CHAPTER XI
The Ghost Reappears
Belsely, the tenant farmer, had no difficulty in establishing aconnection between Jethro Collins, real-estate agent, and the Frostolaman. He made a quick trip to town on the morning following the flight toFalls Church, and reported that the ice-cream vendor was renting a roomfrom Collins.
"No doubt about that connection," was Rick's comment. Then, because theyhad not talked to Belsely at any length, he questioned the farmer aboutthe appearances of the ghost in the fields nearby.
"I've seen him four or five times, not counting the night you chasedhim," the farmer said. "Funny thing about the night he got the alarmgoing on your plane."
"What was funny?" Scotty asked.
"He was alone."
"But he's always alone," Rick exclaimed.
"Nope. He's alone at the mine, but when he walks the fields he has someof his men with him. Sometimes one, sometimes two or three. Only saw himalone that once--the night you chased him."
This was a new angle. Rick and Scotty looked at each other, puzzled.
"You've seen the others?" Scotty asked.
"Sure have. Not close to, you can bet. Got no wish to tangle withspirits, not me. But I saw them. They walked in the cornfield on top ofthe mine hill, and they walked in the field where your plane is. Theywas lookin' for somethin'."
"How do you know?" Rick demanded.
"They'd walk, then stop, and bend over. Like they were searchin' theground. Bet one of 'em lost a head and is huntin' for it."
"Did you see where they came from, or went to?"
"Not me. I got curiosity, but not the kind that killed that cat theytell about. Like I say, me and spirits don't mix, none to speak of."
Rick pondered the information. "Are these ghostly walks at nineo'clock?"
"No. Mostly around midnight."
Rick turned to Scotty. "What do you make of that?"
"Nothing," Scotty replied. "Not a thing. You say you've seen as many asthree men plus the Blue Ghost?"
"That's correct. None of them shine like the Blue Ghost himself, though.Most curious thing I ever saw was the night they pulled a wagon,collectin' the invisible dead from the battlefield."
Rick's hair had an impulse to stand on end. The calm, factual way inwhich the tenant farmer piled mystery on mystery was incredible.
"You mean you saw ghosts pulling a ghost wagon?" the boy askedincredulously.
"Like I said. More a cart than a wagon, I suppose you'd say. They hauledit back and forth, and the mist trailed out behind it. Once in a whilethey'd stop and gather and look at the ground. Must be they weresearchin' for their dead. Don't know why else they'd need a wagon. Andthat Blue Thing leadin' the way every time. Up and down, back andforth."
Scotty asked, "Where were you while all this was going on?"
"In the orchard, scared pink, but not so scared as curious."
A man of real courage, Rick thought. Believed in ghosts, but had thenerve to watch them in action. "Mr. Belsely, you said none of them shonelike the Blue Ghost. Did the others look solid?"
"They were dark shadows, that's all. No moon to see by, or at least notenough. Couldn't make out what they looked like."
"Has anyone else seen them in the fields?" Scotty wanted to know.
"Sure enough. Two or three that I know of, maybe more."
The tenant farmer paused, then asked a question of his own. "Why are youso interested in this new ice-cream man?"
Rick considered. "He interested us," he said finally. "He's not aVirginian. And he didn't seem to know much about the ghost."
Belsely's comment brought Rick's carefully built up assumptions tumblingdown around his ears. "Oh, he knows about the ghost, all right. He sawit once that I know of, when he was sellin' ice cream to the girlcampers." The farmer added, "I was standin' right next to him at thetime."
Rick looked at Scotty helplessly. "Thank you, Mr. Belsely," he saidunhappily. "You've certainly given us plenty to think about!"
The boys watched as the tenant farmer walked up the road to his ownhouse, as solid and dependable as the very earth he walked on. There wasno arguing with what he had seen, only with his interpretation of it.Clearly, Rick thought, he had seen figures in the fields on severaloccasions. But what had the figures actually been doing?
"Don't be too discouraged," Scotty offered. "The ice-cream man seeingthe ghost doesn't mean he isn't involved. Wasn't the girls' picnic thefirst time the ghost made a public appearance? He may have been checkingon the way the ghost looked."
"What do you suppose Belsely was doing there?" Rick asked.
"Probably just wandered over to see what was going on. I've noticedpeople are pretty casual about the affairs over there. No reason whyBelsely wouldn't take an evening stroll to see how the party was going."
"Well keep our plan," Rick decided. "It's the only lead we have, so we'dbetter use it."
By the time the Sons of the Old Dominion started to arrive for theannual feast, the boys were in their chosen position, upstream from themine at a point where they couldn't fail to see all who traveled theroad, but where no one could see them through the thick screen offoliage.
They had applied insect repellent liberally, but the insects swarmedaround them anyway, although bites were few. They lay quietly andwatched car after car arrive, but without seeing a familiar face.
During a lull in the traffic Rick asked, "Do you suppose we got here toolate? He may have come earlier."
"I doubt it. Besides, where would he have parked his scooter? It isn'tanywhere between us and the mine because we looked, and I doubt thathe'd walk any farther than this."
Rick had to agree that it wouldn't make much sense to park the vehicleany farther away than the spot they had selected from which to watch.
The traffic ceased. All Sons of the Old Dominion apparently had arrived,and all were presumably feasting on good food. It was only eighto'clock; the ghost wasn't due for an hour. Rick thought an hour wasprobably more than the ghost producer needed to get ready for hisappearance. Only a few minutes might be needed. That meant he and Scottywould have to wait until a few minutes before nine, to be sure no oneslipped by.
One late arrival roared past as they waited, and then all was quiet. Atten minutes to nine Rick admitted defeat. "Either he isn't coming, or hegot there through the fields. Let's go see if he shows up."
As they hiked down the road, ears attuned for a motor vehicle behindthem, Rick explained his theory of ghost production to Scotty. "There'sonly one way a transparent spook can be produced, and that's optically.In the movies they use a double exposure. The only way to produce anoptical image on mist is with a projector of some kind."
"Spook projector," Scotty agreed. "Only where is this projectorlocated?"
That, Rick pointed out, was the prize-winning question. "All we can dois keep an eye open for the projector beam."
"Both eyes," Scotty corrected.
It was one minute before nine when they arrived at the mine entrance.The Sons of the Old Dominion were still eating, but there was a lack ofnoise or joyousness that made Rick aware that the Sons knew about theghost. He saw groups facing the place where the ghost would appear.
The boys were in front of the mine entrance. By unspoken agreement theymoved to a position directly in front of the pool. If the ghostappeared, it would be almost over their heads. The shelf was too highfor them to see into the water, but they were in a position where anyhuman activity couldn't possibly be overlooked.
"On your toes," Scotty whispered. "Let's rush it while the Blue Ghost isstill there."
Rick swallowed hard. In spite of his conviction that a human agency, andnot a supernatural one, produced the Blue Ghost, he didn't care much forrushing right into the apparition. In fact, he didn't like it at all.The mist had felt clammy the first time, even though no harm had come tothem. But, he told himself sternly, Scotty was right. They either hadfaith in their assumptions or they didn't.
"Wait until the show is alm
ost over," Rick whispered.
A voice from behind them called, "Better get out of there, you two.That's where the ghost appears."
The boys turned to reassure their well-wisher, and in that moment a sighwent up from the crowd. Rick heard a sudden splash, and then the whitemist was rising, billowing almost over their heads!
He watched, fascinated and scared, and saw the Blue Ghost appear. Theapparition was elongated from Rick's viewpoint, but the act was thesame. The boy saw no sign of a projector beam, no sign of any humanagency, and the lack of both turned his knees to water. He wasclose--very close--yet he could detect no sign of human origin in thething overhead. Horror swept through him. Had he been wrong, he andScotty?
His pal's hand fell sharply on his back. "Let's get him, boy! Let's findout for once and all!"
Somehow he got his legs moving. He and Scotty went up the steep slope,scrambling right toward the thing that was now holding out bloody hands!
They were in the mist! Rick sensed the blueness around him, and withsick horror realized that the ghost continued his act as though theywere not even there.
Scotty yelled, and in the same instant sharp pain swept across Rick'sface. Bitter, terrible cold encompassed him, turned the skin on his facerigid, seared his eyeballs with cold so intense it was like burningheat. He staggered and fell, hands clutching his frozen face. He triedto yell for help and couldn't. He rolled down the hillside that he hadclimbed seconds before, and Scotty's falling body crashed into him,knocked the breath from him.
And overhead, the vision of the Union cavalry officer, face distorted inagony, faded slowly from sight, leaving only the icy, billowing mist.