The Blue Ghost Mystery: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story

The field before them stretched dark and empty to the trees along the creek, except for the angular bulk of the plane. Rick watched and listened with every sense alert. Insects hummed now and then, but that was all.

"Let's get to the tree belt," Scotty said in a whisper. "We can watch both fields from there."

"Okay." Rick led the way at a half trot that covered ground rapidly. In a few minutes they were across the creek and among the trees. They slowed their pace, stopping now and then to listen. The dogs were still barking, but the noise came from far away, on the other side of the hill in which the mine was located.

Scotty took the lead as they approached the picnic grounds. He was noiseless as a shadow, and Rick tried hard to step exactly in his footprints to avoid any noise.

Using the great oaks for cover, Scotty moved to the picnic grounds, among the tables and stone cooking pits. Suddenly he took Rick's arm and squeezed. Rick stopped instantly, ready for whatever action was indicated.

Scotty put his lips to Rick's ear. "Look around the tree, on top of the mine in the upland cornfield. Be very careful."

Rick moved into position, then with extreme caution he peered around the protecting tree. The first thing he saw on the hill was the Blue Ghost, not in his apparition form, but as the human-headed light they had chased. Then he realized that he was also seeing a form under the light, a human shape silhouetted faintly against the dark sky!

He choked back an exclamation. There were two other shapes, unlighted, but clearly human. This was what the tenant farmer had seen! But what were they doing in the cornfield? In a moment it became clear. The three were coming his way!

Scotty squeezed his shoulder and pointed up. Rick realized suddenly that they were hiding behind the oak in which they had watched unsuccessfully for the Blue Ghost. He jumped for the lowest branch and quickly hauled himself into the protecting foliage. Scotty was close behind him.

Through openings in the foliage they saw the Blue Ghost make his way down the hillside with his two companions, saw the three pause at the basin in which the ghost made his public appearances. Rick shuddered as he heard soft, ghostly laughter. He was convinced that he watched three men, but the memory of the bitter, burning cold on his face was still too fresh and green not to feel a reaction.

The ghostly trio continued down the slope to the picnic grounds and turned to the road that led to the bridge. Rick would have given much for enough moonlight to see details, but he could see only the three vague shapes. He thought the figure with the softly lighted apparatus on his head carried something in one hand, but he wasn't sure.

Not until the trio passed out of sight behind the trees did the boys descend from the tree, then they paused for a whispered consultation that couldn't have been heard three feet away.

"They must be heading for the field where the plane is parked," Rick guessed. "We want to keep an eye on them."

"That we will," Scotty assured him. "Follow me, old son. We're making real progress tonight!"

Scotty led the way through the tree belt to the bank of the creek. He paused in the trees long enough to be sure the ghost trio had crossed the creek, then picked positions behind the earthworks erected by Confederate soldiers long ago.

Rick watched the ghosts – for he thought of them by that useful term even though he now knew they were mortal – as they walked slowly across the field. He saw them pause, and saw the dark figures shorten as they bent over. He took a bearing on the spot, using the dim shape of his plane for one reference and the bridge for another. He thought he could locate the position again by daylight.

In a moment the three moved on again, while Rick watched, puzzled. He felt Scotty move and put his head close to hear what his pal had to say. "They had to come from somewhere, and I suspect it was by car. They didn't come up the road to town, so they must have used the road in the valley on the other side of the hill. I'm going to take a look. If there's a car there, I can at least get a license number. You watch 'em. If I'm not back by the time they cross to this side, don't worry. I won't get caught. Just go on home and wait for me."

Rick whispered an okay, and Scotty melted into the night with the noiseless skill that Rick so much admired. Then he turned his attention to the ghosts once more.

Rick counted five stops in various parts of the field. After the last one, the trio turned, recrossed the bridge, moving briskly, climbed the hill, and disappeared into the cornfield. Mission accomplished, apparently. What had the mission been?

According to Belsely, this happened each time, except for the occasion when a cart had been used. What were they hunting? Or, if they weren't hunting, what were they doing? Rick felt frustrated. To be so close, yet to be unable to see anything but vague shapes in the darkness!

Tomorrow he and Scotty would search both fields in an effort to find what the Blue Ghost sought, or to try to figure out what he and his friends were doing.

Scotty caught up with him as he was crossing the field by his plane. The dark-haired boy was triumphant. "They had a car, all right, and the registration was in a container on the steering wheel. I've got all the dope. Probably I shouldn't have done it, but I sneaked a quick look at the name. Can you imagine what it is?"

"Jethro Collins?"

"Nope. It's Hilleboe. Dr. Miller's next-door neighbor!"

CHAPTER XIV

The Cold, Cold Clue

The boys were late to breakfast the following morning. They had fallen into bed, pleased and exhausted, and the noise of the household stirring had failed to waken them.

Mrs. Miller greeted them as they came downstairs. "I hear you were ghost hunting again last night. Did you find any?"

"I'll say we did," Scotty replied. "Where is Dr. Miller?"

"Right here," the scientist said from the living-room doorway. "And I have news for you. Collins called this morning and renewed his offer. I told him I'd think about it and let him know later. And Steve Ames called. The powder is definitely carnotite, and it matches ore produced on the Colorado Plateau. Steve has reported to the Atomic Energy Commission, and they'll be able to track down its origin without too much difficulty, since no two ores are precisely alike. Now, how did you two do last night?"

The two girls came into the kitchen in time to hear the question, and Rick almost hated to give the answer, knowing that it would disillusion them, and particularly Barby.

"We trailed three ghosts," he said. "All human."

Scotty added, "And one of them was named Carleton Hilleboe. At least that was the name on the registration of their car."

They told the story in detail while Mrs. Miller and Jan fried eggs and bacon and made toast for their breakfast. Barby listened quietly, but if Rick had any idea she would be convinced, he was mistaken. When the recital ended she pointed out, "There's no reason why mortals shouldn't take advantage of a ghost. You still haven't proved that the ghost at the mine isn't real, or how the cold almost knocked you out last night."

"True," Rick had to admit. "We're not making much progress there."

Over breakfast Dr. Miller told them about the Hilleboes. "They were one of the big families in this vicinity two or three decades ago. They had the biggest house in this part of Virginia, but it burned down about twenty years ago and the kids moved away. There is no house on their land now. They rent some of the land to tenants. Carleton Hilleboe is the eldest son. He's in a business of some kind in Washington. He either controls or owns the property, I'm not sure which."

"Including the upland cornfield above the mine?" Rick asked.

"Yes, and all the property to the east of ours for a mile or two."

"Could he be the mysterious buyer Collins is acting for?" Rick asked.

"It's possible, although why he would want our share of the mine and the field opposite is beyond me. I think a talk with Collins is in order. If you two want to come to town with me, I think I'll beard him in his den. I've no intention of selling, but I won't tell him that."

On the way to town the boys agreed it would be best for Dr. Miller to talk with Collins alone. He obviously didn't like young people – at least them – and he would be more apt to confide in Dr. Miller if the scientist interviewed him alone.

The scientist agreed. "Why don't you two wait in the drugstore? You can have a coke or something."

Dr. Miller parked the car in front of Collins' house and the boys crossed the street to the drugstore. Although it was early in the day, both ordered a dish of ice cream. They were eating it and exchanging small talk with the druggist when the Frostola scooter pulled up outside. Both tensed as the Frostola man came in, but he greeted them impersonally and turned to the druggist. "I'd like a tin of aspirin, please."

"That infected hangnail still bothering you?" the druggist asked sympathetically.

"No, it's okay today," the peddler answered swiftly. "I've got a slight headache, that's all."

He paid for the aspirin, accepted the druggist's offer of a glass of water, downed two pills, and left.

"Seemed in a hurry," Rick commented.

The druggist nodded. "Seemed so. He usually stops to pass the time of day. Had a terrible time yesterday with an infected hangnail. They can be pretty painful. I tried to sell him a new analgesic ointment, but he insisted on methyl chloride. He had an old refillable prescription from some doctor over in Arlington. Said he got it because infected hangnails bother him all the time. Lucky I had some. It used to be used all the time for pain from superficial wounds, but it went out of style. He bought a whole pint. Enough to last for fifty hangnails. Told him he didn't need it, but he insisted."

Rick said thoughtfully, "His hands seemed to be all right today. No bandages."

"All he had was a plastic-tape bandage around his thumb yesterday, anyway. Guess the infection must have cleared up."