The Phantom of Bogue Holauba

Mary Newton Stanard
The Phantom Of Bogue Holauba,
by

Charles Egbert Craddock (AKA Mary Noailles Murfree) This eBook is
for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no
restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it
under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this
eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: The Phantom Of Bogue Holauba 1911
Author: Charles Egbert Craddock (AKA Mary Noailles Murfree)
Release Date: November 19, 2007 [EBook #23552]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE
PHANTOM OF BOGUE HOLAUBA ***

Produced by David Widger

THE PHANTOM OF BOGUE HOLAUBA
By Charles Egbert Craddock
1911

Gordon never forgot the sensation he experienced on first beholding it.
There was no mist in the midnight. The moon was large and low. The
darkness of the dense, towering forests on either hand impinged in no
wise on the melancholy realm of wan light in which the Mississippi lay,
unshadowed, solitary, silent as always, its channel here a mile or more
in breadth.
He had been observing how the mighty water-course was sending out
its currents into a bayou, called Bogue Holauba, as if the larger stream
were a tributary of the lesser. This peculiarity of the river in the deltaic
region, to throw off volume instead of continually receiving affluents,
was unaccustomed to him, being a stranger to the locality, and for a
moment it focussed his interest The next, his every faculty was
concentrated on a singular phenomenon on the bank of the bogue.
He caught his breath with a gasp; then, without conscious volition, he
sought to explain it to his own shocked senses, to realize it as some
illusion, some combination of natural causes, the hour, the pallor
pervading the air, the distance, for his boat was near the middle of the
stream,--but the definiteness of the vision annulled his efforts.
There on the broad, low margin, distinct, yet with a coercive conviction
of unreality, the figure of a man drawn in lines of vague light paced
slowly to and fro; an old man, he would have said, bent and wizened,
swaying back and forth, in expressive contortions, a very pantomime of
woe, wringing gaunt hands and arms above his head, and now and
again bowing low in recurrent paroxysms of despair. The wind held its
breath, and the river, mute as ever, made no sign, and the encompassing
alluvial wilderness stood for a type of solitude. Only the splashing of
the paddle of the "dug-out" gave token of the presence of life in all the
land.
Gordon could not restrain his wonder. "What--what--is--that
Thing--over there on the bank of the bogue?" he called out to the negro
servant who was paddling the canoe.
He was all unprepared for the effect of his words. Indeed, he was fain
to hold hard to the gunwales. For the negro, with a sudden galvanic

start, let slip the paddle from his hand, recovering it only by a mighty
lunge in a mechanical impulse of self-preservation. The dug-out, the
most tricksy craft afloat, rocked violently in the commotion and
threatened to capsize. Then, as it finally righted, its course was hastily
changed, and under the impetus of panic terror it went shooting down
the river at a tremendous speed.
"Why, what does all this meant" demanded Gordon.
"Don't ye talk ter me, boss!" the boatman, with chattering teeth, adjured
his passenger. "Don't ye talk ter me, boss! Don't tell me ye seed
somepin over dar on Bogue Holauba--'kase ef ye do I'se gwine ter turn
dis dug-out upside down an' swim out ter de Arkansas side. I ain't
gwine ter paddle dis boat fur no ghost-seer, sure 's ye are born. I ain't
gwine ter have no traffickin' wid ghosts nur ghost-seers nuther. I'd die
'fore de year's out, sure!"
The sincerity of the servant's fright was attested by the change in his
manner. He had been hitherto all cheerful, though respectful, affability,
evidently bidding high for a tip. Now he crouched disconsolate and
sullen in his place, wielding the paddle with all his might, and
sedulously holding down his head, avoiding the stranger's eye.
Gordon felt the whole situation in some sort an affront to his dignity,
and the apparition being withdrawn from view by the changed direction,
he was in better case to take account of this,--to revolt at the uncouth
character of the craft and guide sent for him; the absence of any
member of his entertainers family to welcome the visitor, here at their
instance and invitation; the hour of the night; the uncanny incident of
the inexplicable apparition,--but when that thought recurred to him he
sheered off precipitately from the recollection.
It had the salutary effect of predisposing him to make
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