Talking loudly, a mile a minute and moving fast; they passed below me and by the time I stood on the path and caught my breath from the strenuous descent I had just completed, they were out of sight.
I stood a while listening to the descent and meditating on the perception of the experience, of those fortunate survivors of that ghostly encounter. Soon, I started to walk down myself. I had taken but a step or two, when I noticed a figure walking up the road towards me. He had no light and it was apparent by his head down posture, that he; for I could tell it was a man, had not yet seen me. It occurred to me that this could be the older boy coming back to confront his fears but I doubted it, this fellow seemed much too big. Even so, I had passing thoughts of what I might say if it was the boy.
About fifteen feet from me, a middle-aged man carrying a plastic bag and perhaps, a wee bit, with John Barleycorn, abruptly noticed me standing in the road, outlined in the moonlit clouds. He froze in his tracks! His shocked features were well lit by moonlight. “Good evening, sir, it’s a sterling night is it not?” said Doc.
The man didn’t say a word but he sidled around me as far away as he could with his back to the drop off, always facing me. I turned with him. He backed uphill several steps and then turned and began to walk rapidly away uphill. I stepped into a tree shadow and had vanished when he again looked over his shoulder. He hurried on up the hill and was soon gone from sight. I waited a bit longer and walked down the hill to find the jeep and go home.
When John found me coming down the path, he was in rough shape. He was still in fits of laughter, his stomach hurt and he had bitten his lip. He had had a hard time keeping quiet as the youngsters came by him, still discussing what they had seen. He had been a ways up the path and followed them down to the bottom listening to the tale being related between them. He described the scene at the information sign near the sidewalk at the bottom of the path.
The four are gathered around the sign and illuminating the picture of Doc. They all agree that it was Doc, whom they have seen; but the girl says,” It’s him, but he looked a lot older!”
One of the younger boys blurts out, “Yeah, but he’s been DEAD a hundred years!”
Well,… so much for my fantasy that in my portrayal; even generously adding the ravages of consumption and whiskey to his image; I might pass for the much younger Dr. Holliday! Ah, youth! They don’t lie about things like that!
John, choking down his laughter watches them retreat down the street still excitedly reliving the adventure.
I relate to John the entire scene up in the cemetery and we exchange perspectives on the moment of the scream. We decide it was very Halloween. When I relate the story of the “homeless” man heading up to bed; John again has fits of laughter.
It seems he overheard the following exchange between the mountain dweller and those who had met with the spirit. When the kids meet the man on the road, they admonish him to “be careful up there tonight!”
The man says, “Oh, I live up here all the time. I’m not afraid of the bears!”
To which the kids respond, “Forget about the bear! Doc Holliday’s up there!”Well, it did kind of explain the guy’s reaction to me! John and I had to stop twice to laugh while driving the six or eight blocks to his house. We probably would have been arrested as drunk or wacko.