CHAPTER IV
The Old Mine
Rick, Scotty, and the two girls stood in silence and surveyed the scenebefore them. They stood on the brow of the hill, looking down at thepicnic ground, at the trees under which they had stood and watched ahair-raising apparition the night before.
Even in daylight the place somehow seemed eerie to Rick. The sun wasshining brightly and birds came and went without fear or interference ontheir normal business of gathering food. A slight breeze ruffled thefoliage of the oak trees.
It was a fine, normal Virginia summer day, with no trace of thesupernormal or weird about it. Yet, Rick felt somewhat less thanrelaxed, and he certainly felt puzzled.
Directly below them the pool created by the flow of spring waterglistened in the sunlight. Between their feet and the pool was solidrock, with only a few weeds struggling for life in an occasional crack.
"This is going to be a tough nut to crack," Rick stated. "Look at thatrock wall. Obviously, we'd have seen anything living that tried to climbdown it, even in the darkness. If anyone had been standing up here, he'dhave been silhouetted against the sky."
"There was no one on the hill last night," Scotty said positively. "Ilooked at every inch of it."
Barby listened to the exchange with an exasperated expression on herface. "Can't you two believe the evidence of your own eyes? The BlueGhost appeared right under where we're standing. You can see foryourselves that nothing could be hidden by anyone to make a ghostappear. Besides, it was too real to be a trick."
"It was a ghost," Jan Miller said with quiet conviction. "Everyone hasalways known there was a ghost here."
Scotty shook his head. "Everyone has always known there were ghosts in ahundred places, if you want to consider all the folklore about spooks. Afew people have even claimed to have seen one. But who ever heard of ahaunt that put on nightly performances?"
"You have now," Barby said flatly.
"Maybe," Rick said. He didn't know why he was still skeptical. Theapparition had been really blood-curdling in its apparent realness, buthe still wasn't ready to buy a supernatural explanation.
Jan Miller replied with an appropriate quote from William Shakespeare."There are more things in heaven and on earth than are dreamed of in thyphilosophy, Horatio Brant!"
Rick grinned. "That's true. No one knows better than I how ignorant Iam. I can only say that I'm trying to learn. Let's climb down and lookat the pool."
He led the way down the rocky slope to where the rusted iron pipe juttedfrom the side of the Hill, a thin trickle of water dripping constantlyinto the pool below. The pool was actually a catch basin in the rock.
Rick examined the pipe. It was ordinary, rusted but still sound. It heldno secrets that he could see. He held his mouth under it and tasted thewater. It was cold and good, typical spring water, with the taste ofminerals in it. He knew from Dr. Miller that it was good to drink.Picnickers used it regularly.
"Expect evidence to float out with the water?" Barby asked.
"Never can tell," Rick said, unperturbed. His sister, even more than JanMiller, was an incurable romantic. If the ghost turned out to besomething other than the pitiful shade of Captain Costin, she would bebitterly disappointed, Rick knew.
He got down on his knees, Scotty beside him, and they probed in thewater of the rocky basin with their hands. There was a layer of brownalgae in the bottom, which was to be expected. It looked dead, but whenRick scraped it, there was green underneath the brown.
Scotty took out his jackknife and probed with the largest blade.Clearly, there was nothing in the basin but a solid rock bottom.
The boys' eyes met. "The pool bubbled a little last night," Rickrecalled.
Scotty nodded. "I saw it, too. But there's nothing there to make itbubble."
Jan Miller shuddered. "I almost died when you two idiots scrambled uphere. You went right into that awful mist!"
Rick remembered the icy tendril that had curled around his face and alittle chill went through him. "It was cool," he said. "At least theBlue Ghost isn't warm. Maybe he's blue with cold."
Scotty used his jackknife to probe at cracks in the rocky hillside. Itwas seamed with them, but he found nothing unusual. "I give up," thedark-haired boy said, his face showing his bewilderment. "There'sabsolutely nothing here. So where did the ghost come from?"
"Where does any ghost come from?" Rick asked. "Same place." Theirinspection should have settled it, but he wasn't ready to quit yet. Togive up would mean admitting that the Blue Ghost was really a spook. Hemight have to admit it eventually, but not until all avenues ofinvestigation were closed.
"Now what?" Scotty asked.
"Let's look around some more."
Barby thought this was nonsense and let them know it. "You two can prowlaround all you want to," she said. "But I'm not going to get an overdoseof sun spook hunting on the rocks. Coming, Jan?"
"Lunch at noon sharp," Jan reminded the boys. "We'll go help Mother.Good luck."
Rick and Scotty watched them go, then sat down next to the pool.
"What's on your mind?" Scotty asked.
Rick shrugged. "Nothing. I haven't the ghost of an idea about thisghost."
"It was pretty real," Scotty remembered.
"Too true." It was so real that Rick almost believed in it. But he wasbothered by a vague feeling that something was wrong.
"Look, Scotty. I've read plenty of ghost stories, and I've read the bookby Charles Fort that Dad has in the library. Nothing was ever said aboutthis kind of ghost. I mean, a ghost that went in for public appearancespromptly at nine whenever he had an audience. Of course, there's no rulethat says a ghost has to behave in any definite way, but this is too ...well, it's too perfect, if you know what I mean."
"I do. It's almost like a show, isn't it?"
"That's it. It's a performance more than an appearance, if there's anydistinction. The ghost did exactly what he's been doing. Same act."
Scotty grinned. "Why not? The act is part of the legend, and it's apretty convincing one."
Rick cocked an eyebrow at him. "Whose side are you on? The ghost's ormine?"
"I have an open mind," Scotty explained.
The phrase rang a bell in Rick's head. Open mind--open _mine_. Couldthere be some connection between the abandoned mine and the ghost? Afterall, the shaft was almost under them. He broached the idea to Scotty.
His pal rose. "Nothing like finding out. Are you for it?"
"I'm for it. Can we get in?"
"We'll soon see."
The boys scrambled down the hill and inspected the entrance. Boards hadbeen nailed across the timbered opening, but the nails were rusted andthe boards weathered. They could get in simply by pulling the boardsloose.
"How about light?" Scotty asked. "We didn't bring a flashlight."
"We can do that later. Right now let's take a look at the entrance. Thatwill tell us if there has been any traffic around."
The boards came off easily with the screech of old nails pulling loose.In a few moments enough boards were pulled away to allow them to enteron hands and knees. A top board was pulled off to admit light, and theywent in together, inspecting the ground closely.
"No sign of visitors," Scotty said. "Look at the dust. It hasn't beendisturbed for a half century."
Rick thought his pal probably was right about the length of time. Thedust was fine, and thick. No human tracks disturbed it, but the boys sawthe delicate tracery where a small animal, probably a field mouse or achipmunk, had left his spoor.
The tunnel was about eight feet high and wide enough for three people towalk abreast. Probably the lead ore had been taken out in carts when themine was in use.
The shaft went straight in, past the range of light filtering in fromthe entrance. Nowhere was there a sign of human occupancy or activity,except for the ancient marks on the tunnel walls made by tools in thehands of miners long dead.
"Nothing here," Rick said, and his voice was lost in the emptiness ofthe shaft.
/> Scotty grunted. "Another dead end. Okay, where did the ghost come from?"
Rick didn't know. He couldn't even imagine. He puzzled over it as theywalked outside, then suddenly snapped his fingers. "Did you see any signof water in there? Or a pipe?"
"No. It was dry. No pipes. Why?"
"How was the original artesian well driven? Right into the hillside? Ifso, why didn't the mine tunnel strike water?"
Scotty scratched his chin. "Now that you mention it, I haven't thefaintest idea. Have you?"
"Negative. I can't ever remember having so few ideas. But it's strange.We'll have to ask Dr. Miller about it."
"Maybe the answer is deeper in the mine," Scotty replied. "Let's go backand see."
Rick reminded him that they had no lights. "I suppose we could maketorches out of junk from the trash cans."
"Easy, if we can find some newspapers."
There were several trash cans spotted around the picnic area, and it wasindicative of the kind of neat people in the vicinity that they wereused. There was no litter.
The second can yielded two entire newspapers, one a bulky edition of aWashington paper, the other a ten-page local sheet. The boys split thepapers evenly, then rolled them tightly. They frayed one end with ajackknife to make the torch.
"Got a match?" Rick asked.
Scotty looked at him blankly, then grinned. "No, have you?"
"No match, no flint or steel, no ... hey, wait! I've got a pocket lens!"
Rick's enthusiasm for microscopy had extended to the purchase of atwelve-power pocket lens to supplement the microscope Barby had givenhim. The pocket lens was used for examining specimens before taking themhome for closer scrutiny under the more powerful instrument. Rick hadnot yet gotten used to carrying the small lens and had forgotten ituntil the need for a burning glass arose.
He took the lens from his watch pocket and unfolded it from theprotective metal case. It focused the sun's rays to a pinpoint ofintense light and heat, and the charred paper then burst into a tinyflame. Rick blew the flame into life, then put his lens back forsafekeeping.
"Nothing like the scientific method," he told his pal. "Who needsmatches? Come on. Let's burn that ghost out of there."
Scotty grinned. "Nothing like luck," he corrected. "Okay, I'm rightbehind you."
They retraced their steps into the mine. Rick noted as they went throughthe entrance that the old mine timbers were pretty well rotted through.He guessed that the mine had been boarded up because it was unsafe. Heand Scotty would have to be careful.
In a few moments they were in deep gloom, only the smoky, fitful flickerof Rick's torch giving them light enough to see by. The newspaper wasn'tburning very well, probably because he had rolled it too tightly. Theycould see only a trace of daylight.
The old shaft turned at nearly right angles where a geological fault hadforced the Civil War miners to change directions in order to follow thevein of good ore. The turn cut off most of the light, except for thewaning flicker of Rick's torch. Scotty hurriedly held his own torch tothe flame to light it.
Rick was never sure what happened at that point, whether Scotty's torchpushed too hard and extinguished his own, or whether a sudden icy windblew through the mine shaft. He knew only that they were instantly indarkness, while faraway ghostly laughter echoed in their ears!