“A week is better than a day, so we can have time to think of our sins and get prepared for the event.  Come, let us return like men and face this white object, and see what kind of stuff it is made of.”

While I was urging Mr. Brown I did not have the faintest idea that he would accede to my request.  In fact, I rather hoped that he would not, for, in spite of my expressed doubts in relation to the ghost, I was more than half inclined to believe that there was something supernatural about it.  A desire to make my companion think that I was more reckless than himself prompted me to attempt to combat his fears.

While I was talking, Mr. Brown was changing his clothes, and getting a portion of the mud from his person by means of the contents of the water-keg, and when he had succeeded I think that his courage revived, for he asked me for the loan of my flask; and when I handed it to him, he lowered its contents materially, and then declared that he felt better than when he was up to his neck in mud.

“You say that you are anxious to return and have an interview with the old fellow with horns on his head?” Mr. Brown asked, and I observed a wonderful change in his bearing all at once, which I could only attribute to putting on clean clothes, or due to the magical influence of my flask.  I was inclined to the latter opinion, and therefore tasted the liquor for the purpose of seeing if I could not get a little Dutch courage.

“The fact of it is,” my friend continued, “I am inclined to think that we have been frightened at a shadow, and therefore I am in favor of returning to the island without delay.  No blasted ghost is to keep me from the treasure which was bequeathed to me in due form by its owner, and for which I paid him in candles, six to a pound.  How does the liquor hold out?”

I shook the flask, and found that almost half a pint remained.

“I think that a quantity of salt mud got in my mouth, for I have a bad taste which nothing but brandy can remove.  Let me have another spoonful, and then we will start with courage enough to face the devil.

“A man,” my companion exclaimed, throwing back his head and looking full at the moon, “should never depend upon liquor for courage, for in the moment of danger he wants all his self-possession.  I only make the remark,” he continued, as he handed me back the empty flask, “to warn you against drinking any thing of an intoxicating nature upon the eve of an important expedition.”

“Your advice is good,” I remarked, “and to help me carry it out you have drained the flask of its last drop.  The next time we go on an expedition, I wish that you would practise what you preach.”

“This is an ungrateful world,” Mr. Brown remarked, as he rose from the saddle upon which he had been seated, and steadied himself by holding on my shoulder.  “I have drank your liquor merely out of friendship, and now I am reproached for my kindness; I didn’t expect it.”