“At half-past ten by the old town clock,” in the words of The Fungus, eight figures might have been dimly seen emerging from the dining-room window and crossing the turf toward the lilac hedge. They might have been seen, but weren’t; which was just as well for the little band of marauders. In some pocket each member of the desperate company carried a pillow-case. Their coats were buttoned close and no tell-tale expanse of linen was allowed to show. One by one they bent and squirmed through the hole in the picket fence and as silently as possible negotiated the lilac hedge. The latter wasn’t an easy task, for the bushes were close together and the branches had managed to form a fairly impregnable barrier. But at last they were all through, Claire Parker bringing up the rear with his heart in his mouth[140] and his eyes staring anxiously about in the darkness. Between them and the back of the house, which, like many old residences thereabouts, consisted of a series of additions running back from the main house in an ever diminishing fashion and terminating in a disused granary, was a fair eighty yards of turf and garden, while beyond the orchard of pear and apple and plum trees, interspersed with small fruits, was near at hand. They halted in the deep shadow of a group of shade trees that stood near the hedge and listened. Not a sound was to be heard from the direction of the house. The moon wasn’t in sight, although in the east the sky showed light. Stars peered down at them here and there, but for the most part clouds covered the sky. At the front of the house yellow light shone out on the drive. “All quiet along the Potomac,” whispered Spud. “Let’s hurry before that moon butts in and spoils things.”
“Better keep in the lower side of the orchard,” advised Hoop. “Then they can’t see us possibly.”
“Sure. Besides, the big red apples are down there at the corner. The others aren’t worth fooling with.”
[141]
“Come on, then,” said Sandy. “I’ll go ahead. Keep quiet, fellows. Stop your whispering, Dutch.”
The band crept forward, hugging the deeper gloom of the trees until they had reached the end of the orchard. Once there, there was a quick and silent rush for a certain big tree that grew the apples they best liked. Out came the pillow-cases and hands searched the ground for fallen fruit. But there was little of that yet, for there had been no rain or wind storms.
“Who’s going to shake?” asked Spud softly.
“Let Clara do it,” said Hoop. “He’s small and can shin up easily.”
“I—I’d rather not,” said Claire nervously.
“I’ll do it,” Cal volunteered. “You take my bag, Ned.” He had soon worked his way to the crotch of the tree and from there he walked out on one of the branches and jarred it by jumping up and down. The apples fell in a veritable shower, and Spud, who had been looking up, received one fairly and squarely on the tip of his nose and said “Gee!” so loudly that he was threatened with awful things if he didn’t keep quiet.
[142]
“Guess you’d yell if a big old apple hit you on the nose,” he muttered aggrievedly as he filled his pillow-case.
“Shut up, you idiot! Give her another shake, Cal!” said Sandy.
“Wait a minute and I’ll try another branch.” There was a rustling as Cal moved cautiously about the tree and then another rain of fruit began. “Anyone filling my bag?” he asked in a whisper. But his question was never answered, for somebody—it sounded like The Fungus, though he always maintained that he never opened his mouth—let out a screech of terror, and panic seized the company. Cal, with the branches adding to the darkness about him, saw nothing, but the sound of footsteps pounding the ground told him that he was being deserted by his comrades. Once someone fell and there was a smothered exclamation of alarm, and then there reached him the sound of crashing branches as the boys fled helter-skelter through the lilacs and surmounted the fence as best they might.
[143]
 
Panic seized the company
[144-
145]
Cal’s first thought was to drop to the ground and race after them, for he didn’t need to be told that danger was at hand. But by the time he was ready to swing himself down the others were half-way to the fence and he realized that safety lay in remaining where he was, hidden in the dark foliage of the tree. With his heart pounding so that he feared it would proclaim his whereabouts to the pursuit, he waited and watched. For a full minute he heard nothing and saw nothing. Then a sound reached him, a sound that resembled a chuckle, and to his overwrought ears a most diabolical chuckle at that, and an instant later there came dimly into sight a ghastly white form that almost caused him to fall out of the tree from sheer terror.
The moon was almost at the horizon and a ray of light slanted through an opening in the trees and illumined the form for a brief moment. It stood almost under the tree and while he watched, his eyes almost popping from his head and his heart standing still, it grew smaller and smaller until it was only two or three feet high, and then in an equally mysterious way lengthened again, fluttered under his gaze for a moment and then was hidden by the branches.
Cal didn’t believe in ghosts, of course; what sensible boy does? But there was something frightfully uncanny about that white-robed[146] figure and the noiseless way in which it came and went. For it had gone, although Cal didn’t know how far and would have given a good deal to find out. There were drops of cold perspiration on his forehead, a queer twitching at his scalp that felt as though his hair was trying its best to stand on end, and uncomfortable shivers up and down his spine. He tried to laugh at himself, but the laugh wouldn’t come. He clutched the branch tightly and waited what seemed an eternity. Once he was almost certain that he heard the closing of a distant door, but he didn’t intend to run any risks. And so it was a good five minutes after the alarm that he finally dropped to the ground, looked fearfully around him for sight of the dread figure and then bolted as fast as his legs would take him for the hedge and the fence and safety! There was no thought of avoiding noise. He crashed into the hedge and through it, scrambled over the fence—just how he didn’t know—and fled across the turf to where, under the dining-room window, seven agitated comrades awaited him. When he saw them he drew up and strove to complete his arrival more calmly.
“Did you see it?” cried The Fungus.
[147]
“What was it?” demanded the others. “Did it catch you?”
“You bet I saw it!” panted Cal. “It came right under the tree and stood there and got little and then got big again and just disappeared like—like that!” And he waved his arm.
“Thunder!” whispered Spud hoarsely. “What do you suppose it was?”
“It was a g-ghost,” sniffled Claire.
“Ghost your granny!” ridiculed Sandy. “It was somebody with a sheet around them, that’s what it was. Anyhow, we’re all in for trouble.”
There was gloomy accordance with this, but the subject of the mysterious visitant was too interesting to keep away from.
“I looked up and saw it between the trees,” said The Fungus, “and maybe I wasn’t scared!”
“I guess you were!” said Sandy. “You let out a yell that they could hear in town.”
“I never! I didn’t open my mouth! I was too blamed scared!”
“Well, someone did,” said Dutch. “And it wasn’t me, for I never saw anything. I heard[148] someone yell and then everyone ran and I grabbed my bag and ran too.”
“You saw it, didn’t you, Hoop?”
“Sure! About seven feet high it looked and sort of phosphorescent.”
“I didn’t notice that,” said Cal doubtfully.
“Well, you didn’t see it the way we did, I guess,” said Hoop in a tone of pride. “You were up in the tree.”
“I cal’late I saw it better than anyone,” responded Cal indignantly. “Didn’t it come and stand there right under me almost for two or three minutes?”
“Gee! Did it, honest?” asked Ned. “I didn’t get more than a glimpse of it. That was all I wanted, though.”
“Well, let’s get upstairs,” said Sandy, “before anyone comes and finds us here.” They climbed in the window, each casting an anxious glance toward the orchard as he did so, and then stole noiselessly upstairs. Strange to say, each boy had brought his bag of apples safely away save Cal.
“I was too scared to even drop mine,” explained Spud, “and I didn’t know I had it until I got to the fence.”
“Same here,” said The Fungus. “It’s a[149] good thing we didn’t leave the pillow-cases over there, though, for they’ve all got ‘West House’ marked on them as plain as daylight.”
“Who has got mine?” asked Cal at this juncture. They had all congregated in Sandy’s room and were sitting around wherever they could find space. Spud had lighted the gas and turned it half down. At Cal’s question each fellow looked at the other while dismay settled rapidly on every face. “I gave it to you, Ned, you know,” Cal went on anxiously. Ned shook his head dismally.
“I know,” he answered. “I was going to fill it, but I couldn’t fill both at once and so I leaned yours against the tree. I—I guess it’s right there now!”
A deep silence held the group, broken at length by a sigh from Claire.
“I wish I’d never gone,” he murmured miserably.
“I guess we all wish that—now,” said Sandy dryly. “If the Old Maids find that pillow-case there’ll be the dickens to pay.”
“What does it matter?” asked Dutch gloomily. “Someone saw us swiping the apples and saw us come over here. That pillow-case will only be supervacaneous evidence.”
[150]
“Don’t use bad words, Dutch,” said Hoop sternly.
“Just the same,” said Sandy, “someone ought to go over and bring that back, I think.”
There was no enthusiasm displayed. The silence grew embarrassing.
“Whose pillow-case was it?” asked Hoop finally.
“Mine,” answered Cal.
“Well, th............