walked back agin, and once in a while I’d step into the shanty and take a pull at old Rye.  Well, seeing as how it agreed with me, and I begun to feel better, I kept making my walks longer and longer till I strolled to a considerable distance.  It was in one of them turns I see the ghost.  I supposed afore that ghosts always appeared in white, but this one didn’t.  He was dressed just like any other fisherman, in a dark grey jacket and trowsers and a tarpaulin.  It seemed to me at first he wanted to git out of the way, but I made tracks for him, for I didn’t then a bit mistrust about its being a sperit, and halloed out, ’Who’s that?’ The sperit, as soon as he heard me, came straight up, and then I noticed he had two fish dangling down by a string, and says he, in a sort o’ hoarse voice, as if he’d caught cold lying in the ground, ‘It’s me; it’s the ghost of Jimmy Lanfear.’  Well, when I heard him speak so, my flesh began to kind o’ crawl, though I didn’t know but it might be some fellow who had stole the shad out of the shanty, for I never heard of ghosts carrying fish afore.  So says I, ’What are you doing with them fish?’ Then, says he, ’Them ain’t any real fish; see if you can touch ’em.’  And then he swung ’em round and round in the moonlight, and I did my best to catch ’em, but I might just as well have snatched at the moonshine, for my hands went right through ’em agin and agin, till I stubbed my toe, and fell somehow, and when I got up, the sperit was gone.  Then I knew it was Jim Lanfear’s sperit, who was murdered years ago right opposite the spot where I asked you, Prime, if you knew where you was; and I was sartin the luck was all up for that season, and sure enough it was, for we didn’t make more’n two or three hauls more of any consequence.”

“I am sure dere was one sperit dere,” said Primus, in a musing way, and shaking his head.

“Now, Prime, what do you mean by bobbing up and down your wool?  Do you intend to signify, you unbelieving old scamp, you doubt my word?  I tell you I was no more corned than I am now.  Why, if you want to, you can see Jim almost any dark night.  Perhaps he’s walking along shore now.”

“What dat?” cried Primus, pretending to see something on the land.

Basset started, and strained his eyes through the darkness in the direction indicated, but could discover nothing.  The vision of Primus and Gladding was better.

“Don’t ye see someting,” said the former, lowering his voice, “right under de bank.  I can’t just see de shape, but it seem as if it swim in de air widout legs.  You eyes is younger, Missa Gladding; guess dey see furder dan mine.”

“I can make him out now,” whispered Gladding.  “It’s a man, sure as rates Golly!” he exclaimed, suddenly, “if it ain’t Jim—­look, Basset, look.”

The constable had listened in an agony of terror to the colloquy, and at the exclamation of Primus, availing himself of his post as steersman, turned the bow of the boat towards the opposite shore, to place as great an interval as possible between himself and the spectre.  The action had not passed unnoticed, though neither of his companions made any remark upon it.  Repeatedly his head had flown round over his shoulder, to catch a glimpse of what he dredded to see, but, notwithstanding the excitement of his imagination, he could behold nothing.