Lots of 'em
couldn't be hired to spend a night on the side of that big uplift."
"But Frank, we don't believe in any such thing, do we?" pursued Bob, as
if he had begun to suspect what all this talk was leading up to, and
wished to draw his chum on.
"We sure don't, and that's a fact," declared Frank. "Twice, now, one
of our boys has made out that he saw a ghost, but both times I managed
to turn the laugh on him. All the same, if you offered a lump sum for
any fellow to go and camp out half-way up the side of Thunder Mountain
for a week, I don't believe he could be found, not at Circle Ranch,
anyhow."
"I've seen the same kind of men myself; and the coons around our old
Kentucky home always carried a foot of a graveyard rabbit, shot in the
full of the moon, as a sure talisman against ghosts. I've seen many a
rabbit's foot. No use talking to any of them; it's in the blood and
can't be cured. But about that offering a sum for any fellow to go and
camp on the side of that old fraud of a haunted mountain, if you happen
to hear about such a snap you might just think of me, Frank."
The other saddle boy smiled broadly. He believed he knew Bob pretty
well by this time, and could no longer doubt what the Kentucky lad was
hinting at.
"Say, look here, would you take me up if I proposed something right
now?" asked Frank, his face filled with sudden animation.
"If you mean that we try and beat Peg Grant at his own game, and learn
what the secret of Thunder Mountain is, I say yes!" answered Bob,
steadily.
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