by John Blaine
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 nightDid 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 Carle-ton 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 ofVirginia , 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 inWashington . 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 heard 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 inArlington . 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,”
“What’s methyl chloride?” Rick asked.
“A highly volatile chemical.It’s not a painkiller in the usual sense, like aspirin. You spray it on the area that hurts, and it evaporates in seconds. You know what that does.”
Rick did,And suddenly last night’s events were perfectly, transparently clear.
“Evaporation cools the surface,” Rick said for Scotty’s benefit.“The faster the evaporation, the faster the cooling. This methyl chloride must act pretty fast.”
“It does,” the druggist agreed. “That’s how it kills pain, partly. It chills the outer layer of skin a
lmost instantly.”
CHAPTER XV
The Missing Facts
Dr. Miller’s conversation with Jethro Collins was something less than satisfactory. He told the boys about it on the way home.
“I told him bluntly that I was suspicious about his offer because the property he wants to buy has little value as farm land and contains no timber or anything else of commercial value. I told him I wouldn’t consider an offer until I knew what the land was to be used for.”
The scientist chuckled. “That was my way of putting him on a spot, of course. But he refused to be cornered. He replied that his customer wanted the land for reasons of his own, which it was not Collins* place to divulge. He assured me the land would not be used for commercial purposes, so my own property would be quite safe.
“I replied that I needed more assurances than his word, and demanded to know the identity of his client. I pointed out that the name would become known during the process of settlement anyway, unless his client proposed to use a dummy of some sort in which to register the deed to the land.”
“But he wouldn’t tell you the name,” Rick guessed.
“Correct. My guess is that he would use a dummy of some sort, perhaps even Collins himself as nominal owner of the land.”
Scotty offered, “People don’t buy land unless it has some value for something. Can’t you think of any way in which your land has value?”
“I’m afraid not. I’ve tried to puzzle it out, with no success. The field itself is all right, if fertilized and limed, but the rest is worthless for farming. There isn’t even an access road. The road leading into the picnic area and across the creek to the house is my own property. It’s a private road.”
Rick kept wondering about the radioactive ore. “Could there be any minerals worth mining?”
“Not even that, Rick. Except for the igneous outcropping in which the mine is located, this whole valley is sedimentary rock, probably for a depth of several hundred feet. Even the foothills are the same kind of rock. They were moved upward from what is now the valley during a shift in the earth’s crust. The faults in the formation show this clearly.”
“The whole business is tied together somehow,” Rick said with conviction. “So far we’ve been trying to follow threads. We come across other threads that seem to run crossways, but that’s because what we’re trying to see is a whole piece of cloth, not just the threads. So far we don’t know if the cloth is a whole suit or just a handkerchief.”
“The metaphor is a little obscure, but I get your meaning, and I agree.” Dr. Miller drew to a stop in the driveway of his home. “Suppose we have a late morning bit of
refreshment and use our heads instead of our legs?”
At the scientist’s request, the girls produced a snack of toast and jam with iced tea and soft drinks. Mrs. Miller begged to be excused from the council because of housework to be done, but the others gathered in the living room to explore the mystery from every angle.
Dr. Miller led the discussion. The scientist was obviously intrigued by the problem, even though he had let the boys handle things in their own way. As he explained with a twinkle, “Rick and Scotty have reputations as detectives to maintain. I’m a poor, simple physicist. No one expects me to solve this mystery. So die boys have to be given first chance to bring the ghost to bay.”
Barby sniffed. “You’re all pretty sure the ghost is a fake.”
“And you’re not,” Rick observed. “I guess we’ll have to put him in a bottle for you before you’ll believe it.”
“Peace,” Dr. Miller interposed.“Each to his or her own opinions. We’re here in pursuit of facts, not fancies. Rick, you’re first at bat.”
Rick considered. What were the most important facts? They had been working on
assumptions, but assumptions need proof before they can be accepted as valid.
“Well, I’m not sure I’m listing the facts in order of importance, but I’ll try. First, the ghosts that walk the fields at night are humans.”
Barby interrupted. “How can you be certain?”
“They looked human. We saw their silhouettes against the sky clearly enough to see their shapes, and they were human shapes.” As she started to speak again, he held up his hand. “Whoa! Let me finish.Ghosts also have human shapes is probably your
counterargument. I’m not arguing that ghosts don’t really exist, but if they do, they are supposed to be sort of nonsolid, aren’t they? Like the Blue Ghost at the mine. But the field ones were solid enough. No light showed through them.”
“Not all ghosts are transparent,” Barby insisted.
“She’s got you.” Dr. Miller chuckled.
Scotty spoke up. “Ghosts do not drive cars.”
“And you’ve no proof the ghosts you saw in the field came from the car,” Barby
defended hotly. “Did you see them get in the car and drive away?”
Scotty held up his hands in surrender. “No. I passed them on my way back from the car.”
“Evidence not sufficient,” Dr. Miller said with a grin. “The ghosts may or may not be human. Your first fact needs more proof, Rick. Carry on.”
Back sighed.“All right. I’ll start over again. First, we have uncovered cement bags that contained radioactive ore, pulverized into a fine dust. I’ll amend that. The bags contain a small quantity of radioactive ore, which gives some reason for believing they were once full of such ore.”
The group laughed. “Now you’re on the beam,” Dr. Miller approved. “State only what you know as fact and identify what you infer from the facts as inference or speculation.”
“Glad you all approve. Second, we believe the Frostola man was interested in the
cement bag Scotty carried. It is a fact that when we returned from town the cement bag that we put in the trash can, and the cement bags we left where we found them, had been removed. Because of the Frostola man’s apparent interest, we are of the opinion he took the bags.”
Jan Miller giggled. “You sound like a lawyer.”
“I feel like one,” Rick returned with a grin.
“Third, the Blue Ghost led Scotty and me on a wild chase that ended up with me
dropping into the quarry. The facts are that the ghost somehow triggered the plane alarm.
We will not argue whether or not a real ghost could have set off a purely
physical,nonspiritual alarm.”
Barby nodded soberly, but there was a twinkle in her blue eyes.
“Continuing with the facts of that incident, the ghost stayed ahead of us without difficulty. A real ghost could have done that, I suppose, but so could any person in reasonable physical shape who knew the terrain. Now, the ghost’s light went off as he reached the edge of the quarry, or somewhere in the vicinity of the edge.”
Rick looked at his sister. “I will stipulate that a real ghost need not have any reason for his actions. But a person imitating a ghost would have had to turn off his light in order to go around thequarry, otherwise we would have seen that he made a detour. A ghost would presumably float right over the quarry.”
“Ghosts do float,” Barby agreed solemnly.
“Uh-uh. Since this one did not, and since it reappeared-or the light did-on the opposite side of the quarry, we believe there was a deliberate attempt to lead us into said quarry.”
He paused and took a deep breath. “How am I doing, coach?”
Dr. Miller nodded approval.“Fine. See how easy it is to separate fact and conjecture?”
“So what do we conclude from this one event? We conclude it is reasonable to believe that a person, and not a spook, triggered the plane alarm and led us to the quarry. We speculate that the person did not know about the alarm and set it off by accident, probably while inspecting the plane, since we see nothing to be gained by sabotage. We speculate that the chase was to frighten us, not primarily to harm us, the reason being that we rushed the ghost during the ghost act and are therefore potentially dangerous. We reach this conclu
sion because the ghost picked a side of the quarry where we would land
in the water, which is plenty deep by the way, and not on the rocks.”
“Okay. Scotty, take over. I’m worn out from trying to be precise.”
The scientist grinned. “Lack of practice, I’m afraid. If we all sought precision in our speech many of the world’s misunderstandings could be avoided.”
“I don’t know what we can say,” Scotty objected. “We have few facts. We have only some observations. We can try to interpret our observations, but we can’t prove them.
For instance, there is the fact that we were given a bath of something by the Blue Ghost that seemed to freeze our faces. There is the fact that the Frostola man bought a quantity of methyl chloride. There is the fact that methyl chloride could have produced the effect we felt. But how can we say that it’s a fact that the Frostola man somehow doused us with chemical?”
“You can’t,” Jan Miller agreed.
“So if we stick to demonstrable facts, we don’t get far,” the scientist concluded. “But can we settle for mere speculation?”
“No, sir,” Rick stated. “But let’s admit that speculation has its uses. After all, circumstantial evidence is permitted in court. Speculation can give us the circumstances that need to be proved, and that tells us where to put our efforts. I think that’s fair enough.”
“So doI ,” Dr. Miller agreed.
Rick arose. “Then we’ll continue working the way we’ve been doing it. It’s not the best way, but at least we’re uncovering little items that can be tied together if we find just two missing facts.”
“Like what?” Barby demanded.
“We go back to our assumption that the ghost is man-made. On this assumption, the things we need to know are how and why is the ghost produced?”
CHAPTER XVI
Trapped!
It was, as Rick said, time for action and not for words. He and Scotty set out to track down every possible shred of evidence. They armed themselves with flashlights, and Rick made sure he had his pocket lens, and they started out.
