Brown followed my advice, and when he saw that there was a certain prospect of being saved he grew quite calm, and soon I had the satisfaction of reaching out my hand, grasping one of his own, and dragging him upon the peninsula, a little the worse for his contact with the bog, but cheerful, and disposed to regard his adventure in the light of a joke.

“My dear friend,” he exclaimed, clasping my hand, and I thought he was about to pour forth a profusion of thanks for my services, “let me advise you to put your trousers on as soon as possible, for these blasted mosquitoes will devour you alive.”

I think that his recommendation was the best evidence of his attachment that I could possibly have desired, for I had been so inwrapt with the business before me that I had not heeded the cloud of ferocious insects hovering around my naked extremities, filling their bodies with my life blood, and causing me to almost desire a bath in the bog, for the purpose of getting rid of my tormentors.

I hurried on my clothes without loss of time, and then desired to know in what manner I could help him.

“Let me get away from this place first, and then secure a wash, and a change of clothing, for I feel as though I had been fished out of a molasses hogshead,” Mr. Brown said, scraping the mud from his shirt and pants, and even taking it from his pockets by handfuls.

“What made you run in the manner that you did?” he asked, as I assisted him to rise.

“I but followed your example, and I begin to think that I followed a very poor one,” I replied.

“I am of the same opinion, for I don’t believe that we saw any thing excepting a ram anxious for a hunting match.  Let us return.”

As my friend ceased speaking we glanced at the island, and that one look was sufficient to start us towards the main land in double quick time, for, standing at the end of the peninsula, with one arm raised in a threatening manner, as though warning us against a renewed attempt for the treasure, was the white figure which had first frightened us.

“That is Buckerly’s ghost,” gasped Mr. Brown, as we gained the palm trees under which the horses were hitched; “I know it is his spirit, from the many descriptions which I have heard concerning it.”

“What do you propose to do?” I asked, beginning, now that I was some distance from the object of my terror, to entertain serious doubts in relation to the spirituality of the visitant.

“Do?” repeated Mr. Brown, “what can we do against a ghost?”

“We can at least find out what claims it has upon the treasure, and whether it requires a fair dividend in case we are successful.  Come, change your clothes, and let us return and question this wonderful visitant.”

“Would you dare to speak first?” demanded Mr. Brown, in astonishment.  “Don’t you know, or have you not read, that the person who holds conversation with a ghost dies within a week?”