I was sufficiently acquainted with his type to comprehend there must be some real cause driving him to retreat to the negro cabins for rest.

He was a rough of the Southwest, illiterate of course, but a practical fellow, and, without doubt, a gun-fighter.

He had been employed because of these very characteristics, and it would require surely a very real ghost to drive him away.
I sat there for some time smoking, endeavoring to think it all over coolly, and listening intently.

At first I could distinguish the rattle of dishes downstairs, as Sallie cleared the table, and, a little later, heard Mrs.Bernard moving about uneasily in her room across the hall.

But at last these sounds ceased, and the house became still.