The Best Ballantyne Westerns. R. M. Ballantyne

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      “‘Agreed!’ cried the doctor, laughing; ‘I give you my word of honour. Now he has been buried three days already, so we must set about it at once. Fortunately the graveyard is composed of a sandy soil, so he’ll keep for some time yet.’

      “The two worthies then entered into a deep consultation as to how they were to set about this deed of darkness. It was arranged that Wilson should take his gun and sally forth a little before dark, as if he were bent on an hour’s sport, and, not forgetting his game-bag, proceed to the graveyard, where the doctor engaged to meet him with a couple of spades and a dark lantern. Accordingly, next evening, Mr Wilson, true to his promise, shouldered his gun and sallied forth.

      “It soon became an intensely dark night. Not a single star shone forth to illumine the track along which he stumbled. Everything around was silent and dark, and congenial with the work on which he was bent. But Wilson’s heart beat a little more rapidly than usual. He is a bold enough man, as you know, but boldness goes for nothing when superstition comes into play. However, he trudged along fearlessly enough till he came to the thick woods just below the fort, into which he entered with something of a qualm. Scarcely had he set foot on the narrow track that leads to the graveyard, when he ran slap against the post that stands there, but which, in his trepidation, he had entirely forgotten. This quite upset the small amount of courage that remained, and he has since confessed that if he had not had the hope of meeting with the doctor in a few minutes, he would have turned round and fled at that moment.

      “Recovering a little from this accident, he hurried forward, but with more caution; for although the night seemed as dark as could possibly be while he was crossing the open country, it became speedily evident that there were several shades of darkness which he had not yet conceived. In a few minutes he came to the creek that runs past the graveyard, and here again his nerves got another shake; for slipping his foot while in the act of commencing the descent, he fell and rolled heavily to the bottom, making noise enough in his fall to scare away all the ghosts in the country. With a palpitating heart poor Wilson gathered himself up, and searched for his gun, which fortunately had not been injured, and then commenced to climb the opposite bank, starting at every twig that snapped under his feet. On reaching the level ground again he breathed a little more freely, and hurried forward with more speed than caution. Suddenly he came into violent contact with a figure, which uttered a loud growl as Wilson reeled backwards.

      “‘Back, you monster,’ he cried, with a hysterical yell, ‘or I’ll blow your brains out!’

      “‘It’s little good that would do ye,’ cried the doctor, as he came forward. ‘Why, you stupid, what did you take me for? You’ve nearly knocked out my brains as it is,’ and the doctor rubbed his forehead ruefully.

      “‘Oh, it’s you, doctor!’ said Wilson, feeling as if a ton weight had been lifted off his heart; ‘I verily thought it was the ghost of the poor fellow we’re going to disturb. I do think you had better give it up. Mischief will come of it, you’ll see.’

      “‘Nonsense,’ cried the doctor; ‘don’t be a goose, but let’s to work at once. Why, I’ve got half the thing dug up already.’ So saying, he led the way to the grave, in which there was a large opening. Setting the lantern down by the side of it, the two seized their spades and began to dig as if in earnest.

      “The fact is that the doctor was nearly as frightened as Wilson, and he afterwards confessed to me that it was an immense relief to him when he heard him fall down the bank of the creek, and knew by the growl he gave that it was he.

      “In about half an hour the doctor’s spade struck upon the coffin lid, which gave forth a hollow sound.

      “‘Now, then, we’re about done with it,’ said he, standing up to wipe away the perspiration that trickled down his face. ‘Take the axe and force up the lid, it’s only fixed with common nails, while I—’ He did not finish the sentence, but drew a large scalping-knife from a sheath which hung at his belt.

      “Wilson shuddered and obeyed. A good wrench caused the lid to start, and while he held it partially open the doctor inserted the knife. For five minutes he continued to twist and work with his arms, muttering between his teeth, every now and then, that he was a ‘tough subject,’ while the crackling of bones, and other disagreeable sounds, struck upon the horrified ears of his companion.

      “‘All right,’ he exclaimed at last, as he dragged a round object from the coffin and let down the lid with a bang, at the same time placing the savage’s head with its ghastly features full in the blaze of the lantern.

      “‘Now, then, close up,’ said he, jumping out of the hole and shovelling in the earth.

      “In a few minutes they had filled the grave up and smoothed it down on the surface, and then, throwing the head into the game-bag, retraced their steps to the fort. Their nerves were by this time worked up to such a pitch of excitement, and their minds filled with such a degree of supernatural horror, that they tripped and stumbled over stumps and branches innumerable in their double-quick march. Neither would confess to the other, however, that he was afraid. They even attempted to pass a few facetious remarks as they hurried along, but it would not do, so they relapsed into silence till they came to the hollow beside the powder-magazine. Here the doctor’s foot happening to slip, he suddenly grasped Wilson by the shoulder to support himself—a movement which, being unexpected, made his friend leap, as he afterwards expressed it, nearly out of his skin. This was almost too much for them. For a moment they looked at each other as well as the darkness would permit, when all at once a large stone, which the doctor’s slip had overbalanced, fell down the bank and through the bushes with a loud crash. Nothing more was wanting. All further effort to disguise their feelings was dropped. Leaping the rail of the open field in a twinkling, they gave a simultaneous yell of consternation, and fled to the fort like autumn leaves before the wind, never drawing breath till they were safe within the pickets.”

      “But what has all this to do with Peterkin?” asked Harry, as the accountant paused to relight his pipe and toss a fresh log on the fire.

      “Have patience, lad; you shall hear.”

      The accountant stirred the logs with his toe, drew a few whiffs to see that the pipe was properly ignited, and proceeded.

      “For a day or two after this, the doctor was observed to be often mysteriously engaged in an outhouse of which he kept the key. By some means or other, the skipper, who is always up to mischief, managed to discover the secret. Watching where the doctor hid the key, he possessed himself of it one day, and sallied forth, bent on a lark of some kind or other, but without very well knowing what. Passing the kitchen, he observed Anderson, the butler, raking the fire out of the large oven which stands in the back-yard.

      “‘Baking again, Anderson?’ said he in passing. ‘You get soon through with a heavy cargo of bread just now.’

      “‘Yes, sir; many mouths to feed, sir,’ replied the butler, proceeding with his work.

      “The skipper sauntered on, and took the track which leads to the boat-house, where he stood for some time in meditation. Casting up his eyes, he saw Peterkin in the distance, looking as if he didn’t very well know what to do.

      “A sudden thought struck him. Pulling off his coat, he seized a mallet and a caulking-chisel, and began to belabour the side of a boat as if his life depended on it. All at once he stopped and stood up, blowing with the exertion.

      “‘Hollo, Peterkin!’ he shouted, and waved his hand.

      “Peterkin hastened towards him.

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