Eagle River review. [volume] (Eagle River, Wis.) 1890-1927, 1922-01-06
(cHAPTER vl-contlnued).

It was fortunate that Cookie knew
nothing of the solitary grave some
where on the island, with It's stone
marked with B. II. and a cross-bones,
nor that the inhabitant thereof was
supposed to walk. If he had, l think
the strange spectacle Of a lone negro
tn q small boat rowing Justify for the
American continent might soon have
been witnessed on the Pacific by any
eyes that were there to see. And we
could Ill have spared either boat or
cook.
Yet even though unvexed by this
grewsome knowledge, after two or
three days l noticed that Cookie was
ill at ease. AS the leisure member of
the party, I enjoyed more OF Cookies
society than the rest. On this occa-
sion while the morning was still in It's
freshness he was permitting me to
make fudge But his usual joviality
was gone. saw that he glanced over
his shoulder at intervals, muttering
darkly to himself. Also that rabbits
foot was slung conspicuously about
his neck.
Having made my fudge and set the
pan on a stone in the stream to cool.
was about 90 retire with view to
conducting a limited exploring expedi-
ton of my own The assurances Of
Mr.. Shaw-not personally directed to
me, of course; the armed truce I'M
der which we lived did not permit of
that-had convinced me that / had
not to dread anything more ferocious
than the pigs, and the widest Of them
would retire before a stick or stone.
Besides, I boosted a little automatic,
which 1 carried strapped to my waist
in a businesslike manner. Mr.. Vane
had almost got me to the point where
4 could shoot it off without shutting
my eyes.
Thus equipped was about to set
off into the woods. l had turned my
back on Cookie and the camp, when
4 was arrested by an exclamation:
"AIiss Jinnyl"
l turned to find Cookie gazing after
me with an expression which, in the
familiar phrase Of fiction, could not
interpret, though among its ingredi-
ients were doubt and anguish. Cookie,
too, looked pale. don't in the least
know how he managed it, but that
was the impression he conveyed,
Idusky as he was.
Miss jimmy, 1t mos look lax yo'
'bout to go perambulatin' in desc yere
woods?"
81 am, Cookie" admitted.
The whites of Cookies eyes became
alarmingly conspicuous. Drawing
near In a stealthy manner he whis-
pered:
"Yo' bettah not, Miss Jinnyl'
ooh, nonsense, Cooker" / said Inn
patiently. There's not thing on the
island but the pigs!'
Miss jimmy" he solemnly replied
'sdey's pigs and pigs"
"Yes, but pigs is pigs, you know"
Il answered, laughing.
'Dey's pigs and pigs, chile-live
ones and-dead ones"
dead onesf OF course haven't we
been eating them?"
"Yo' won't nevah eat dis yere kind
o dead pig, Miss jimmy. lists a
ha'ntT
The murder was out. Cookie leaned
against a cocoa-palm and wiped his
ebon brow.
Persistently questioned, he told at
last how, today and yesterday, aris-
ing In the dim dawn to build his fire
before the camp was stirring, he had
soon IurIxIng at the edge of the clear
ing a white four-footed shape 1t was
a pig, yet not pig; its ghostly hue,
it's noiseless movements, divided it
from all proper mundane porkers by
the dreadful gulf which divides the
living from the dead. The first morn
ing Cookie, doubtful of his senses,
had flung q stone and the spectral
Thing had vanished like shadow.
On its second appearance, having had
day and q night for meditation, he
had known better than to commit such
an outrage upon the possessor of
ghostly powers, and had resorted to
prayer instead. This had answered
quite as well, for the phantom pig had
dissolved like the morning mists.
While the sun blazed what with his
devotions and his rabbits foot and a
cross of twigs nailed to a tree,
Cookie felt fair degree Of security.
But his teeth chartered In his head
at the thought of approaching night.
Meanwhile he could not In conscience
permit me to venture forth into the