“I woke up-----”

“That makes four times you woke up,” laughed Ned.  “You must, indeed, have had a restless night.”

“I woke up-----”

“What again?”

“You wouldn’t laugh if you’d seen what I saw” retorted the fat boy, with serious face.  “There, right at the entrance of the tent, was a ghost!”

“What kind of a ghost?” asked Dad.

“Just a ghost-ghost.  It was all white and shiny and—–­br-r-r-r!” shivered the boy.  “It grinning.  I could see right through it!”

“You must be an X-ray machine,” declared Tad, chuckling.

“It didn’t need anything of that sort.  He was so shimmery that you could see right through him.”

“What became of the spook?  Did he fly up?” asked the guide.

“No, the spook just spooked,” replied Stacy.

“How do you mean?” questioned Professor Zepplin.

“He thawed out like a snowball, just melted away when I yelled.”

“Very thrilling, very thrilling.  Most remarkable.  A matter for scientific investigation,” muttered the Professor, but whether he were in earnest or not the boys could not gather from his expressionless countenance.

“What did Chunky have for supper?” asked Walter.

“What didn’t he have?” scoffed the guide.  “We have to eat fast or we wouldn’t get enough to keep up our strength.”

“I guess I don’t get any more than my share,” retorted Stacy.  “I have to work for that, too.”

“Well, I’m going to bed,” announced Ned Rector.  “You fellows may sit up here and tell ghost stories all the rest of the night if you want to.  It’s me for the feathers.”

“You’re right, Ned,” agreed Tad.  “We are a lot of silly boys to be so upset over a fellow who has had a crazy nightmare.  Professor, don’t you think you ought to give Stacy some medicine?”

“Yes, give him something to make him sleep,” chuckled Walter.

The boy was interrupted by a roar from Ned Rector’s tent.  Ned was shouting angrily.  He burst out into the circle of light shed by the camp fire, waving his hands above his head.

“They’ve got mine, they’ve got mine!” he yelled, dancing about with a very good imitation of the ghost dance so recently executed by the fat boy.

“Got what?” demanded Dad sternly, striding forward.

“Somebody’s stolen my rifle.   The spook’s robbed me.   It’s gone and
all my cartridges and my revolver and-----”

The camp was in an uproar instantly.  Chunky was nodding with satisfaction.

“It wasn’t stolen.  The spook just spooked it, that’s all,” he declared convincingly.

“But you must be in error, Ned,” cried the Professor.

“I’m not.  It’s gone.  I left it beside my bed.  It isn’t there now.  I tell you somebody’s been in this camp and robbed me!”

A sudden silence settled over the camp.  The boys looked into each other’s faces questioningly.  Was this another mystery of the Bright Angel Gulch?  They could not understand.