Standing  erect  on  a  decayed  log,  expanding  its  ruff,  and
spreading  its  tail,  the  bird  would  give  two  introductory
blows,  pause,  then  resume,  striking  faster  and  faster,  till
the  sound  became  a  continuous  whirr,  lasting  a  half  min-
ute or  more.  The  bird's  wings  barely  touch  the  log— the
drumming  sound  is  produced  by  the  force  of  the  blows
upon  the  air.
THE  GRAVEYARD  AND  THE  HAUNTED  BARN

Even  when  in  his  early  teens,  an  unwelcome  companion
named  Fear  used  to  hover  about  John  at  nightfall.  By
day  he  would  go  over  to  Uncle  Henry's,  marching  up  the
hill  and  around  the  little  old  graveyard  as  boldly  as  a
soldier,  but  on  his  return  at  dusk  Fear  would  suddenly
approach,  nudge  him,  and  remind  him  of  the  frightful
tales  Granther  Kelly  used  to  tell.  One  story  of  Granther's
which  made  his  blood  run  cold  had  a  way  of  coming  to
mind  just  as  he  rounded  the  bend  of  the  road  by  the  lonely
graves:  Once,  in  Granther's  youth,  when  he  was  going  by
a  cemetery  one  pitch-dark  night,  all  alone,  with  no  sound
to  be  heard  but  the  hoot  of  an  owl  in  the  nearby  woods,
he  suddenly  saw  a  light  rising  above  a  low  headstone.
It  moved  swiftly.  It  came  his  way,  rolling  and  tumbling
as  it  came,  and  all  of  a  sudden  whirled  by  him  in  the  road.
It  was  a  big  ball  of  fire — "monstrous  big,  as  big  as  a
wash-tub!— some  Evil  Spirit  that  could  not  rest  in  its
grave!  "


BOYHOOD  RECOLLECTIONS  55

This  gruesome  recital,  told  as  only  Granther  could  tell
it,  and  emphasized  with  his  "Zounds!"  and  "Zuckers!"
seemed  to  John  to  have  happened  in  that  very  locality.
