" The little Bunkers had
heard of "ghosts"; but they looked on such things as being like
fairies--something to half-believe in, and shiver about, all the time
knowing that they were not real.
So Russ and Rose had no actual fear of haunts when they started down the
cart-path toward the wide brook where Russ had had his first adventure
catching the big fish.
The colored folks were all at home in their quarters; and although it
was a starlight night they were having no celebration. Everything about
the plantation seemed particularly quiet. And no sounds at first came to
the ears of the brother and sister from the forest.
As they approached the place for which they aimed however there came
suddenly a mournful screech from the woods--a sound that seemed to
linger longer in their hearing than any strange noise Russ and Rose had
ever heard. The brother and sister stopped, frightened indeed, and clung
to each other.
"Oh! What's that?" murmured Rose.
"It--it's maybe an owl," returned Russ, trying to think of the most
harmless creature that made a noise at night.
"I never heard an owl howl like that," whispered his sister.
"Aw, Rose! owls don't howl. It's wolves that howl--or coyotes such as we
saw at Cowboy Jack's. Don't you remember the coyote caught in the trap
that you thought was a dog?"
Rose's mind would not be drawn from the thing in question.
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