Darrell Seahorn stopped at our house Saturday afternoon, on the old Liberty road on his way home from visiting the Conaway�s. I suspect he visited Conaway because their niece, 19 year old beauty, Shirley Stanley, was also visiting. At any rate, Darrell had a glass of iced tea with us and chatted a bit before he started up the lane that runs west between Liberty road and County Road 19, where he lived.

The first week of July, 1939, had been a warm day. The sun was setting and dad told Darrell that the lane through the swamp would be very dark in less than an hour, and riding through there was bad enough in daylight, let alone in the dark. Darrell said he knew the lane and it was only a little over a mile anyway. To go around was at least three miles out of his way.

Half hour later, a very bedraggled Darrell came riding back, in a dead run, to our house and that old Rhone mare was very jumpy, wide eyed and frightened. Darrell could hardly speak and said, �Something is down there in that swamp! It�s a ghost, Jay! A damn ghost!�

Now, my father would never believe there was such a thing and told him, �Darrell, calm down. You may have seen something but there is no such thing as a ghost. Probably a wild cat or something.�

�Jay, what ever it was it was about six feet off the ground and looked like a bright light,� Darrell said. �Scared the hell out of my horse and me. It came straight at me and then went straight up and disappeared. Old Red just turned and ran as fast as she could to here. It weren�t no wild cat, nor nothing else of this world!�

We all could see that Darrell and old Red had seen something. Darrell was well thought of and known to be an honest man. They were both shaking with fear. Dad said, �Boys, get your shotgun and lets go down there and have a look.�

James went in the house and took out his shotgun and handed me my rifle. Dad took his old 12 gage, fully loaded. Darrell started off with us, but less than a hundred feet down the lane, Old Red refused to go any further. By this time there was no light and the trees hanging with moss blocked out even the overcast sky. James took Darrell�s old mare and went back to our house, leaving his shotgun with Darrell. The three of us walked through the lane, getting muddy, since the puddles in the wagon tracks were as black as the swamp on either side. We felt spooky, but thought it was because of Darrell�s report.

When we arrived at County Road 19, we had seen nothing, so we turned and walked back, all the way through that muddy lane. Again we saw nothing. Most spooky thing we heard was a screech owl calling it�s mate.

Dad put Old Red in the lot by the barn, and then drove Darrell home around the main roads, since no car would go through that swamp lane. James and I took the saddle and bridle off Red and gave her a handful of feed. She still seemed to be frightened and kept her head up and eyes wide. When I latched the gate, and the latch clanked, and Old Red jumped and spun around. Obviously, something had frightened that old, gentle mare.

The next day after Church, James and I took our guns and walked through the swamp, stopping and looking for anything that was not normal. There were many coon tracks and rabbit tracks, but the only thing out of the ordinary was a rabbit remains with owl tracks all around. That, in itself, was not unusual, since there were lots of large horned owls in that area.

The following Tuesday, Mr. Gordon Byres came to our house and borrowed dad�s single stock plow to use in tilling his small garden. Gordon was over eighty years old and had lived in that same house since he was twenty. He had been through that lane many times, and used it as a short cut to get to his house, just off County Road 19.

About 6:30 that evening Gordon returned the plow in his one-horse wagon. He always carried a coal oil lantern and a carbide light in the wagon, and had traveled that lane at night more than once.

Since Gordon now lived alone and would not fix food for himself, mom insisted that he stay and eat. After the meal was finished, dad and Gordon sat on the front porch and talked. About 10 O�clock, Gordon left for home through the swamp lane.

About 12:30, Mr. Billy Seahorn, Darrell�s father, drove to our house and told us that Gordon�s horse had run away and wrecked the wagon. Gordon had a broken shoulder but managed to get close enough to the Seahorn house to rouse the dogs. He was in a lot of pain, so Billy took him to Doc Seaman in Mansfield. He wanted us to go with him to find the wagon and horse. He said Gordon had told him that a ghost had frightened him and the horse, and the horse bolted.

Dad, Billy, James and I all took guns and carbide lights and went through the swamp, back and forth several times. Later, we discovered that Gordon�s horse had gone home, dragging a badly damaged wagon. Dad said, �There has to be something here because neither Darrell nor Gordon is given to tall stories. And something had to have scared the glory out of those two horses.� We spent most of the night looking at every inch of that lane and found nothing. With us splashing and shining the lights, even the coons and rabbits didn�t show themselves. Whatever it was, it was choosing it�s own time to show up.

The news about the two ghost sightings spread through the community and many people went down the lane during daylight to see whatever they could. No one reported anything out of the ordinary.

All sorts of stories were told and retold. Someone said they thought those two had gotten some sorry rot gut. Darrell, I suppose, may have a sip, but it would be hard for me to believe that Gordon would. That did not explain why the horses were so frightened, either.

There was once a church at the corner of Liberty road and where the lane took off. The story was that there were some early pioneers in that part of Arkansas who had been buried there and it just had to be ghost of some of them.

Another story was that during the war between the States, a group of locals were herded into the church and killed, so it just had to be some ghost of that event. Well, the church was destroyed during the war, but no such killings had occurred.

Along in September, almost two months after the two ghost sightings, a government surveyor working in the area, stopped at our house and asked about the different back trails that were located through out the area. He knew some of them and took notes on others. Of course, the lane through the swamp was mentioned. He said he would inspect it and just might recommend that it be built up so people could cut off the extra miles they had to travel to go around.

We warned him not to try driving his car through there since it was boggy and he would get stuck. He did try driving through and, about half way, his car bogged in and he could not get out. He decided to just stay there for the night and walk out to Seahorn�s house the next morning for help. It was early and he had plenty of time to set up his camp.

About 10:30, there was someone calling outside our house. It was the government man, white as a ghost himself, asking that he be let in and to close and lock the doors. He said he was attacked by what he said �Had to be a dead spirit.� He explained that he had gone to his car and was standing on the road bending over into the door when there was a bright light came down the road from the west, straight for him. He said it was about two feet round and had shimmering tails streaming behind and came very fast. Just as it was almost to the car it went straight up and disappeared. The entire episode lasted perhaps ten seconds. He was so frightened that he grabbed his pistol and made a fast walk out of there.

This report frightened just about everyone. There was enough evidence to get the law enforcement involved. The sheriff openly said he thought it was �just some prankster boys pulling a sick joke.� Of course, he meant James and I, or Darrell Seahorn, since we were living near that lane. James got a little huffy about it and told the sheriff off, inviting him to prove it. I just told him to walk that lane every night until he saw it, and capture us boys in the act.

The sheriff, and a bunch of deputies, searched the entire area, and even waded into that stinking water on both sides of the lane, and came back empty. Just about everyone started calling him �Old Don�t Know.� People would say, �Old don�t know and ain�t gonna find out.� He lost the next election�

Mr. Ralph Pledger, who lived in Mansfield, kept saying that there is a logical explanation to everything. In early October, he got together a group of men and they camped out along the road. It was getting cooler and they saw nothing. But, to Ralph, it did explain a few facts. He came to the conclusion that the ghost had to have something to do with the late evening fog that raised off that swamp on hot days. With the cool snap, the fog did not rise. Made sense, but what caused it to glow and move? He had no idea, but would conduct other observations to try to find out. Ralph was a very level headed man, and did not get upset easily.

A week or so later the cool spell ended and a shower had fallen. The day was very warm, so Ralph camped again in the lane. He took a camera and set it on a tripod facing the west, at the place where the sightings were seen. Twice he observed the bright ball of light as it appeared to come straight down the lane, then just before crashing into him, sailed up and went out. Both times it lasted from first sighting till gone, less than ten seconds, but he did snap the camera, twice on the first and once on the second. Neither of the first two pictures showed anything except a small blur of light in the corner of the frame. The last one, however, caught the light nearly center. It looked like someone had shined a flashlight into the camera at about fifty feet away.

Now, there was enough interest to get Old Don�t Know involved again. He contacted the newspaper in Fort Smith who contacted Ralph. Ralph showed them what he had and discussed all he knew. The newspaper brought cameras out and set them up in several locations along the lane. These cameras were heavy, and, since their truck could not go through the muddy bogs, they carried them in.

During the night as the newspaper men sat with their shutter release in their hands, they decided to send one of the men for refreshments. That man took the truck and drove to our house where mom made coffee and jelly sandwiches. He then decided to drive all the way around to the west end of the lane since he would be closer to the cameras and would not have to walk so far. That�s when they discovered what the ghost really was.

Seems that County Road 19 winds it�s way through the hills in a north-south general direction. It made a westward swing almost straight out from the west end of the swamp lane with a slight incline rising to the south. When the truck went by going up the hill, nothing happened, but, when he turned around and approached in the downhill direction, his headlights shown directly down the lane until he turned the corner. The truck movement caused the light to appear to travel. But, it would not be noticed unless there was enough fog hanging low over the swamp to be illuminated by the light. The newsmen ran a number of tests and it worked every time.

The winter before there were several large trees cut at the corner for firewood, allowing the lights to shine down the lane. The ghost was shooed away by placing a board fence at the corner, all of about ten feet long�.

The swamp lane was never improved and was abandoned when another road was built a quarter of a mile farther south, by-passing the swamp. That new road was named, (what else) �Ghost Road.�