Ghosts

“Hey, what are you waiting for?” Lang called sharply.

“These kids want their arms loose,” the guardian answered.

“Tell ’em to slide with their heels—”

“I won’t. I gotta get over, haven’t I!” The fellow’s teeth chattered and the weapon he held wavered in his trembling hand.

“Send one along. I’ll meet him,” Mills decided.

“All right, get on, if you kick that thing I’m goin’ ter pump you full of lead, and your buddy too, see.” The man poked his white face into Jim’s.

“Surely, it’s quite clear.” Jim stepped forward, straddled the log, inched himself along with the greatest care, but his heart was in his throat as bits were knocked off. He had gone almost half the distance when he saw Mills throw himself full length from the other side, and stretch out his hands.

“Bend forward.” Jim did and Mills clutched his collar firmly, then wriggled back. Half an hour later Bob was over safely, but when he stood up a great hunk of the log fell away.

“Listen,” he cried, “that will never hold another man, and that chap over there is scared stiff. Loosen my arms, or Jim’s, then we can get him with the lariat and if he starts to fall, haul him up. He’ll never make it—he’s heavier than we are.”

“Wait up, over there,” Lang shouted.

“What for?” he snarled suspiciously. “I aint hanging round here.”

“Wait up till we get a rope—” Just then a strange wailing sound came from behind the man and he glanced fearfully over his shoulder. Mills had started to remove Bob’s rope, but his fingers were clumsy and he fumbled nervously.

“Hold that light closer,” he growled to the chap who had the flash. The rays were directed on the knot while the rest stood impatiently watching, and after a moment one of the men laughed; it sounded like a cackle.

“Those kids—”

“What you waiting for?” called the man across the gully.

“Keep your shirt on, we’re going to 

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