Mig-u-ell -has to get ’em after dark.”</p> - -<p>Miguel smoked while he rode ten rods. “I offered to come and listen to -the ghost fiddle his fastest,” he observed at last, “and not one of you -fellows took me up on it. To-night I’ll come alone and get those olives. -I guess I can carry twelve bottles all right.”</p> - -<p>“It’s no use to-night,” Cal Emmett objected. “It’s only on moonlight -nights—” He looked a question at Big Medicine.</p> - -<p>“Moonlight it’s got to be. There ain’t a moon till—”</p> - -<p>“I can find stuffed olives any old kind of a night.” Miguel blew the -ashes from his cigarette. “It’s the olives I want, amigo. I don’t give a -whoop for your ghost.”</p> - -<p>“Aw, I betche yuh dassent come when it’s moonlight, just the same,” -cried Happy Jack. “I betche ten dollars yuh <em>dassent</em>.”</p> - -<p>It would be tiresome to repeat all that was said upon the subject -thereafter. So slight a thing as Happy Jack’s wrongful desire to lie as -convincingly as could Andy Green, led the whole Happy Family into a -profitless and more or less acrimonious argument. Each man, according to -his nature, and the mood he happened to be in at the moment, took up the -discussion. And speedily it developed that the faction against Miguel, -Andy Green, and Pink included every man of them save Weary, who would -stand by Pink regardless of the issue.</p> - -<p>It was nearly noon, and they were hungry, and headed toward camp; but -despite their haste they argued the foolish question of whether the -cabin in One Man Coulee was haunted. Six of them maintained stubbornly -that it was—for Irish began to side with Happy Jack just because he did -not like the Native Son very well, and that ironical smile of Miguel’s -irritated him to a degree; and Jack Bates also espoused the ghost -because he scented an opportunity for excitement. The minority, composed -of Miguel, Pink, Andy Green, and Weary, confined themselves largely to -sarcasm—which is the oil which feeds fastest the flames of dissension.</p> - -<p>It was foolish, to be sure; just as foolish as many other things which -men drift into doing. But they, nevertheless, reached that point where, -as in the case of Big Medicine, make-believe crowded close upon reality. -The four rode together into camp ten paces ahead of the six, and they -talked in low tones among themselves mostly. When they did deign to look -at the six, their glances were unfriendly, and when they spoke their -speech was barbed so that it stung the listeners. And the six retaliated -vigorously—the more so because they had been silly enough in the first -place to declare their belief in the nonexistent, and had been betrayed -into making many ridiculous assertions which they were too obstinate to -withdraw; so that once again the Happy Family belied the name men had -given it, and became for the time being a bunch of as disagreeable -cow-punchers as one could find in four days’ ride.</p> - -<p>“Aw, say, I sure would like to put it on them fellers <em>good</em>!” -Happy Jack growled to Cal and Jack Bates on the way to the corralled -saddle bunch after dinner. Happy Jack was purple with wrath, for a -caustic sentence or two spoken in Miguel’s most maddening drawl was yet -stinging his ears. “That there Native Son makes me <em>tired</em>! I -wisht there <em>was</em> a ghost—I’d sure—”</p> - -<p>“Oh, there’s a ghost, all right,” Jack Bates stated meaningly; “all yuh -got to do is make one.”</p> - -<p>“Say, by golly!” Slim, close behind them, gulped excitedly. “Wouldn’t -it—”</p> - -<p>“Say, don’t let them faces get to leaking,” Cal advised bluntly. “It’s a -whole week till the moon’s good. Shut up!”</p> - -<p>Slim goggled at him, caught the hazy beginning of an idea, grinned, and -stepped over the rope into the corral. He was grinning when he caught -his horse, and he was still grinning widely while he cinched the saddle. -He caught Andy Green eying him suspiciously, and snickered outright. But -he did not say a word, and, therefore, went his way, believing that he -had given no hint of what was in his mind.</p> - -<p>Slim and Happy Jack were alike in one respect: Their minds worked slowly -and rather ponderously—and, like other ponderous machinery, once in -motion they were hard to stop. The others would have left the subject -alone, after that hour of hot argument, and in time would have forgotten -it except for an occasional jeer, perhaps; but not so Happy Jack and -Slim.</p> - -<p>The Flying U outfit ate, saddled fresh horses, reloaded the mess wagon, -and moved on toward Dry Creek, and that night flung weary bodies upon -the growing grass in the shade of the tents, twenty miles and more from -One Man Coulee and the little cabin with its grim history of genius -blotted out in madness. Nevertheless, Slim searched ostentatiously with -plate, knife, and fork in his hand, at supper time, and craned his neck -over boxes and cans, until he had the attention of his fellows, who were -hungry, and elbowed him out of their way with scant courtesy.</p> - -<p>“Say, Mig-u-ell, where’s them stuffed olives?” he called at last. “I -thought, by golly, we was goin’ to have some olives for supper?”</p> - -<p>“Olives—<em>stuffed</em> olives, are best picked by moonlight, they tell me,” -Miguel responded unemotionally, glancing up over his cup. “Have -patience, amigo.”</p> - -<p>Slim nudged Happy Jack so that he spilled half his coffee and swore -because it was hot, caught Big Medicine’s pale-eyed glare upon him, and -subsided so suddenly that he choked over his next sentence, which had -nothing at all to do with olives, or ghosts, or insane fiddlers.</p> - -<p>Men, it would seem, never quite leave their boyhood behind them; at -least, those men do not who live naturally and individually, untainted -by the poison of the great money marts where human nature is warped and -perverted so that nearly all natural instincts are subordinated to the -lust for gain of one sort and another. In the Bear Paw country men labor -for gain, it is true; but they also live the lives for which nature has -created them. There is that in the wide reaches of plain and valley, in -the clean arch of blue sky and drifting clouds overhead, which keeps the -best of them boyish till their temples are marked with white—yes, and -after.</p> - -<p>It was that tenacious element which started Irish, Cal Emmett, Jack -Bates, and Big Medicine to tilting hat brims together when none others -were near observe them. It was that which sent them off riding by -themselves—to town, they said before they started—early on the first -Sunday after the wagons had pulled in to the ranch, there to stand until -the beef round-up started.</p> - -<p>They returned unobtrusively by mid-afternoon, and they looked very well -satisfied with themselves, and inclined to facetiousness.</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter?” Weary asked them pointedly when they dismounted at -the corral. “Come back after something you forgot?”</p> - -<p>“Yeah—sure,” Cal returned, with a flicker of eyelids. “Nothing doing in -that darned imitation of a town, anyway.”</p> - -<p>“Where’s the mail?” Pink demanded expectantly.</p> - -<p>“We—plumb forgot that there mail, by cripes!” Big Medicine looked up -quickly. “Irish was goin’ to git it, but he didn’t.”</p> - -<p>Pink said nothing, but he studied the four from under the long, curled -lashed which he had found very useful in concealing covert glances.</p> - -<p>“Sorry, Little One—honest to grandma, I am!” Big Medicine clapped him -patronizingly on the shoulder as he passed him.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know as it matters,” said Pink sweetly. “Some of us were just -about ready to hit the trail. We can get it, I guess. Say! Ain’t you got -that cayuse caught up yet, Mig?” he called out to the Native Son, who -was reclining luxuriously against a new stack of sweet-smelling -bluejoint hay. “Come out of your trance, or we’ll go off and leave you!”</p> - -<p>“Oh—yuh going to town?” Cal looked over his shoulder with some -uneasiness in his baby-blue eyes.</p> - -<p>“Maybe we are and maybe we ain’t. Maybe we’re going to see our best -girls. What’s it <em>to</em> you?” Pink turned his back on Cal and looked full -at Weary. “Come on—the girls will be plumb wild if we don’t get a move -on,” he said carelessly, and picked up his bridle. “Where’s Andy? I -thought he said he wanted to go along. Hurry up, Mig, if you’re going.”</p> - -<p>Nobody knew what he was driving at, but the three were mounted well -within ten minutes, and flinging back remarks to the four who had lately -returned. The departing ones were well up on the hogback before any one -of them ventured to question Pink, who rode with the air of one whose -destination is fixed, and whose desire outstrips his body in the -journey.</p> - -<p>“Say, Cadwolloper, where are we headed for?” Weary inquired then -resignedly. “And what’s the rush?”</p> - -<p>Pink glanced down the hill toward the stable and corrals, decided that -they were being observed with something very like suspicion, and faced -to the front again. “We’re going to <em>head</em> for Rogers’,” he dimpled, -“but we ain’t going to get there. Yuh needn’t look down there—but Irish -and Cal are saddling up again. They’re afraid we’re going to town. -They’re going to trail us up and find out for sure.”</p> - -<p>“They sure did act like they’d been holding up a train, when they rode -up,” Weary observed. “I’ve been searching my soul with a spyglass trying -to find the answer for all that guilt on their faces.”</p> - -<p>“Happy Jack has been mentioning stuffed olives and moonlight pretty -often to-day,” the Native Son remarked with apparent irrelevance. “I -thought he’d pickled that josh, but he’s working things up again. Two -and two make four; <em>that</em> four.” With the slightest of head tilts he -indicated those below, and flashed his even, white teeth in a smile. “Do -you want me to guess where you’re going, Pink?”</p> - -<p>“I wish you fellows would guess how we’re going to ditch them two -pirates, first,” Pink retorted, glancing down again at the stable -without turning his head. “If we strike straight for Rogers’, maybe -they’ll turn back, though. They’ll think we’ve gone over there to see -the girls.”</p> - -<p>“If I knew the country a little better—” began the Native Son, and -stopped with that.</p> - -<p>“If they don’t follow us over the ridge,” spoke up Andy, who had been -thinking deeply, “we can go up Antelope Coulee instead of down, and -follow along in the edge of the breaks to the head of One Man, and down -that; that’s where you’re going, isn’t it? It will be five or six miles -farther.”</p> - -<p>Pink threw up his hand impatiently. “Uh course, that’s what I intended -to do. But if they ride over the ridge they’ll know we never kept -straight on to Rogers’, and then they’ll know we’re dodging.” He urged -his horse up the last steep slope, and led the way over the brow of the -bluff and out of sight of the ranch below. “And I’m sure going to find -out what that bunch has been making themselves so mysterious about, the -last couple uh days,” he vowed grimly. “I slipped up on ’em yesterday -down in the hay corral, and I heard Cal say, ‘Sure, we can! There’s one -in that Injun grave over in Antelope Coulee.’” He stared at the others -with purpling eyes. “What’s in that grave, Weary? I never was right to -it, myself.”</p> - -<p>“Nothing, Cadwolloper—except what is left of the old boy they tucked -under that ledge. There ain’t even a <em>per</em>fume any more. We can go by -that way and see if they’ve been there.”</p> - -<p>With that wordless understanding common among men who have lived long -together, they left the trail and ambled slowly across the prairie in -the direction of the Rogers Ranch. And they had not traveled more than -half a mile when Miguel, looking back very cautiously, smiled.</p> - -<p>“Don’t look,” he said, and then added melodramatically: “We are -followed! Hist! The pursuers are in sight. Courage, men!”</p> - -<p>Pink risked a glance over his shoulder, and glimpsed two bobbing hat -crowns just over the brow of Flying U Coulee.</p> - -<p>“Now, wouldn’t that jar yuh?” he exclaimed, just as disgustedly as if he -had not all along suspected that very thing to happen.</p> - -<p>The moving specks stopped, remained stationary for a minute or two, and -then went bobbing back again. The four laughed, pressed spurred heels -against their horses, and galloped over the ridge and into the lower end -of Antelope Coulee. At the bottom they swung sharply to the right, -instead of to the left, rode as hurriedly as the uneven ground would -permit for a mile or more; crossed the trail to Dry Lake, and kept on up -the coulee to its very head.</p> - -<p>At one point their quick eyes saw where several horsemen had ridden down -into the coulee, dismounted, and climbed through shale rock to the lone -Indian grave under a low shelf of sandstone, left there betraying -imprints of high-heeled boots, returned again to where their horses had -waited, and ridden on. They also rode on, toward One Man Coulee. Before -them always lay the trail of shod hoofs, where the soil was not too hard -to receive an imprint.</p> - -<p>Patsy was standing in the door of the mess house beating his fat -knuckles upon a tin pan for the supper call, when Andy Green and Miguel -rode leisurely down the grade. The boys were straggling toward the -sound, and there was the usual bustle around the washbasins and roller -towels, and in the quiet air hung the enticing odor of Patsy’s -delectable chicken potpie. The two hurried to the stable, unsaddled with -the haste of hungry men, and reached the mess house just as the clatter -of feet had subsided and the potpie was making its first round.</p> - -<p>Cal looked up from a generous helping. “Hello, where’s the rest of the -bunch?” he queried.</p> - -<p>“Oh, the girls have got them roped and tied,” Andy responded carelessly. -“Mig and I got cold feet, and broke back on them.”</p> - -<p>“Didn’t yuh go to town?” Irish spoke as innocently as if he had not -watched them well on their way from the shelter of the bluff.</p> - -<p>Miguel deigned him one of his heavy-lidded stares. “Why should one go -to town, when there are three pretty girls at the next ranch? Town -didn’t hold <em>you</em> fellows very long.”</p> - -<p>“I thought sure you’d gone after olives, by golly,” blurted Slim, with -his mouth half full of dumpling.</p> - -<p>“If I’d gone after them, I’d have got them,” Miguel, usually so -exasperatingly calm, spoke with some feeling.</p> - -<p>“Aw, g’wan! I betche yuh <em>dassent</em> go.” Happy Jack grinned arrogantly.</p> - -<p>“You wouldn’t bet anything but words,” retorted Miguel. “There are -several of you fellows that seem to be just that brand of sports.” He -gave the faint shrug which they all hated.</p> - -<p>Big Medicine laid down his knife and fork. “Say, do yuh mind naming over -them several fellers?” he inquired abruptly in his booming voice. “<em>I</em> -don’t bet words, by cripes—when I bet—”</p> - -<p>Miguel smiled across at him blandly. “We were speaking of olives,” he -purred “Happy Jack wanted to ‘betche’ I daren’t go after them. He didn’t -name the stakes, though.”</p> - -<p>“It ain’t because I ain’t willin’ to put ’em up,” glowered Happy. “I’ll -betche five dollars, then—if that suits yuh any better.”</p> - -<p>Miguel laughed, which was unusual when he was arguing with any one. “Do -you mean it? Do you really think that little, weak, pretty-pretty ghost -story would scare—a—nigger baby?” His voice taunted the lot of them.</p> - -<p>“Don’t yuh <em>believe</em> there’s a ghost, by cripes?” Big Medicine bawled -pugnaciously.</p> - -<p>“No. Of course I don’t believe it. Neither do you.” Miguel spoke with -that weary tolerance which is so hard to endure.</p> - -<p>“<em>I</em> do,” Cal Emmett declared flatly. “And I’m willing to bet a horse -against them fancy spurs of yours that you dassent go to-night to One -Man Coulee and bring away them bottles of stuffed olives.”</p> - -<p>“What horse?” asked Miguel, reaching for the chicken platter.</p> - -<p>“Well—<em>any</em> darned horse I <em>own</em>!” Cal wore the open-eyed look of -innocence which had helped him scare out his opponents in many a poker -game. “I say to-night,” he added apologetically to the others, “because -it’s going to be clear and lots uh moonlight; and it’s Sunday. But I -don’t care <em>what</em> night he tries it. I’ll bet he won’t bring away no -<em>olives</em>.”</p> - -<p>“Aren’t they there?” Miguel wanted to know.</p> - -<p>“Oh—they’re there, I guess. I’ll change the wordin’ a little. I’ll bet -yuh dassent go to that shack, and go into it and stay long enough to -freeze onto twelve bottles uh <em>anything</em>. To-night,” he added, “at -mid—no, any old time between ten and one. And I’ll bet any one uh my -four cayuses against your spurs.”</p> - -<p>“It’s a go. Does the rest of my riding outfit look good to any of you -fellows?” Miguel glanced around the table smilingly. “Happy, for -instance—”</p> - -<p>“I got five dollars up,” Happy Jack reminded. “But I’ll put twenty with -it against your bridle.”</p> - -<p>“That bridle’s worth fifty dollars. And my saddle cost two hundred and -eighty. I’ll put them up, though, if any one wants to cover the bet.”</p> - -<p>“Say, this is a shame. Honest to grandma, I’d hate to see Miggie ridin’ -bareback the rest uh the summer—with a rope hackamore, by cripes! Don’t -go ’n take all his purty-purties away from him like that, boys! -Haw-haw-haw!” It is unwise to laugh like that with one’s mouth full of -chicken. Big Medicine choked and retired from the conversation and the -room.</p> - -<p>“Say, you don’t reelize, by golly, what you’re up ag’inst,” Slim -observed ponderously. “If you did—”</p> - -<p>“Are you dead-game sports, or are you a bunch of old women?” drawled -Miguel. “My outfit is up, if any one has nerve enough to take the bets.”</p> - -<p>They wrangled more or less amicably over it, as was their habit. But -they did finally bet a great deal more on the foolish venture than they -should have done. When, finally, they reached the time and the point of -departure, Miguel, like the plains Indians during the fever of -horse-racing, was pledged to his hat and his high-heeled boots; while the -Happy Family, if they lost, would have plenty of reason to repent them -of their rashness.</p> - -<p>They waited an hour for Pink and Weary to return, and, when they did not -appear, they rode off without them. They pitied Miguel, and told him so. -They told of haunted cabins, and of murders and dreams come true, and -of disasters that were weird.</p> - -<p>Andy Green, when half of the ten miles had been covered, roused himself -from his disapproving silence and told them a fearsome tale of two -miners murdered mysteriously and thrown into their own mine, and of -their dog which howled up and down the mountain gulches when the -moonlight lay soft upon the land; told it so that they rode -close-huddled that they might catch it all, down to the last gruesomely -mysterious incident of the murdered master whistling from the pit to the -dog, and of the animal’s whimpering obedience—long years after, when -the dog’s bones were bleaching through sun and storm above, and the -master’s bones were rotting in the darkness below.</p> - -<p>Happy Jack more than once glanced uneasily toward the shadowy hollows as -they rode slowly across the prairies through the night silence. Slim set -his jaw and rode stiffly, staring straight ahead of him as if he feared -what he might see, if he looked aside. Miguel was seen to shiver, though -the air was soft and warm.</p> - -<p>“Now, this Olafson—” Andy began after a silence which no one thought to -break. “The boys joshed me a lot about that. But it was queer—the -queerest thing I ever saw or heard. To see him sitting there in the -firelight, listening—and while he listened, to hear the wind <em>whoo-whoo</em> -around the corners and down the chimney—and the snow <em>swish-swishing</em> -against the walls like grave clothes when the ghosts walk—”</p> - -<p>“Aw—I thought yuh said there <em>wasn’t</em> any ghosts!” croaked Happy Jack -uneasily.</p> - -<p>“And then Olafson would lift his violin and draw the bow across—”</p> - -<p>Andy, the reins dropped upon the saddle horn, held an imaginary violin -cuddled under his chin, and across the phantom strings drew an imaginary -bow with slow, sweeping gestures, while his voice went on with the tale, -and the Happy Family watched, and listened, and saw what he meant them -to see. “And then would come that lonesome <em>whoo-oo</em> of the wind—from -the violin. He made me see things. He made me see the storm, like it was -a white spirit creeping over the range. He made me see—”</p> - -<p>They had reached One Man Coulee while he talked. The Happy Family stared -down into the lonely place lying nakedly white under the moon, shivered, -and rode slowly down the slope. Like one in a trance Andy rode in their -midst, and compelled them with his voice to see the things he would have -them see. Compelled them to see Olafson, the master musician, striving -after the song of the north wind, and the prairie, and the wolf; made -them see him as he opened the door and stood there gazing wildly out, -playing—always playing—something weird and wonderful, and -supernaturally terrible.</p> - -<p>“I don’t envy Miguel his job none, by cripes,” Big Medicine said, as -they drew near the point beyond which the cabin would stand revealed to -them, and for a wonder he spoke softly.</p> - -<p>Andy glanced up at the yellow ball floating serenely over the blue ocean -of the sky, down the white-lighted coulee, with fringes of black shadows -here and there, and then at the cabin squatting deserted against the -green background of willows, with blank, staring window and open -doorway.</p> - -<p>“If such things can be—if the ghost of Olafson can come back, he’ll -come to-night and try again to play the wind,” he said solemnly. “Just a -low, even, creepy tone first on open G—”</p> - -<p>They rode slowly around to where they faced the door, pulled up short -fifty feet away from it, and stared.</p> - -<p>“<em>There he is!</em>” Andy’s voice was the whisper which carries far. -“He’s <em>come</em>, boys—to play the wind again! A low, creepy note -on open G—”</p> - -<p>In the doorway, where the moon shone radiantly in, stood a black-clothed -figure topped by a grinning, fleshless skull. Cuddled under the horrid, -bony chin of it was a violin. The right arm was upraised and bent, -poising the bow above the strings. The staring, empty eye sockets were -lighted with a pale, phosphorescent glow.</p> - -<p>“Well, by golly!” gulped Slim, in an undertone, and backed his horse a -little involuntarily.</p> - -<p>“Aw—” Happy Jack looked at Irish and Cal, grinned sheepishly, and was silent.</p> - -<p>“Go on, Miggie, and git your olives,” Big Medicine murmured. “Twelve -bottles. We’ll wait for yuh here.”</p> - -<p>Miguel slid off his horse without a word and started forward, hesitating -a trifle, if the truth were known.</p> - -<p>In the doorway the right arm of the figure trembled and moved slowly -upward, pulling the bow lightly across the strings. Came a low, wailing -note on open G, which swelled resonantly in the quiet air, rose a tone, -clung there, and slid eerily down to silence.</p> - -<p>Big Medicine started and stared across at Irish, and Cal Emmett, and -Jack Bates, who met his look incredulously. Miguel stopped short and -stood a moment in the blank silence which followed. The gaunt, black -figure bulked huge in the doorway, and the fleshless mouth grinned at -him sardonically.</p> - -<p>Miguel took a step or two forward. Again that ghostly arm lifted and -swept the bow across the strings. Again the eerie tones came vibrantly, -sliding up the scale, clinging, and wailing, and falling again to -silence when Miguel stood still.</p> - -<p>Big Medicine turned his horse short around, so that he faced those -three—Cal, Jack Bates, and Irish.</p> - -<p>“<em>Say!</em>—the—the thing’s <em>playin’</em>, by cripes!” he muttered accusingly, -and edged off fearfully.</p> - -<p>“Aw—say!” Happy Jack moved farther away in sudden, unashamed terror. -“What makes it—<em>play</em>?”</p> - -<p>Miguel stood longer that time, and the silence rasped the nerves of -those who waited farther off. When he moved forward again the playing -began. When he stopped, the ghostly arm was still.</p> - -<p>Happy Jack, with an unexpected, inarticulate squawk, kicked his horse in -the ribs and fled down the coulee. Slim went after him, galloping with -elbows flapping wildly. Those who waited longer saw Miguel walk slowly -up to the very threshold, and face the ghost that played over and over -that one, awful strain. They saw him stop as if to gather together his -courage, put down his head as if he were battling a blizzard, and edge -past the unearthly figure.</p> - -<p>As he disappeared within, brushing swiftly past the ghost, the strings -twanged ominously. Came an unearthly screech which was like demons -howling as howls the gray wolf before a storm. It raised the hair on -the scalp with that prickling sensation which is so extremely unpleasant, -and it sent Big Medicine, Cal, Jack Bates, and Irish clattering down the -coulee in the wake of Slim and Happy Jack.</p> - -<p>Andy Green held his horse and Miguel’s back from following, and -watched them out of sight before he rode closer to the awful thing which -guarded the door.</p> - -<p>“All right, boys—yuh may as well stop the concert; the audience is -halfway home by this time,” he called out, chuckling as he dismounted -and went clanking up to the doorway. “Say, by gracious, yuh done fine! -That last screech was sure a pippin—it like to have stampeded <em>me</em>.”</p> - -<p>Pink disentangled his fingers from a fine bit of string and grunted. “It -ought to be. We’ve been practicing that howl, off and on, for four -hours. How was the fiddling, Andy?”</p> - -<p>“Outa sight. Say, yuh better take them strings off the bow, and make -darned sure you ain’t having any tracks, or anything. Let ’em come back -and find everything just the way they fixed the plant—and then let ’em -put in their spare time figuring the thing out, if they can. They’ll -likely come moseying back up here, pretty soon—all but Happy and -Slim—so you want to hurry. If you two can beat us home, they’ll never -get wise in a thousand years of hard thinking.” He looked the ghost over -critically, gave a snort, and painstakingly straightened the bow. -“Darned grave robbers,” he exclaimed, looking at the skull. “Well, hike -boys; I hear ’em coming. Got the olives all right, Miguel? Come and get -on your horse. We’ll meet ’em down the trail a ways if we can. And say,” -he called over his shoulder, when he was beside his horse again, “you -fellows do some <em>going</em>! If you ain’t in bed when we get there, the -stuff’s off.” Even while he looked back, Pink and Weary dodged out and -vanished in the gloom of the willows.</p> - -<p>The Native Son, bearing in a gunny sack twelve bottles of stuffed -olives, and on his swarthy face an unstudied grin of elation, was just -making ready to mount when Irish and Big Medicine became recognizable in -the moonlight below.</p> - -<p>“We thought we’d come back and see if you were alive, anyway,” Irish -announced shamefacedly, with a glance toward the cabin and the spectral -figure in the doorway. “What did it do to yuh, Mig?”</p> - -<p>“Nothing, only caterwaul like the devil all the time I was getting the -olives. It’s shut up since I came out of the cabin. Seems like it hates -visitors.”</p> - -<p>“Er—did it—did the ghost make all that noise, honest?” Big Medicine’s -voice had lost some of its blatant assurance. He was bewildered, and he -showed it.</p> - -<p>“You heard him sawing on that fiddle, didn’t you? The screeching seemed -to come from—just all over the room.” Miguel waved his free hand -vaguely. “Just all over at once. Kinda got my goat, for a minute or -two.”</p> - -<p>The group rode slowly away, and when Miguel was through speaking they -went in silence. Halfway up the hill, Irish turned in the saddle and -stared down at the roof of the little cabin showing black under the -moon.</p> - -<p>“Well—I’ll—be—darned!” he stated slowly and emphatically, and rode -on with the others, who seemed to be thinking deeply.</p> - -<p>Their meditations must have been to some purpose, for, after a hasty -word or two snatched in private with his fellow conspirators, Irish set -the pace.</p> - -<p>At the stable he did not wait to unsaddle first of all. Instead he went -hurriedly inside, lighted a match, and held it up while he surveyed the -wall where the Happy Family were wont to hang their saddles—when they -hung them anywhere. Two familiar saddles dangled there, each hanging -upon its accustomed peg by its accustomed right stirrup, proclaiming -silently and unanswerably the fact of their owners’ presence upon the -ranch. When the match flickered and went out, Irish discovered that Cal, -Jack Bates, Big Medicine, and Happy Jack were standing behind him, -staring also.</p> - -<p>“Well—I’ll—be—darned!” said Irish again softly, and dropped the stub -with a gesture of keen disappointment.</p> - -<p>“It wasn’t them, then,” muttered Big Medicine at his shoulder. “And -the—the thing—it <em>played</em>, by cripes!”</p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GHOST OF ONE MAN COULEE ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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