CHAPTER XXIII THE PASSING OF THE GHOST
The night following the capture of Daego's pit-pans, Johnny's ghostbehaved very strangely. On this night, as on many other nights, Pantcrossed the river to discover, if possible, some further detailsregarding Daego's plans and to ascertain more accurately the strength ofhis forces. Their quota of logs would soon be filled. They must then makeup their raft within the boom. This must be towed down the river. WouldDaego, with his depleted forces, dare attempt to take over the campbefore that time came? Once the logs were afloat, would he manage in someway to break the boom? These were vital questions.
On this particular night Pant did not join Daego's men. Instead, he hidin a low clump of palms; close enough to catch the conversation of onesmall group.
"Reckon ole ghost walks agin to-night?" said one.
"Yea, bo! He'll walk."
"'Tain't' no harm come to us, not yet."
"You all hain't sayin' 't'ain't goin' t' happen?"
"Hain't sayin' nothin'."
"Oh, look ayonder. There it are."
Sure enough, there was the ghost. With his waving gown all gleamingyellow with light, his shining red eyes, his dark face and his lugubriousrattle accompanied now and then by a piercing wail, Johnny's ghost seemedmore fearsome than before.
The chicleros grew suddenly silent. Even the sighing palms ceased to sighand the last scream of a parrot died a sudden death.
It was an awesome moment. In that moment a strange thing happened.Instead of hovering there above the palms, the ghost began to rise. As herose the dull rattle, as of bones in a coffin, increased in volume, andthe wail, high-pitched and terrifying, rose to a piercing scream.
Then, more terrible than all, as he rose higher and higher, his red eyesgrew dimmer, his glowing robes melted into the floating clouds, hisscream sounded fainter and fainter.
"Oh, my Massa!" groaned the black man who but a moment before hadprofessed little fear of the ghost. "Oh, my Massa!" he wailed, rolling onthe ground in his agony of fear. "Oh, my Massa, he's gone! It's his lastwarnin'. He's gone up. Now death and disaster sure do come!"
As if in proof of this, there came from far in the distance the dull rollof thunder.
As for Pant, he hastened to his dugout and paddled rapidly across theriver. His mind was in a whirl. What had happened? He wanted to know,needed to know, badly indeed. Not so badly, however, but that he had timeto pause and listen as the dip-dip of paddles sounded over the hushedwaters of Rio Hondo. As he waited and watched black streaks passed downthe river.
"Three of them," he exulted. "That last trick was best of all. Three boatloads. Must have carried ten men each."
As he came near the cabin that had been Johnny's office, and in which somany strange doings had come off of late, he spied a dim light there.
On looking in he saw a single candle burning on a work bench. Slumpeddown in a rude chair made of packing boxes, was old Hardgrave.
At first the boy thought him asleep, but upon hearing footsteps the oldman stirred, then looked up.
"It's you, Pant," he said slowly. "So it's only you."
Then of a sudden, sitting straight up, as if recalling bad news, hegroaned:
"Pant, he's gone!"
"Who's gone?"
"The ghost--Johnny's ghost is gone. Left us tonight. Left us cold."
Pant stared at the old man for a moment. "Can it be," he thought tohimself, "that the mere mechanical creation can seem to its creator totake on real life and a personality?"
To Hardgrave he said quietly: "I saw him go. It was weird, I can tellyou. And I shouldn't take his going too much to heart. Fully thirty ofDaego's men went down the river just now. This last was too much fortheir superstitious minds."
"Thirty! Did you say thirty?"
"Fully that many."
"Then, Pant," the old man sprang to his feet. "We'll beat 'em yet, Pant.We'll fight! We'll fight!"
"Of course we will," said Pant.