174 THE LOG OF A TIMBER CRUISER 
ing embers, toward the figure that, still approached 
with its horrible, rhythmic glide. 
Frazer leapt suddenly to his feet. His revolver 
glinted as he threw it into line. 
“‘Stop, or I’ll shoot!’’ he cried, loudly. Through 
his voice ran an odd quaver. 
But the figure in white glided slowly nearer. 
I heard a crashing of branches and the thud of 
feet on soft ground. Frazer was alone by the fire, 
the others gone. Hesitating no longer, he fired three 
quick shots in the general direction of the phantom. 
A yell came from the sheeted figure, hitherto as 
silent as death. 
‘‘What’n hell are y’ doin’?’’ it ejaculated vio- 
lently. ‘‘Tryin’ to shoot a feller up jest fer makin’ 
a little fun?”’ 
The relief was sudden and nerve-destroying. I 
broke into a hysterical laugh and rolled over on the 
ground. Frazer, with a face of thunder, threw down 
his weapon and ran toward the ghost. I had never 
seen him so thoroughly incensed before. ; 
‘¢You damned idiot!’’ he roared. ‘‘I didn’t know 
you were quite such a——— fool! I ought to fire you 
right now! Are you plumb crazy or what?’’ 
Brown pulled the tent flap from his head. He en- 
deavoured to assume an air of injured dignity with 
a somewhat ludicrous result. 
“Don’t see what y’ want to make such a fuss 
over,’’ he grumbled. ‘‘I was jest a playin’ ghost. 
