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

"We don't know of any," Rick said.

"Looks like I might as well go back to town, then. Want a lift? You can hang onto the step behind me."

"No, thanks," Scotty replied. "We're staying just over the hill."

The Frostola man turned his scooter wagon, gave them a wave, and went on his way back toward town. The boys watched until he drove out of sight.

"There's an optimist," Scotty said. "Follows a pair of ruts, hoping to find civilization at the other end."

Rick grinned. "He certainly likes this part of Virginia. There's one thing about peddling Frostola here – "

"What's that?"

"No customers to bother you. It's easy to commune with Nature."

"Aye-aye. Does he look like a nature lover to you?"

"Now that you mention it, I've seen people who fitted the part better. We scared him away, that's for sure. But what was he doing here?"

Scotty considered. "If he wanted to reach the mine area without people noticing him, he could park his scooter here and walk over the hill."

"He could," Rick agreed. "But why would he want to reach the mine area?"

"Not to sell Frostola. That's for sure."

"Uh-uh. My guess is he has to reset the Blue Ghost."

"Reset it?"

"Sure. Think about it. The projector can't go on operating forever when a clock reaches nine, can it? It must need servicing and resetting."

"And loading with methyl chloride to squirt at us?"

"Too true." Rick had wondered about that. "But how does the chemical squirter work? Where is it? The projector must be close to the Blue Ghost, if the chemical came from the same place."

Scotty laughed. "You don't discourage easily, do you? We tried to find a projector beam the other night, remember? What did we get for it? A squirt in the face. No projector, no nothing."

"There has to be a projector, or an imagemaker of some kind," Rick insisted, "unless you're admitting the ghost is real."

"Where would it be located?"

"Very close, I'd guess. Hidden somewhere near the spring pool, batteries and all. It has to be, and I think we'd better spend some time looking."

"Starting where? Don't tell me – it has to be the mine."

Rick was already walking back up the hill toward the cornfield. "There's no other underground location in which a projector could be stored, is there? So let's get at it."

"Glad we brought flashlights," was Scotty's only comment.

They hiked in silence to the cornfield, pausing now and then among the corn plants to examine footprints. Thanks to the rain that had left the ground soft, there were plenty of them, but they told the boys no more than they already knew.

At the top of the hill above the mine they paused to survey the scene. Belsely was hauling a load of rock through the field near the plane, using his tractor and a stoneboat. The boys knew he was busy building a stone fence. He saw them and waved. They waved back, then went down the hill to the spring and its basin.

Again they examined the entire location with great care, and Scotty probed seams in the rock with his jackknife blade. The entire hillside in this location was cracked and seamed and the rock face above the basin was rough and irregular. Rick wondered if there had ever been an earthquake in the neighborhood or whether the settling of the earth into the mine has caused the cracking.

"Nothing here," Scotty said. "At least nothing I can see. We'll have to try the mine itself."

They had replaced the boards at the entrance, simply pushing the nails back into the holes from which they had come. They pulled the boards aside and saw footprints – and not their own!

"Visitor," Scotty said with excitement.

Rick noted the size of the tracks. "And a big-footed one, too. Makes our tracks look small."

Scotty pointed. "He came out again, whoever he was. Let's see how far he went in."

The tracks told the story clearly and quickly. The visitor had gone in about twenty feet, and had then returned to the outside. One glance told the boys why.

The mine was timbered, with uprights and overhead beams spaced about every ten feet. Where the visitor had stopped, the mine timbers were supporting a big piece – or many pieces – of the rock overhead. Rick guessed that the heavy rain, working through cracks, had loosened a section and let its weight fall on the overhead crosspiece. It was also clear that the timbers would not support the weight for very long. They were rotten, and wet with the constant seepage of water.

"Must have been one of the Sons of the Old Dominion who wandered in for a look," Rick suggested. "He saw it wasn't safe and went right out again."

"Something like that," Scotty agreed. "And it isn't safe. Those timbers would go if anyone breathed hard at them."

"Then let's not breathe hard," Rick said.

"Meaning that we're going in, anyway."

Rick pointed out, with what he thought was complete logic, that the timbers had held the roof up since the rain, and that collapse surely wouldn't take place in a minute or two. He concluded, "And if we're going to find any kind of clue to a projector, it has to be in this mine somewhere."

"Then let's not linger," Scotty said. "And for Pete's sake don't stamp your feet when you go by the timbers. A little vibration would send them down for sure."

Rick asked, "What were the wind and the laughter the last time we were in here?"

"Imagination," Scotty replied. "Let's keep it under control this time."

"I'm with you. And ghosts don't blow out flashlights, so let's go."

They moved cautiously past the unsafe place, lights probing the tunnel walls for a sign of anything unusual or worthy of attention. Now and then they reached a bay where ore had been taken out, or a jog in the tunnel where the miners had lost the ore vein temporarily. They reached the spot of their penetration into the mine on their last visit and found the remains of their torches.

"No change. Thought they might have been chewed by ghosts," Scotty commented.

"Newsprint doesn't taste good," Rick replied. "Do ghosts have teeth?"

"Nope, just an icy breath. Do you remember any smell, by the way? When we got hit in our faces?"

"Something sort of sweet?"

"Yes. I wasn't thinking about smelling, and I didn't notice especially, but I sort of recall a nice odor."