"Maybe upon the judgment day; When all sinners their debt must pay; They'll find me and bind me and judge poor me; All in my grave, on the lone prair-e-e-e-e-e-e!"

As the last words of this dismal chant rang out, an echo seemed to be flung back at the singer from behind a neighboring ridge, upon which the lone yuccas stood upright, like, so many figures of formed bits of humanity.

"Ye-e-e-e-e-e-e!"

It came in a long drawn out wail that fairly seemed to make the desert ring with its gruesome echoes. All at once it was taken up from another point. Then another echoed it back. It seemed to be proceeding from a dozen quarters of the compa.s.s at once.

Strong nerved as all three of the riders were, it appeared to make a strange impression on them.

"What in the name of Kit Carson wuz that?" demanded Red Bill drawing rein.

"Dunno. It sounded like someone havin' fun with that ther cheerful little song of yourn," said the black-mustached man.

"That's what it did. I'd like to find the varmint. I'd make some fun fer him."

The man scowled savagely. His nerves had been unpleasantly shaken by the wild, unearthly cries.

"It didn't sound human," he said at length; "tell you what, let's jes' look aroun' and see if we kin find any trace of who done it."

Buck Bellew said nothing but he grinned to himself. Plainly something amused him hugely.

"All right;" he said, "we'll look."

They rode about among the desert dips and gullies for some time, but they could discover no trace of any agency that could have produced the weird cries. Both Red Bill and the black-mustached man were plainly nonplussed.

"This beats all," opined Summers. "I don't even see a track any place."

"Nor don't I," rejoined his companion seriously. Both were superst.i.tious men, a failing apparently not shared by Bellew, who stood regarding them, seated easily sideways in his saddle, with an amused look.

"Hey Bellew, why don't you come an' look. You alters wuz a good tracker?" demanded Red Bill looking up suddenly.

"Not fer me, thanks," was the easy response, "ef you want to hunt spooks--"

"Who said it wuz a spook or any such pack uv nonsense?" glared back Summers.

"I didn't," declared the black-mustached man with great positiveness.

"No more did I," angrily sputtered Red Bill "thar ain't no such things nohow."

"I dunno," said the black-mustached man seriously. "I do recollec'

hearing my old grandmother, back East, tell about a ghost what she seen once. Want ter hear about it?"

No one replied, and taking silence for consent, he went on.

"Grandmother was married to a decent old chap that was a teamster.

He used to haul farm stuff to the city in the day and it was often pretty late afore he got out again. Well, on his way he had to pa.s.s a cemetery, a buryin' ground you know, and I tell you he didn't like it. It sort of got on his nerves to think that some night one of them dead folks lying there all so quiet might arise from ther graves.

"It seems as how it allers haunted him ter think that some night as he wuz drivin' by that ther buryin' ground--"

"Yer said that once before," snapped Summers looking nervously about him, "get on with your story."

"Well I am, ain't I?"

"Not fast enough."

"Waal this is a ghost story and ghosts don't move fast."

"Ho! ho!" laughed Bellew hollowly.

"As I was sayin', grandpop didn't like the idee of some night seeing a tall form, all in white, come gliding down among them tombstones, and raising its hand cry to him in a solemn voice--"

"Wow."

The shout came from Summers. He had suddenly felt something light on his shoulder. Thence it had crawled to neck and laid clammy feet upon him. It was an immense dragon fly, but he had evidently mistaken it for something else, to judge by the start and exclamation he had given.

"Ain't gittin' on yer nerves, be I?" asked the black-mustached man innocently.

"No, no. Get on with your fool story for goodness sake."

"You wuz a sayin' thet your fool grandpop wuz supposin' that ef something said to him as he wuz-oh, go on and tell it yourself!"

"All right. Well then grandpop was jes' a thinkin' how awful it 'ud be ef anything like that ever did happen. He'd come home and talk to grandma'am at nights about it. I tell you his nerves was powerful upsot. Suthin' like yours."

"Like mine, you long-legged lizard!"

"I mean like yours might hev bin ef you'd bin in my grandpop's place, Red."

"Oh, all right. Perceed. What nex'?"

"Waal, one night jes what he'd bin a dreadin' did come ter pa.s.s. He was goin' by ther graveyard when he hearn the awfulest screech you ever hearn--"

"Yow-e-ow-ee-ow-ow!"

Red Bill Summers started and turned pale. It was a repet.i.tion of the cry that had interrupted his song. Without wasting time on ceremonies, he dug his spurs into his horse and dashed off. The narrator of the ghost story, as badly scared as his companion, followed him at post haste. Ther Bellew laughing heartily, turned and followed them. But at a more leisurely speed. From time to time, as he pursued the flying forms, his big frame shook with mirth. Somebody once said that a man who gives a hearty laugh was not all bad. If this is true, there must have been considerable good in Buck Bellew.

After about a mile of riding he overtook the other two.

"What's the hurry?" he inquired easily.

"Nuthin', nuthin'," said Summers, still a bit shaky, "my pony scairt at suthin, I reckon, and jes' naturally dashed off. I had a hard job te pull the cayuse in."

"Same hyar, same hyar," said the black-mustached man.

"Rot!" laughed Bellew. "In my opinion, you're both a pair of cowards. Don't pull your gun on me, Summers. You wouldn't fire at me, and you know it."

Summers sullenly put up his gun.

"Say, what's ther matter with you, Buck?" he asked grumpily.