In the fading light Dorrie glimpsed a movement by the forked tree. She's sure it wasn't a roo, but if she tells her grandfather, he'll just blame her overactive imagination. Half-light or not, roos didn't wear pants and a shirt, and have big eyes peering out from under a tangled mass of dark curls. It was a boy she'd seen vanishing around that stringybark. Dorrie hopes it wasn't the ghost...