THE GHOST AGAIN.

JOHNNIE and Davey watched the retreating boat in its noiseless progress until it was lost to sight in the darkness. Then they moved back from the stone platform into the low entrance of the cave, and, from the inside, rolled up two or three pieces of rock, till every sign of an opening in the cliff was gone.

Then carrying the captain's lantern with one hand, and holding Davey's arm with the other, Johnnie, with his companion, walked back to the big cave, where they found the fire replenished and Ben very busy getting ready a meal, though whether it was to serve as supper or breakfast was not quite clear. But, happily, that did not matter.

A good long sleep refreshed Davey, and after dinner on the following day, he helped Johnnie and Ben to wash the rock floor and sprinkle clean dry sand on it, after which he lent a hand in various little jobs.

But as it got dark, and Ben was thinking about filling up the entrance nearest to Hoyle's Mouth in the wood, Johnnie said—

"Before we roll up that rock, I'd like just to go with you, Davey, to the cave where you and Tom used to sleep, and where you saw the ghost. I haven't been there for a long while, and I wonder if things are just as they used to be."

"I wouldn't go if I was you, Johnnie," said Ben, with a significant emphasis in his looks and his words. "It can't do no good, whatever happens. Don't go!"

But Johnnie seemed to have a strange longing to go, and Ben, after once more trying to dissuade him from it, at last ceased speaking.

So Johnnie lighted the lantern, and he and Davey set out, keeping their eyes and ears well open for fear of surprise, though, indeed, there was little chance of this. Pleasure-seekers and explorers never came after dusk, and as for the peasants in the neighbourhood, they avoided the vicinity of Hoyle's Mouth, never approaching it except under necessity, for fear of meeting the ghosts, whose horrible noises some of them had heard from time to time.

Carefully picking their way, Davey and Johnnie went slowly on, till they reached the narrow passage which led right into the great outer cave. Here Davey took the ring of the lantern between his teeth and crawled into and through the little corridor, followed by Johnnie.

But just as they were about to emerge, and get into a standing posture, Davey caught sight of a tall, black-draped form, that he recognised at a glance as the ghost of his supposed dream. As before, it was carrying a kind of torch, or flaming brand of wood, and it glided hither and thither, with the old chanting, monotonous cry, varied a little, but in substance the same.

"Woe to them! Woe to those who lead the young astray! The wrath of God shall overtake them! I seek, but I find not, him whom my soul loveth. Oh, my son! My son! The only son of his mother, and she was a widow."

On first perceiving the figure, Davey had closed the lantern, and now he remained perfectly still while the wandering ghost glided hither and thither, waving the torch, and peering into the dark corners and rocky cells, as though making diligent search.

"Do you see, Johnnie?" whispered Davey softly over his shoulder. "There it is again; it was no dream after all, was it?"

There came no answer from Johnnie, but a gasp and smothered groan, which made Davey wonder.

"Surely he isn't frightened!" he said to himself. "Why, even 'I'm' not that this time."

But suddenly there was a sound of footsteps, and of voices in the wood outside the cave.

"Tiresome old crittur!" said a woman's voice, in high-pitched, nasal tones. "She must have come to this dreadful place again! She's always running here, whenever we leave her alone for a couple of hours. Why, she ran away in the night a little while ago, and never got back till nigh upon two in the morning, and a fine state I was in about her, to be sure!"

"What on earth does she do it for?" asked a man's voice, as the couple paused on the threshold of the cave.

"Do it for? Why, she's mad, of course; perfectly stark, staring mad."

Upon the faces of the new-comers the fitful torchlight flickered redly, now and then, as they stood there, but the ghost seemed to take no notice of them.

"Come along, old gal!" shouted the woman. "You won't find nothing in that place. Such a hunt as I've had for you!"

The black figure turned a long, white face upon the speaker, and cried:

"But my son, my son!"

"All right, come with me and look for him! Maybe he's at the bottom of the hill, or p'raps he's gone home. One must humour her, or she'd stay here all night," added the woman aside to her companion. "Such a place as it is too! And the noise, they do say, is dreadful sometimes, when the ghosts go to work. Ah, now she's coming! Come along then, Liza, there's a good soul. Come home along of old 'Tilda."

The tall figure glided to the threshold of the cave, where a hand took from her the torch. The woman went on one side of the poor mad creature, the man on the other, and Davey heard the woman say—

"I'm sure I'm much obligated to you for coming with me to look for her, Mat Barnes, for I dursn't come here by myself, and my husband (the brother of this poor crittur here) is ill in bed to-day."

Then the three moved slowly off together down the wooded hill.

But Davey, as he scrambled out of the low passage, and made his way to the opening of the cave, heard once more the mournful, haunting cry borne on the wind, that rustled the drying leaves of the trees in the wood,—

"Woe to them! Woe!"

"Oh, Ben, to think of me seeing my ghost again!" said Davey, when he and Johnnie found their way back into the warm, bright cave where Ben was sitting.

"No, did you, my boy?" replied Ben, speaking to Davey, but looking beyond at Johnnie, who stood near the fire.

"Yes, Ben," Davey went on, "and a man and a woman came to the mouth of the cave to look for the ghost, and the woman called it Old Gal, and said it was her husband's sister, and quite mad. So you can see it's only a woman, after all, and now I'm sure there's no such things as ghosts. Some turn out to be smugglers, and some are mad people, but the real ghost isn't to be found, and—"

Here Davey paused and glanced at Johnnie. The young man turned and showed a ghastly face.

"What is it, Johnnie? Are you ill?" cried the boy anxiously, for Johnnie and he had already come to be good friends, and the sight of that suffering face was painful to him. "Oh, Ben, do look at Johnnie!"

But by this time, Johnnie had covered his face with his hands, and was crying as though his heart would break.

"Oh, my poor dear! My poor old dear," he sobbed; "and my hands are tied and I can do nothing for you! God Almighty, help and comfort my poor, poor dear!"