Twice I essayed to speak to them, but could not
ejaculate a syllable through sheer horror, and it was only by nerving
myself to the utmost, and forcing my eyes away from them, that I was
able to stick to my seat and hold on to the reins. On and on we dashed,
until trees, road, sky, universe were obliterated in one blinding
whirlwind that got up my nostrils, choked my ears, and deadened me to
everything, save the all-terrorizing, instinctive knowledge, that the
figures by my side, were still there, stalking along as quietly and
leisurely as if the horse had been going at a snail's pace. At last, to my intense relief--for never had the ride seemed longer--I
reached the Crow's Nest, and as I hurriedly dismounted from the trap,
the figures shot past me and vanished. Once inside the house, and in the
bosom of my family, where all was light and laughter, courage returned,
and I upbraided myself bitterly for this cowardice. I confessed to my wife, and she insisted on accompanying me the
following afternoon, at twilight, to the spot where the ghost appeared
to originate. To our intense dismay, we had not been there more than
three or four minutes, before Dora, our youngest girl, a pretty,
sweet-tempered child of eight, came running up to us with a telegram,
which one of the servants had asked her to give us. My wife, snatching
it from her, and reading it, was about to scold her severely, when she
suddenly paused, and clutching hold of the child with one hand, pointed
hysterically at something on one side of her with the other. I looked,
and Dora looked, and we both saw, standing erect and staring at us, the
spare figure of a man, with a ghastly white face and dull, lifeless
eyes, clad in a panama hat, albert coat, and small, patent-leather
boots; beside him were two glossy--abnormally glossy--poodles. I tried to speak, but, as before, was too frightened to articulate a
sound, and my wife was in the same plight. With Dora, however, it was
otherwise, and she electrified us by going up to the figure, and
exclaiming:

"Who are you? You must feel very ill to look so white. Tell me your
name." The figure made no reply, but gliding slowly forward, moved up to a
large, isolated oak, and pointing with the index finger of its left hand
at the trunk of the tree, seemingly sank into the earth and vanished
from view. For some seconds everyone was silent, and then my wife exclaimed:

"Jack, I shouldn't wonder if Dora hasn't been the means of solving the
mystery. Examine the tree closely." I did so. The tree was hollow, and inside it were three skeletons! *       *       *       *       *

Here followed an extract from a local paper:


"_Sensational Discovery in a Wood near Marytown_

"Whilst exploring in a wood, near Marytown, the other evening, a party
of the name of B---- discovered three skeletons--a human being and two
dogs--in the trunk of an oak. From the remnant of clothes still
adhering to the human remains, the latter were proved to be those of an
individual known as Mr. Jeremiah Dance, whose strange disappearance from
the Crow's Nest--the house he rented in the neighbourhood--some two
years ago, was the occasion of much comment. On closer examination,
extraordinary to relate, the remains have been proved to be those of a
WOMAN; and from certain abrasions on the skull, there is little doubt
she met with a violent end." A second extract taken from the same paper runs thus:--


"_Suicide at Marytown_

"Late last night Percy Baldwin, the man who is under arrest on suspicion
of having caused the death of the unknown woman, whose skeleton was
found on Monday in the trunk of a tree, committed suicide by hanging
himself with his suspenders to the ceiling of his cell. Pinned on his
coat was a slip of paper bearing these words: 'She was my wife--I loved
her. She took to drink--I parted from her. She became a dog-worshipper. I killed her--and her dogs.'" _Phantasms of Living Dogs_

I could quote innumerable cases of people who have either seen or heard
the spirits of dead dogs. However, as space does not permit of this, I
proceed to the oft-raised question, "Do animals as well as people
project themselves?" My reply is--yes; according to my experience they
do. Some friends of mine have a big tabby that has frequently been seen in
two places at the same time; for example, it has been observed by
several people to be sitting on a chair in the dining-room, and, at the
same moment, it has been seen by two or more other persons extended at
full length before the kitchen fire--the latter figure proving to be its
immaterial, or what some designate its astral body, which vanishes the
instant an attempt is made to touch it. The only explanation of this
phenomenon seems to me to lie in projection--the cat possessing the
faculty of separating--in this instance, unconsciously--its spiritual
from its physical body--the former travelling anywhere, regardless of
space, time and material obstacles. I have often had experiences similar
to this with a friend's dog. I have been seated in a room, either
reading or writing, and on looking up have distinctly seen the dog lying
on the carpet in front of me. A few minutes later a scraping at the door
or window--both of which have been shut all the while--and on my rising
to see what was there, I have discovered the dog outside! Had I not been
so positive I had seen the dog on the ground in front of me, I might
have thought it was an hallucination; but hallucinations are never so
vivid nor so lasting--moreover, other people have had similar
experiences with the same dog. And why not? Dogs, on the whole, are
every whit as reasoning and reflective as the bulk of human beings! And
how much nobler! Compare, for a moment, the dogs you know--no matter
whether mastiffs, retrievers, dachshunds, poodles, or even Pekinese,
with your acquaintances--with the people you see everywhere around
you--false, greedy, spiteful, scandal-loving women, money-grubbing
attorneys, lying, swindling tradesmen, vulgar parvenus, finicky curates,
brutal roughs, spoilt, cruel children, hypocrites of both sexes--compare
them carefully--and the comparison is entirely in favour of the dog! And if the creating Power (or Powers) has favoured these wholly selfish
and degenerate human beings with spirits, and has conferred on certain
of them the faculty of projecting those spirits, can one imagine, for
one moment, that similar gifts have been denied to dogs--their superiors
in every respect? Pshaw! Out upon it! To think so would mean to think
the unthinkable, to attribute to God qualities of partiality, injustice
and whimsicality, which would render Him little, if anything, better
than a James the Second of England, or a Louis the Fifteenth of France.