Near the fence he made a discovery that startled
him a little.
"It's a squaw, by Jove!" he cried when he caught an unmistakable
flicker of skirts; and the next moment he could have laughed
aloud if he had not been winded from the chase. The figure
reached the fence before him, and in the dim light he could see
it stoop to pass through. Then it seemed as if the barbs had
caught in its clothing and held it there. It struggled to free
itself; and in the next minute he rushed up and clutched it fast.
"Why don't you float over the treetops?" he panted ironically.
"Ghosts have no business getting their spirit raiment tangled up
in a barbed-wire fence."
It answered with a little exclamation, with a sob following close
upon it. There was a sound of tearing cloth, and he held his
captive upright, and with a merciless hand turned her face so
that the moonlight struck it full. They stared at each other,
breathing hard from more than the race they had run.
"Well--I'll--be--" Grant began, in blank amazement.
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