Wilson lit his pipe and with arms folded on the top rail of the barnyard fence gazed down across the partially-cleared, fire-dotted sweep to where, a mile distant, a long, densely timbered point of land stood darkly silhouetted against the sheen of a rising moon.,
"Well, hang to 'em tight till we get away from this ha'nted grove. Ghosts don't mind rain none—an' he's liable t' be prowlin' out. Say, can't y' whistle a bit, so's it won't be so pesky lonesome?",
"Oh, so she's your gal, is she?" Caleb thrust his hands deep into his pockets, striving hard to keep his face stern. "How long you and Ann been sweetheartin'?" he asked..
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