house with his bundles.

"Wow! Stop it, cuss ye," yelled Bud, as Carl came out of the cabin.

"I ain't didding noding," said Carl, backing away as Bud rushed upon him.

"Yer did, yer fat galoot. Yer pulled my hair 'most out by ther roots."

"I ain't pulling no hairs," Carl persisted.

"Then who done it? Yer ther only person what I can see. It's a cinch some one pulled my hair."

"Say, Pud."

"What?"

"Let us camp outside."

"What, an' freeze ter death before mornin'? Nixy. Not fer me."

"Ain't you heard about der shack?"

"No, I ain't, an' I don't want ter. What I'm after now is ther galoot what got our hats an' pulled my hair."

"Ain't you heard about der ghost?"

"Ghost!"

Bud was staring at Carl with his jaw dropped.

"Yah. Dis is a ghost haus, filled mit ghostesses."

"Don't you go making any monkey talks at me. There ain't no sich things as ghosts. That'll do fer ter frighten kids with, but not fer me."

"Den who tooken our hats, und who your golden locks pulled?"

"That's so. Who took them? Tell me, who put all thet dope about this bein' a haunted house in ther shell what yer calls yer head?"

"Bill Simms, der cow-puncher vot we picked up on der drive, informationed me about it. He says a man was kilt in dis shack, und dot he valks aroundt mit it ven der night cooms."

"That Bill Simms is ther worst liar in forty States. He tried ter fill me with wild dreams about a feller what rides ther line on this yere ranch what can stand havin' ther contents o' a six-shooter pumped inter him, an' it don't feaze him none."

"Yah. Dot's der ghostes vot runs dis shack. I don'd vant ter stay here, Pud. Please let us camp out in der snow."

"Why, yer doodle, can't ther ghost come out yere jest ez easy ez he kin' go inter ther house—that is, if he's a sure-enough ghost?"

"Yah, I guess he can. Vat vill ve didding?"

"I don't care what you do, but I'm goin' inter ther shack ter start up ther fire an' get warm. I don't care what you do, but I'm 'most froze."

"Don't leaf me alone, dear Pud. Please, I imploring you."

"Come on, then."

Bud stepped inside, and, as he did so, he uttered an exclamation of surprise.

Both the purloined hats lay in the middle of the floor.

"There, didn't I told you?" exclaimed Carl, in an awed voice.

Bud simply stared at the hats.

"Nopody but a ghostes could haf did dat."

Bud looked around the room, and then up at the ceiling.

Then he burst into a roar of laughter.

"Thar's ther ghost," he shouted, grasping Carl by the arm and twisting him around so that he could see.

In the corner just below the ceiling were two sharp, green points of light that glowed in the faint radiance cast by the fire, which had sunk to embers.

"Ach, mutter, save your liddle Carl. It vor der ghostes."

"That ain't no ghost," said Bud scornfully. "Ain't you never hear tell how ghosts look? They're all white an' long an' skinny, an' when they walk they carry chains what clanks, an'——"

"Oh, Pud, stop. Don't say it some more. My plood vas chilling now so I ain't aple to svallow in my troat alretty. I vas so scared as nefer vas I."

"Yer a cheerful roommate, I must say. See, ther ghost is gone."

"I ain't nefer goin' ter be happy some more. I haf seen a ghost. I vill die, I am sure."

"Yer kin bet on that ez a shore thing, an' I reckon I will, too."

"Listen!" Carl grasped Bud by the arm with the clutch of despair.

There was a faint and stealthy noise on the roof.

Both stood for a few moments listening breathlessly.

Then they heard a faint, far-away wail, like that of a banshee.

Carl threw his arms around Bud in an agony of fear.

"Dere it iss. Ve are gone. All iss lost."

Again the gruesome wail came to them, this time louder and clearer, and in a moment or two a hand was at the door. The latch clicked softly, and the door swung slowly open.

CHAPTER IV.

THE BIG COON TREE.

"Hello, what's the matter with you fellows? Are you going to have a waltz, or is it going to be a two-step, or a catch-as-catch-can wrestling match? Perhaps you've suddenly grown very fond of one another."

It was Ted who spoke, standing in the doorway, laughing as if he would burst his buttons off, at the strange tableau in the middle of the floor, Carl clinging to Bud, who was trying to shake him off.

"Let loose o' me," shouted Bud. "Why, ther feller's plumb daffy on ghosts. He says as how this shack is haunted, an' he's plumb loco."

"Yah. Didn't we just hear der ghostes yell mit der outside?" said Carl, who had been thrust away from his clutch on Bud, and was standing in the middle of the floor, trembling like one with the ague.

"Ha, ha!" laughed Ted. "Ghost, eh? It was me calling to the cattle, and sending them back from the line."

"Yah, aber I seen mit mine own eyes der green ones oof der ghost up in dot corner, und heart him on der roof."

"Come outside, and I'll show you the footprints of the ghost," said Ted, leading the way.

Out in the snow by the side of the cabin Ted showed them several tracks, something like a small hand, which ended at the wall of the cabin.

"That's where the ghost went up," said Ted. "Let's climb the wall, and see what is on the roof."

It was easy climbing up the log wall, for there were plenty of footholds.

When they were high enough to look over the edge of the roof, Bud gave an exclamation of surprise, and then burst out laughing, in which Ted joined.

But Carl could not see the joke.

"It's a vild cat," he shouted, scrambling to the ground.

"It ain't, neither," asseverated Bud. "It's a bully little ole pet coon. That's what it is."

He held out his hand, and the coon, making a queer little chuckling noise, came slowly toward him as he held out his finger, which the sharp-eyed little beast clasped in its fingerlike paw and pulled.

Bud reached out, tucked it under his arm, and climbed down with it.

"This yere coon was a pet ter ther fellers what rid line yere before," said Bud, when they were in the cabin again. "He's been hangin' eround ever since, an' when he saw us he thought it wuz his ole pardners come back. He's been taught ter swipe hats an' drop 'em down inter ther house through ther chimbley hole. That accounts fer it, an' I reckon he's ther whole ghost."

"Yah, mebbe I dinks so," said Carl, who looked rather sheepish at his exhibition of fear.

"He's a smart little piece," said Ted. "By the way, Carl, get busy with the pots and pans. I'm going to stay to supper and sleep here to-night. I've got the cattle and the boys planted, and it is too far to go on to the ranch house to-night. Stella and Kit went back an hour ago."

Carl went to work to cook supper, while Bud played with the coon, which was as full of tricks as a monkey, and kept the boys laughing all the time.

"A coon is a mighty smart animile," said Bud as they sat down to supper.

"So I've heard," said Ted. "But I've never seen many of them."

"Dere is no such beast in Chermany," Carl put in proudly.

"That's so," said Bud. "Ameriky is the land o' ther free, an' ther home o' ther coon. Never went coon huntin', did yer, Ted?"

"I never did."

"Well, ye've missed some mighty good fun. Down in Missouri is whar ther coon grows wild an' independent, an' ther ain't one o' them what's come o' age what ain't as smart as ary congressman you ever see."

"I've heard something about coon hunting," said Ted.

"It's great down in Missouri. Thar's whar ther coon trees grow."

"Vat such foolishment for?" said Carl, with a sneer. "Coons don't grow mit trees on."

"Nobody said they could, but they live in trees, yer loony. A ole gum tree what's holler is ther home o' ther coon. Thar's whar ther best coon dogs come from,