THE GHOST AT THE WINDOW
by Wilson Hare
My grandfather, Ernest Hare, went on trapping expeditions that took him from the old homestead at the head of the settlement on the Little Southwest up to the Holmes Lake area. A daunting journey in midwinter, alone and on snowshoes. On one occasion he left a camp at Lihbies Brook and set out to follow a trap line that would take him on a fifteen mile circuit to North Lake and Main Brook. On the way back to his camp at Libbies Brook he got caught in a heavy rainstorm. This was mid January and it was a very cold rain. Grandfather was getting wet and awful cold so he decided to spend the night in an old camp about four miles from his place on Libbies Brook. A story had persisted over many years that this was a haunted camp. An old trapper had gone out of the camp one night to get some firewood when the "bear bar" ( a device used to brace the door shut to keep bears out) fell down and locked him out. As it was mid winter, bitterly cold and not being dressed for the outdoors the old fellow froze to death. What was left of his body was found the next summer by the barred window. According to a number of woodsmen that stayed at the camp after that, the old trapper's ghost had on occasions been seen trying to get in the window.
Grandfather was aware of this but his only concern at the time was getting warm and dry. By this time it was freezing rain and he took great comfort in that old camp. He hung up his wet clothes, had a late supper of biscuits and molasses and crawled into bed. Sometime during the night he was awakened by a tapping sound, so he got up, lit a birch bark torch and checked out the camp. He thought it might have been a small animal so he went back to bed. No sooner had he put his head back down when he heard the tapping sound again. This time he caught a glimpse of a hand tapping on the window pane. The weather had cleared and the moon was partially out, giving enough light to outline the very skinny arm and hand at the window. Grandfather admitted the hair stood up on the back of his neck, but he had to open the door for whoever was out there for he was surely half frozen. He opened the camp door and sung out for the stranger to come on in. According to Grandfather he was more interested than afraid of who or what it might be. He called out several times but nobody come to the door or answered him. Thinking it must have been his imagination he shut the door and went back to bed. Just as he was settling down again the tapping started more loudly than ever and he could clearly see the hand tapping on the window.He put on some clothes and went out to see who or what it was and what they were doing. As he went around the corner of the camp there the lad was, hanging on to the window sill and tapping on the pane of glass with those long bony fingers!
Grandfather made his way up to this skeleton of a person too mesmerized to be afraid. He grabbed the figure by the shoulders and attempted to help him in to the camp but it did not seem to want to go. Suddenly the bony arms and fingers broke into a thousand pieces! Then Grandfather realized it was a bush growing by the side of the camp that had become encrusted with ice. The weight of the ice on the branches and the wind was just enough to create a tapping against the window. A simple explanation by unusual conditions •..•..•..••. maybe.
Ever since Grandfather told me this story, I always cut every bush by every window of any camp I ever stay at.