Copper Coleson's Ghost
CHAPTER XVIII THE APPARITION AT THE DANCE
Ned Blake found himself still in a very uncertain state of mind, when heawoke at noon of the following day. After a meal which was a combinationof breakfast and lunch, he set out for Dave Wilbur’s, only to be methalf-way by Tommy Beals and Dick Somers with the news that Dave was sickin bed with a hard cold.
“He can’t speak above a whisper,” declared Tommy, who had been admittedto the bedside of the patient. “His mother says he’s got to stay in bedall day, and I guess that’s the proper dope, if we want him to be withus for tomorrow night’s dance.”
“What did you fellows find out there last night?” asked Dick. “I thoughtof you when I heard the rain pelting down. Did the shanty leak?”
“I can’t answer that,” laughed Ned. “Dave and I didn’t enjoy the comfortof the shanty—we let the other fellow have it.”
“What fellow—for the love of Mike!” cried Charlie Rogers, who had joinedthe group in time to hear Ned’s words.
“That’s _another_ one I can’t answer,” replied Ned quite truthfully, andhe proceeded to recount in some detail the adventures of the previousnight, omitting, however, all reference to his discovery of Latrobe.
“I’d give a million dollars to know what this is all about!” exclaimedRogers. “Of course, we want to keep on with our stuff, but I’d hate toget into a jam with a bunch of _roughnecks_.”
This was exactly what Ned had feared, and he determined then and thereto keep to himself—for the present at least—his knowledge of theidentity of _one_ of the “roughnecks.” Red Rogers was anything but acoward, and if he showed signs of wavering, there would be slight hopeof keeping fellows like Jim Tapley and Wat Sanford in line. All the restof that day, and much of the following, Ned devoted himself to makingcautious inquiries concerning Latrobe, but beyond some evidence of theman’s unsavory reputation little or nothing could be learned.
“I’ll take a chance on tonight’s dance anyhow,” soliloquized Ned. “Afterit’s over, I’ll tell the boys what I know and let them decide what todo.”
Saturday night found the youthful population of Truesdell on tiptoe withexpectation. Everyone who had attended the first “haunted” dance waseager to learn what new thrill lay in store for them, and those who hadnot been present on the opening night were doubly anxious to make up fortheir unfortunate omission by taking an especially active part in thissecond festivity. A considerable number of older people joined thecrowd, ostensibly as chaperones for their daughters, but actually with asecret desire to learn what it was all about. The boys were early on thescene, including Dave Wilbur, who had recovered sufficiently to do hispart although his voice sounded not much unlike the drawling croak of abullfrog.
“Whew!” gasped Tommy Beals, as he stood just inside the front door ofthe Coleson house and ran his handkerchief around inside his wiltedcollar. “I’ve taken in ninety-five admissions and answered a couple ofhundred questions about ghosts, and the crowd is still coming!”
“I’m hoping we have enough eats and drinks for this mob,” remarked WatSanford, who, in Sam’s absence, was preparing the refreshments. “IfFatty wilts just taking tickets and answering questions, I pity him whenhe starts passing out ice cream.”
“I wish we had fixed up a few good ghost stunts for tonight,” saidCharlie Rogers, as he stood beside Ned watching the couples pour in atthe front door. “This crowd is all keyed up for a wild time and I’d hateto see ’em disappointed—as they will be if nothing happens.”
“What’s worrying me is the fear that too _much_ may happen,” repliedNed, anxiously.
“Meaning what?” queried Rogers.
“Well,” resumed Ned, “you and Fatty got a pretty good-sized scare thenight you were out here, and Dick and I saw enough to keep us wonderingever since.”
“Yes, I was scared all right,” admitted Rogers, “—just the two of ushere alone, you know—but with all this gang here you don’t think that—”and Rogers paused for want of just the right words to express his doubt.
“I don’t know what to think,” was the sober reply. “The whole thingseems impossible—and yet it has happened. One thing I’m sure of: thereisn’t going to be room much longer on these premises for us and forwhoever or whatever else is trying to occupy them. As you say, Red, thiscrowd has been led to expect some weird stuff and yet it might easily bethrown into a panic, which would mean the end of things for us. You andFatty and Dick and I have seen enough to make us certain that somethingmore than child’s play is going on around here. What it is or what itwill lead to, I can’t even guess, but I’ll admit I’m worried.”
“Me, too,” grumbled Dick Somers, who had joined the other two in time tohear Ned’s words. “Why, hang it! somebody might take a crazy notion toblow up the whole shebang—same as Eli Coleson blew up his old farm housewhen he wanted to build this one.”
“Coleson!” muttered Rogers under his breath. “You don’t suppose—”
“Come on, you fellows!” interrupted Jim Tapley, striking a chord on thepiano. “It’s eight o’clock. Let’s tune up and get going!”
The dance was quickly under way, and for several hours the whirl ofgaiety continued with nothing more ghostly to offer than the paintedballoons and black paper cats. As midnight drew near, the orchestraconcluded a peppy fox-trot and made ready to close with the usualwailing syncopation of “Home, Sweet Home.”
“I guess you had your worry for nothing, Ned,” whispered Charlie Rogers.“In fact, the thing has been almost too tame. Don’t you think so?”
“Maybe it has,” began Ned, “but just the same I—”
His words were cut short by a shriek which arose from a group on theporch. Half a dozen frightened girls came plunging in through thedoorway, which was instantly jammed with excited people, some makingfrantic efforts to get inside and away from something, while othersstruggled in an attempt to get out and see what had happened. Forseveral minutes confusion reigned, but the braver spirits who had beeninvestigating outside soon returned with the report that they could findnothing to cause alarm. Of the group which had been upon the porch, onlya few claimed actually to have seen anything, but these were unshaken intheir statement that a shadowy figure had appeared at the corner of thehouse nearest to the woods.
Charlie Rogers and Tommy Beals exchanged a half-frightened glance,suggestive of their belief in this story; but of the dancers, nearlyeverybody considered it either an hallucination or at most a joke, andas the strains of the final number arose, the dance was resumed andcarried to its completion without further interruption. The foremost ofthe departing crowd had reached the line of parked cars and the restwere streaming out across the porch when their gay chatter was silencedby a sudden cry.
“There it is again! Look! Look! There, by the corner of the house!”
All eyes turned in the direction indicated and saw outlined in thedimness a shadowy figure standing motionless. For perhaps five secondsnobody spoke or moved; then an occupant of one of the automobilesswitched on a headlight and the vivid glare disclosed the form of a manwith a long white beard who bore upon his shoulder what appeared to be apickax.
As the blinding light flashed upon it, the apparition threw up an arm asif to shield its eyes, took a step forward, and dropping the pick fromits shoulder, struck it into the ground.
At the first cry of alarm, Ned Blake had rushed out upon the porchclosely followed by Dick Somers, and as the weird figure raised its pickfor a second swing, both boys sprang from the porch and dashed directlytoward the ghostly visitant. For an instant the figure seemed tohesitate; then it turned swiftly and vanished round the corner of thehouse.
Ned Blake and Dick Somers turned the corner in a breathless rush. Beforethem lay the open stretch of sand, extending from the end of the houseto the fringe of bushes some thirty yards distant. Above the line oftrees the late moon hung in the eastern sky, shedding a soft light bywhich the boys saw clearly the stretch of sa
nd, the fringing bushes, thefoundation wall of the house—and nothing else.
“It’s gone!” gasped Ned, staring with unbelieving eyes at the spacebefore him.
“Yes, but where?” cried Dick. “We weren’t five seconds behind when itturned this corner, and there isn’t cover enough between here and thewoods for a rabbit to hide in!”
Emboldened by the example of Ned and Dick, several of the men and boyscame hurrying forward. Somebody produced a flashlight by means of whicha careful search of the vicinity was made but without result. Borrowingthe light, Ned made a minute examination of the ground along thefoundation wall. The surface was littered with fragments of slate fromthe roof, but ten feet from the corner of the house a bare patch of sandshowed amid the debris and upon this small yellow area a faint markcaught Ned’s eye. With a quick sweep of his hand he effaced theimpression and after a few minutes of further search, returned theflashlight to its owner.
“Of course it’s all a hoax,” declared a gentleman, who had kept well inthe background while the search was in progress.
“That’s right,” agreed a second, “I guess those two lads had some handin it—else they wouldn’t have rushed forward the way they did.”
“Well, if it was a trick, I’ll call it a clever one and mighty wellcarried out,” remarked another, as he returned to his car when the hunthad finally been abandoned.
This seemed to be the general opinion among the guests as they slowlydispersed. Jim Tapley and Wat Sanford had accepted invitations to ridehome with friends and made a hasty departure, leaving the other boys tolock up the house and return in Dave Wilbur’s flivver. As the last ofthe departing cars went honking down the drive, Ned Blake turned to hisfour companions.
“Fellows,” he began in a voice that betrayed his suppressed excitement,“I found something out there at the end of the house that I didn’tmention at the time!”
“What was it?” asked Beals.
“It was a footprint!” replied Ned.
“Yeah, I saw a hundred of ’em,” drawled Dave Wilbur. “Half the dancecrowd walked all over that stretch of sand.”
“The footprint I saw wasn’t made by a dancing shoe,” replied Ned. “Itwas made by a rubber sole.”
“That’s what we found outside Sam’s window!” cried Dick.
“And as nearly as I could see with the flashlight, it was a print of thesame shoe,” was Ned’s calm response.
“Whew! If that’s a fact, why I feel like apologizing to Sam!” mumbledTommy. “I don’t wonder he was scared!”
“What do you make of it, Ned?” asked Charlie Rogers.
Ned Blake turned and walked to the door to gaze with troubled eyes outupon the moonlit strip of sand, beyond which the line of scrubby oakslay dim and shadowy. In a moment he again faced the group who werewatching him curiously. “Fellows, there’s something I’ve got to tell youbefore we go any further with this business.” Ned paused as if to choosehis words and continued. “We’ve been trying to find the answer to twoquestions, namely, _who_ and _why_. The night Dave and I watched the oldroad I settled the first question, and the answer is—Latrobe!”
For a few minutes after this disclosure, the excited questioning keptNed busy recounting such meager facts as were in his possession. “Idon’t need to tell you fellows that any business we may try to carry onagainst Latrobe’s wishes is likely to be hard going—if not actuallydangerous.” was Ned’s final comment.
“What do you propose?” asked Rogers.
Ned’s answer was prompt. “Somebody started something out here a fewminutes ago. I’m wondering how many of us are game to finish out thenight right here and see what else may happen.”
“Count on me for one,” was Dick’s quick reply.
Rogers and Beals, after an exchange of questioning glances, declaredtheir willingness to remain.
“Oh, all right. I’ll stick around with you,” croaked Dave Wilbur, “thatis, I will if I can stay inside, but when it comes to another night ofcamping on the cold, cold ground, there’s nothing doing.”
“That’s all right, Dave,” agreed Ned. “We’ll make you inside sentry,”and without further loss of time, Wilbur set about arranging a row ofchairs upon which he stretched his lanky frame.
“Now, fellows,” continued Ned, “this is what I propose: Red and Fattywill hide in that clump of oaks beyond the driveway and watch the frontand west end of the house. Dick and I will guard the rear side and theeast end. If either party sees or hears anything suspicious, follow itup and yell a plenty if help is needed. We’ll try to capture thisrubber-soled ghost, if he shows himself again.”