<h2><SPAN name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></SPAN>CHAPTER IV</h2>
<h3>The Old Mine</h3>
<p>Rick, Scotty, and the two girls stood in silence and surveyed the scene
before them. They stood on the brow of the hill, looking down at the
picnic ground, at the trees under which they had stood and watched a
hair-raising apparition the night before.</p>
<p>Even in daylight the place somehow seemed eerie to Rick. The sun was
shining brightly and birds came and went without fear or interference on
their normal business of gathering food. A slight breeze ruffled the
foliage of the oak trees.</p>
<p>It was a fine, normal Virginia summer day, with no trace of the
supernormal or weird about it. Yet, Rick felt somewhat less than
relaxed, and he certainly felt puzzled.</p>
<p>Directly below them the pool created by the flow of spring water
glistened in the sunlight. Between their feet and the pool was solid
rock, with only a few weeds struggling for life in an occasional crack.</p>
<p>"This is going to be a tough nut to crack," Rick stated. "Look at that
rock wall. Obviously, we'd have seen anything living that tried to climb
down it, even in the darkness. If anyone had been standing up here, he'd
have been silhouetted against the sky."</p>
<p>"There was no one on the hill last night," Scotty said positively. "I
looked at every inch of it."</p>
<p>Barby listened to the exchange with an exasperated expression on her
face. "Can't you two believe the evidence of your own eyes? The Blue
Ghost appeared right under where we're standing. You can see for
yourselves that nothing could be hidden by anyone to make a ghost
appear. Besides, it was too real to be a trick."</p>
<p>"It was a ghost," Jan Miller said with quiet conviction. "Everyone has
always known there was a ghost here."</p>
<p>Scotty shook his head. "Everyone has always known there were ghosts in a
hundred places, if you want to consider all the folklore about spooks. A
few people have even claimed to have seen one. But who ever heard of a
haunt that put on nightly performances?"</p>
<p>"You have now," Barby said flatly.</p>
<p>"Maybe," Rick said. He didn't know why he was still skeptical. The
apparition had been really blood-curdling in its apparent realness, but
he still wasn't ready to buy a supernatural explanation.</p>
<p>Jan Miller replied with an appropriate quote from William Shakespeare.
"There are more things in heaven and on earth than are dreamed of in thy
philosophy, Horatio Brant!"</p>
<p>Rick grinned. "That's true. No one knows better than I how ignorant I
am. I can only say that I'm trying to learn. Let's climb down and look
at the pool."</p>
<p>He led the way down the rocky slope to where the rusted iron pipe jutted
from the side of the Hill, a thin trickle of water dripping constantly
into the pool below. The pool was actually a catch basin in the rock.</p>
<p>Rick examined the pipe. It was ordinary, rusted but still sound. It held
no secrets that he could see. He held his mouth under it and tasted the
water. It was cold and good, typical spring water, with the taste of
minerals in it. He knew from Dr. Miller that it was good to drink.
Picnickers used it regularly.</p>
<p>"Expect evidence to float out with the water?" Barby asked.</p>
<p>"Never can tell," Rick said, unperturbed. His sister, even more than Jan
Miller, was an incurable romantic. If the ghost turned out to be
something other than the pitiful shade of Captain Costin, she would be
bitterly disappointed, Rick knew.</p>
<p>He got down on his knees, Scotty beside him, and they probed in the
water of the rocky basin with their hands. There was a layer of brown
algae in the bottom, which was to be expected. It looked dead, but when
Rick scraped it, there was green underneath the brown.</p>
<p>Scotty took out his jackknife and probed with the largest blade.
Clearly, there was nothing in the basin but a solid rock bottom.</p>
<p>The boys' eyes met. "The pool bubbled a little last night," Rick
recalled.</p>
<p>Scotty nodded. "I saw it, too. But there's nothing there to make it
bubble."</p>
<p>Jan Miller shuddered. "I almost died when you two idiots scrambled up
here. You went right into that awful mist!"</p>
<p>Rick remembered the icy tendril that had curled around his face and a
little chill went through him. "It was cool," he said. "At least the
Blue Ghost isn't warm. Maybe he's blue with cold."</p>
<p>Scotty used his jackknife to probe at cracks in the rocky hillside. It
was seamed with them, but he found nothing unusual. "I give up," the
dark-haired boy said, his face showing his bewilderment. "There's
absolutely nothing here. So where did the ghost come from?"</p>
<p>"Where does any ghost come from?" Rick asked. "Same place." Their
inspection should have settled it, but he wasn't ready to quit yet. To
give up would mean admitting that the Blue Ghost was really a spook. He
might have to admit it eventually, but not until all avenues of
investigation were closed.</p>
<p>"Now what?" Scotty asked.</p>
<p>"Let's look around some more."</p>
<p>Barby thought this was nonsense and let them know it. "You two can prowl
around all you want to," she said. "But I'm not going to get an overdose
of sun spook hunting on the rocks. Coming, Jan?"</p>
<p>"Lunch at noon sharp," Jan reminded the boys. "We'll go help Mother.
Good luck."</p>
<p>Rick and Scotty watched them go, then sat down next to the pool.</p>
<p>"What's on your mind?" Scotty asked.</p>
<p>Rick shrugged. "Nothing. I haven't the ghost of an idea about this
ghost."</p>
<p>"It was pretty real," Scotty remembered.</p>
<p>"Too true." It was so real that Rick almost believed in it. But he was
bothered by a vague feeling that something was wrong.</p>
<p>"Look, Scotty. I've read plenty of ghost stories, and I've read the book
by Charles Fort that Dad has in the library. Nothing was ever said about
this kind of ghost. I mean, a ghost that went in for public appearances
promptly at nine whenever he had an audience. Of course, there's no rule
that 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."</p>
<p>"I do. It's almost like a show, isn't it?"</p>
<p>"That's it. It's a performance more than an appearance, if there's any
distinction. The ghost did exactly what he's been doing. Same act."</p>
<p>Scotty grinned. "Why not? The act is part of the legend, and it's a
pretty convincing one."</p>
<p>Rick cocked an eyebrow at him. "Whose side are you on? The ghost's or
mine?"</p>
<p>"I have an open mind," Scotty explained.</p>
<p>The phrase rang a bell in Rick's head. Open mind—open <i>mine</i>. Could
there be some connection between the abandoned mine and the ghost? After
all, the shaft was almost under them. He broached the idea to Scotty.</p>
<p>His pal rose. "Nothing like finding out. Are you for it?"</p>
<p>"I'm for it. Can we get in?"</p>
<p>"We'll soon see."</p>
<p>The boys scrambled down the hill and inspected the entrance. Boards had
been nailed across the timbered opening, but the nails were rusted and
the boards weathered. They could get in simply by pulling the boards
loose.</p>
<p>"How about light?" Scotty asked. "We didn't bring a flashlight."</p>
<p>"We can do that later. Right now let's take a look at the entrance. That
will tell us if there has been any traffic around."</p>
<p>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 enter
on hands and knees. A top board was pulled off to admit light, and they
went in together, inspecting the ground closely.</p>
<p>"No sign of visitors," Scotty said. "Look at the dust. It hasn't been
disturbed for a half century."</p>
<p>Rick thought his pal probably was right about the length of time. The
dust was fine, and thick. No human tracks disturbed it, but the boys saw
the delicate tracery where a small animal, probably a field mouse or a
chipmunk, had left his spoor.</p>
<p>The tunnel was about eight feet high and wide enough for three people to
walk abreast. Probably the lead ore had been taken out in carts when the
mine was in use.</p>
<p>The shaft went straight in, past the range of light filtering in from
the entrance. Nowhere was there a sign of human occupancy or activity,
except for the ancient marks on the tunnel walls made by tools in the
hands of miners long dead.</p>
<p>"Nothing here," Rick said, and his voice was lost in the emptiness of
the shaft.</p>
<p>Scotty grunted. "Another dead end. Okay, where did the ghost come from?"</p>
<p>Rick didn't know. He couldn't even imagine. He puzzled over it as they
walked outside, then suddenly snapped his fingers. "Did you see any sign
of water in there? Or a pipe?"</p>
<p>"No. It was dry. No pipes. Why?"</p>
<p>"How was the original artesian well driven? Right into the hillside? If
so, why didn't the mine tunnel strike water?"</p>
<p>Scotty scratched his chin. "Now that you mention it, I haven't the
faintest idea. Have you?"</p>
<p>"Negative. I can't ever remember having so few ideas. But it's strange.
We'll have to ask Dr. Miller about it."</p>
<p>"Maybe the answer is deeper in the mine," Scotty replied. "Let's go back
and see."</p>
<p>Rick reminded him that they had no lights. "I suppose we could make
torches out of junk from the trash cans."</p>
<p>"Easy, if we can find some newspapers."</p>
<p>There were several trash cans spotted around the picnic area, and it was
indicative of the kind of neat people in the vicinity that they were
used. There was no litter.</p>
<p>The second can yielded two entire newspapers, one a bulky edition of a
Washington paper, the other a ten-page local sheet. The boys split the
papers evenly, then rolled them tightly. They frayed one end with a
jackknife to make the torch.</p>
<p>"Got a match?" Rick asked.</p>
<p>Scotty looked at him blankly, then grinned. "No, have you?"</p>
<p>"No match, no flint or steel, no ... hey, wait! I've got a pocket lens!"</p>
<p>Rick's enthusiasm for microscopy had extended to the purchase of a
twelve-power pocket lens to supplement the microscope Barby had given
him. The pocket lens was used for examining specimens before taking them
home for closer scrutiny under the more powerful instrument. Rick had
not yet gotten used to carrying the small lens and had forgotten it
until the need for a burning glass arose.</p>
<p>He took the lens from his watch pocket and unfolded it from the
protective metal case. It focused the sun's rays to a pinpoint of
intense light and heat, and the charred paper then burst into a tiny
flame. Rick blew the flame into life, then put his lens back for
safekeeping.</p>
<p>"Nothing like the scientific method," he told his pal. "Who needs
matches? Come on. Let's burn that ghost out of there."</p>
<p>Scotty grinned. "Nothing like luck," he corrected. "Okay, I'm right
behind you."</p>
<p>They retraced their steps into the mine. Rick noted as they went through
the entrance that the old mine timbers were pretty well rotted through.
He guessed that the mine had been boarded up because it was unsafe. He
and Scotty would have to be careful.</p>
<p>In a few moments they were in deep gloom, only the smoky, fitful flicker
of Rick's torch giving them light enough to see by. The newspaper wasn't
burning very well, probably because he had rolled it too tightly. They
could see only a trace of daylight.</p>
<p>The old shaft turned at nearly right angles where a geological fault had
forced the Civil War miners to change directions in order to follow the
vein of good ore. The turn cut off most of the light, except for the
waning flicker of Rick's torch. Scotty hurriedly held his own torch to
the flame to light it.</p>
<p>Rick was never sure what happened at that point, whether Scotty's torch
pushed too hard and extinguished his own, or whether a sudden icy wind
blew through the mine shaft. He knew only that they were instantly in
darkness, while faraway ghostly laughter echoed in their ears!</p>
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