"Well, speak up!" growled the voice. "What 's wanted?"
It was not in my nature to fear men, and this was evidently a man. I
could feel the warm blood surge back to my heart.
"You surely startled me, friend," I explained. "Are you the overseer?"
"I reckon I am, but what I want to know is, who you are?"
"I?" striving to regain my wits. "Why, I am--am Philip Henley; we--we
have just got in from the North."
"How did you git out yere?"
"A negro drove us from the station--old Pete who worked here once;
maybe you know him?"
The man grunted.
"What become of the nigger?"
"He simply dumped us out at the gate, and drove back as though the
devil was after him. He said the place was haunted."
"And he hit it about right at that, as ye'r' likely to find out afore
mornin'. Is that a woman with you?"
"Yes--may we come in?"
"Oh, I reckon I ain't got no license to turn yer away, if yer mind ter
risk it. Lord knows I 'm willin' 'nough to hav' company. Git yer
duds, an' I 'll light up, so yer kin see a bit."
He disappeared, and I lugged the grips to the top of the steps, where
we waited. Then a faint light streamed out through the open door, a
moment later outlining his figure.
"Come on in," he said, still gruffly.
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