The Case of the Halloween Ghost. John R. Erickson

off, I got a foot in the face. You know what he said?

      “Get that cold nose away from me!”

      Well, there was a very good reason why my nose . . .

      It turned out to be a pretty rough night. Slim did everything in his sleep but sleep. He talked, he moaned, he thrashed, he snored, and most of all, he kicked. And then there was Drover’s twitching and wheezing.

      Noisiest bed I ever slept in.

      Sometime in the middle of the night, I decided I’d had enough. I poked my head out of the covers and was about to go in search of a quieter place to sleep when all of a sudden . . .

      I perked my ears and listened. There it was again, that same eerie music coming from outside the house.

      Oh brethern ain’t you happy?

      Oh brethern ain’t you happy?

      Oh brethern ain’t you happy?

      Ye Followers of the Lamb.

      Fellers, I didn’t know who that was or why they were out there singing in the cold, but I never would have guessed that it might be a bunch of ghosts.