A GHOST STORY FROM THE PAST----- TRUE, I SWEAR!

     Once upon a time, 55 years ago, My wife Darlene, our baby son Danny and I were living in a tiny town in the West Kootenays of the province of  B.C., Canada. We were in a quiet little mining and logging village of Ymir, not far from a quite larger town called Salmo, B.C.
     I had been transferred there while working with the Dept. of Highways Construction Branch, in preparation for the building of the Skyway Pass, a road between Creston and Salmo commonly referred to as the "Creston/Salmo Cut-off".
     When we moved to Ymir, there weren't a lot of places to rent, so fortunate for us, someone introduced us to a man named Byron Hoplind, who had purchased an old building that once had been the "only" hostel in the little settlement, and was in the midst of renovating the second floor of the building into 3 comfortable little apartments. (He himself, had fashioned a sort of disorganized bachelor's quarters that he stayed in on the main floor, while he going about his renovations.)
     He had just completed one of those intended three, and was proceeding with the others.
     Byron was a confirmed bachelor in his forties, quiet and proper who obviously wasn't one to be idle when he wasn't working his regular shift in a mine as a Scaler for CM&S. (Now more commonly known as "Cominco").
     The apartment he rented to us was just right for our needs, so we settled in quite comfortably. spending a lot of our time in my off hours playing cribbage well into the night.
      I must point out that the entrance to our living quarters was by way of outside stairs, such as the wooden ones you would see in the old westerns, with a small landing at the top before entering through a passage door into the wide hallway leading to the various rooms. There was a wide brick chimney that passed up through the hallway to accommodate a fireplace in the lobby of the main floor. Our apartment was directly across from that chimney.
     After spending several weeks there, and falling into our everyday routine, we were quietly playing our usual games of crib right about midnight while all was quiet and serene. When suddenly there was the sound of heavy footsteps coming up the stairs and hesitating at the top. Then the door into the hallway opened and closed quite distinctly, and the footsteps continued down the hall and abruptly stopped outside our door.
     Very puzzled as to who it could be, since we were the only tenants and knowing that Byron was working nightshift at the mine, I got up and walked over to the door and opened it. There was no one there!!
     I'll try to explain the instant feeling that came over me. Even though there was no one, I had the very eerie feeling someone was looking at me. With absolute astonishment, and very alarmed, I closed the door, looking back at my wife, The look must have been amusing to her, because she burst out laughing as I stared at her. When I didn't join her amusement, her look sobered and I said, "There's nobody there!!"
     In disbelief, she came to the door and slowly opened it, cautiously peeking around the door. She quickly shoved it shut. As we stood there looking at each other and gathering our composure, a calmness came over us and we began to laugh. and then in no mood for sleep, sat back down to complete our game of cribbage, although pre-occupied by the event.
     The next morning, just as we were sitting down for breakfast early, we heard the footsteps again, and the repetition of the door opening and closing. This time I jumped up, went to the door and as the footsteps stopped outside our door, I yanked the door open, just to see Bill Jackman, a fellow surveyor. Without him having a chance to knock, it scared him out of his wits!! ( I thought he was going to faint!)
     Bill's car wouldn't start, and he had come to ask for a ride to work!
     After we both gathered our composure and, again having a good laugh, I told him about the night before.
     I finished my breakfast and we both headed off to work.
     We mentioned the happening to Byron a few days later and quite calmly, he said he had heard the same thing on occasion and had no explanation for it either, except to say he did embrace the bottle once in a while and blamed it on that, up to this point. We agreed then, it was actually happening.
     While realizing it was far more curious and amusing, rather than frightening, we agreed with him we would not mention it to prospective tenants for the other two apartments.
     The incident concerning the mysterious footsteps was to be a common event in later months and we referred to it as a visitation by "Casper, the friendly ghost." What was predictable, was the fact it always happened late at night or early morning, and it was always serene. There was no schedule aside from that.
     Eventually though, the time came when Byron finished off the second apartment next to us, and prospective renters came by. Coincidentally, the people that chose to rent it were a couple Darlene had known previously from her home town of Creston, several years before. A childless couple, Bruce and Liz Herick  moved in and settled down next to us. Bruce was a Cat operator on our job.( We honored Byron's request not to mention anything about "Casper.")
     It was unavoidable however, when one day, and only after it was heard again several times, that Bruce and Liz approached us, to ask if we had heard any mysterious footsteps late at night in the hallway. We openly discussed it then at that time, knowing the "Cat was out of the bag."
     Together, we all were amused and agreed to let it be a surprise to the third tenant, whomever that may be.
     It was soon to happen.
     Helmer Johnson and his wife Sonya, approximately in their late sixties moved into the third finished apartment. Helmer was the blasting foreman on our construction project so we were all familiar with each other and that made for a comfortable relationship all around.
     Again, several weeks passed and several "happenings" with "Casper" occurred. inevitably, Helmer and his wife met us one day in the hall and in the course of conversation, asked us the question; Had we heard any strange footsteps in the Hall in the ""still of the night?"
     After allowing them to explain the phenomena, it matched the same story we all had. And again, after some lighthearted discussion and amusement about it, agreed that since it was a friendly ghost, and unconcerned about our whereabouts, We shouldn't worry about his.
     Throughout the remaining time, and until the end of the relationship, that's the way it stayed.
     However, after some research into the history of the old hotel, it was determined that a man who was known to be a frequent customer of the hotel, and a prospector commonly known as "Pete the Packer", was murdered on the second floor of that establishment many years before.
    We then started to refer to the friendly "ghost" as that more suitable moniker. Just sayin'.