‘What’s a ghost, Uncle Eb?’ I whispered.

‘Somethin’ like a swift,’ he answered, ’but not so powerful.  We heard a panther las’ night,’ he added, turning to our host.  ’Hollered like sin when he see the fire.’

‘Scairt!’ said the man o’ the house gaping.  ’That’s what ailed him.  I’ve lived twenty year on Paradise Road an’ it was all woods when I put up the cabin.  Seen deer on the doorstep an’ bears in the garden, an’ panthers in the fields.  But I tell ye there’s no critter so terrible as a man.  All the animals know ‘im — how he roars, an’ spits fire an’ smoke an’ lead so it goes through a body er bites off a leg, mebbe.  Guess they’d made friends with me but them I didn’t kill went away smarting with holes in ’em.  An’ I guess they told all their people ‘bout me — the terrible critter that walked on its hind legs an’ lied a white face an’ drew up an’ spit ’is teeth into their vitals ’cross a ten-acre lot.  An’ putty soon they concluded they didn’t want t’ hev no truck with me.  They thought thin clearin’ was the valley o’ death an’ they got very careful.  But the deer they kep’ peekin’ in at me.  Sumthin’ funny ’bout a deer — they’re so cu’rus.  Seem’s though they loved the look o’ me an’ the taste o’ the tame grass.  Mebbe God meant em t’ serve in the yoke some way an’ be the friend o’ man.  They’re the outcasts o’ the forest — the prey o’ the other animals an’ men like ’em only when they’re dead.  An’ they’re the purtiest critter alive an’ the spryest an’ the mos’ graceful.’

‘Men are the mos’ terrible of all critters, an’ the meanest,’ said Uncle Eb.  ‘They’re the only critters that kill fer fun.’

‘Bedtime,’ said our host, rising presently.  ‘Got t’ be up early ’n the morning.’

We climbed a ladder to the top floor of the cabin with the hired men, of whom there were two.  The good lady of the house had made a bed for us on the floor and I remember Fred came up the ladder too, and lay down beside us.  Uncle Eb was up with the men in the morning and at breakfast time my hostess came and woke me with kisses and helped me to dress.  When we were about going she brought a little wagon out of the cellar that had been a playing of her dead boy, and said I could have it.  This wonderful wagon was just the thing for the journey we were making.  When I held the little tongue in my hand I was half-way to heaven already.  It had four stout wheels and a beautiful red box.  Her brother had sent it all the way from New York and it had stood so long in the cellar it was now much in need of repair.  Uncle Eb took it to the tool shop in the stable and put it in shipshape order and made a little pair of thills to go in place of the tongue.  Then he made a big flat collar and a back-pad out of the leather in old boot-legs, and rigged a pair of tugs out of two pieces of rope.  Old Fred was quite cast down when he stood in harness between the shafts.

He had waited patiently to have his collar fitted; he had grinned and panted and wagged his tail with no suspicion of the serious and humiliating career he was entering upon.  Now he stood with a sober face and his aspect was full of meditation.