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Somebody told the story of old Brouwer , who did not believe in ghosts at all . One night he met the Horseman . The ghost made him get up on the horse behind him . They galloped over bushes , hills and swamps until they reached the bridge . There the Horseman suddenly turned into a skeleton . He threw old Brouwer into the stream and jumped away over the treetops with a crash of thunder . Brom Bones at once told a story that was three times as wonderful . He laughed at the Headless Horseman and called him a poor rider . One night , Brom said , the Horseman caught up with him on the road . Brom offered to race him for a bowl of punch . “ And I was winning , too , ” said Brom . “ Daredevil was much faster than the ghost’s horse . But just as we came to the church bridge , the Horseman ran away . He disappeared in a flash of fire . ” The men told all these stories in low voices , as people do in the dark . Now and then the glow of a pipe lit up a face . The stories sank deep into Ichabod’s mind . He paid them back with long pieces from Cotton Mather . He also told them about the fearful things he saw on his own night walks . Slowly the party came to an end . The old farmers put their families into their wagons and rattled away over the hills . Some of the girls rode behind their young men on horseback . Their happy laughter echoed through the silent woods , softer and softer , until it died away . Only Ichabod stayed behind . That was the custom of country lovers . He wanted to talk to Katrina alone , and he was sure that success was near . What happened during their talk I cannot say , because I really do not know . But I am afraid something went wrong . He did not stay long , and he came out looking very sad . Oh , these women ! Was the girl only playing a game with him ? Was she kind to the poor schoolmaster only to make Brom jealous ? Heaven knows , I don’t ! Ichabod did not look at the rich farm that he loved so much . He went straight to the stable . With a few angry kicks he woke up his horse . Old Gunpowder was sleeping comfortably and dreaming of mountains of corn and oats . VIII . The Ride Home It was the middle of the night , the hour of witches and ghosts . Ichabod rode home sadly along the hills . Only a few hours before , he was so happy on this same road . Now the night was as dark and sad as he was . Far below him lay the river , grey and dim . He could hear a dog barking on the other side of the Hudson . Now all the ghost stories of the evening came back into his mind . The night grew darker and darker , and clouds hid the stars . He felt more lonely than ever before . And he was coming close to the very place where many of the ghost stories happened .
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