The ghost was making for the fence again, as if it would double upon its trail and reach some previously chosen refuge.

Grant turned and ran also toward the fence, guessing shrewdly that the fugitive would head for the place where the wire could be spread about, and a beaten trail led from there straight out to the road which passed the house.

It was the short cut from the peach orchard; and it occurred to him that this particular spook seemed perfectly familiar with the byways of the ranch.

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.