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122
TOM SWIFT AMONG THE DIAMOND MAKERS
peak of the one on the side of which the tent was pitched, he gave a start of surprise.
For, coming down a place where, that afternoon, Tom had noticed a sort of indefinite trail, was a figure in white. A tall, waving figure, which swayed this way and that—a figure which halted and then came on again.
"I wonder—I wonder if that can be a wisp of fog?" mused the young inventor. He rubbed his eyes, thinking it might be a swirling of the night mist or a defect of vision. Then, as he saw more plainly, he noticed the thing in white rushing toward him.
"It's the phantom—the phantom!" cried Tom, aloud. "It's the thing the miner saw! We're on Phantom Mountain now!"
