Avon Fantasy Reader No. 13 — page 66: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

with six tons of gravel. He walked over to it, reached down and seized the hub of a front wheel. To our utter amazement, the wheel was slowly lifted from the ground. When it was raised to a height of eight or nine inches, the youth looked inquiringly in our direction. We must have appeared sufficiently awed, for he dropped the wheel with an abruptness that evoked a yell from the driver, who thought his tire would blow out. “We can certainly use this fellow,” I said, and Juggy agreed. “What’s your name, Shadow?” he demanded. “Karl Rand,” said the boy, but “Shadow” stuck to him, as far as the crew was concerned. We put him to work at once, and he slaved all morning, accomplishing tasks that we ordinarily assigned two or three men to do. We were on the road at lunchtime, some miles from Friedenburg. I re- called that Shadow had not brought his lunch. “You can take mine,” I said. “I'll drive in to the village and eat.” “T never eat none,” was Shadow’s astonishing remark. “You never eat!” The crew had heard his assertion, and there was an amused crowd about him at once. I fancied that he was pleased to have an audience. “No, I never eat,” he repeated. “You see”—he lower his voice—“you see, ’m a ghost!” We exchanged glances. So Shadow was psychopathic. We shrugged our shoulders. “Whose ghost are you?” gibed Juggy. “Napoleon’s?” “Oh, no. I'm my own ghost. You see, I’m dead.” “Ah! This was all Juggy could say. For once, the arch-kidder was non- plussed. “That's why I’m so strong,” added Shadow. “How long have you been dead?” I asked. “Six years. I. was fifteen years old then.” “Tell us how it happened. Did you die a natural death, or were you killed trying to lift a fast freight off the track?” This question was asked by Juggy, who was slowly recovering. : “It was in the cave,” answered Shadow solemnly. “I slipped and fell over a bank. I cracked my head on the floor. I’ve been a ghost ever since.” “Then why do you walk by day instead of by night?” “T got to keep my mother.” Shadow looked so sincere, so pathetic when he made this answer, that we left off teasing him. I tried to make him eat my lunch, but he would have none of it. I expected to see him collapse that afternoon, but he worked steadily and showed no sign of tiring. We didn’t know what to make of him. I confess that I was a little afraid in his presence. After all, a madman with almost superhuman strength is.a dangerous character. But Shadow seemed perfectly harmless and docile. When we had returned to our boarding-house that night, we plied our landlord with questions about Karl Rand. He drew himself up authorita- tively, and lectured for some minutes upon Shadow’s idiosyncrasies. 64 a a comicioool T H aed of a 4