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Blue Ghost Mystery

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<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> <h3>The Dark Pit</h3> The plane's klaxon horn wailed through the night with a noise audible for miles. The boys pushed past the tenant farmer and ran through the screen door on the porch. The plane was not yet in sight and it was very dark out. The moon was hidden by a bank of low-lying clouds, a precursor of rain. Rick ran as fast as his long legs would carry him, which was fast enough to hold a track record or two at Whiteside High. Scotty, in spite of his greater weight, was not far behind. At least one question was answered, Rick thought as he sped through the trees, ducking now and then as he caught a glimpse of a low branch. The ghost could set off an alarm system! He fumbled in his pocket to be sure that he had the keys to the plane, and wondered if he would be in time to keep the apparition from causing damage. In the next instant he burst through the fringe of the orchard and broke stride as he saw a pale-blue light dancing in the air around the dark shadow of the Sky Wagon! Scotty was right behind him. He, too, paused for an instant as he saw the light, then both boys were moving at their best speed again. Rick tried to control his breathing. The spurt was taking its toll, but if he kept going he would get his second wind. He had to get to the plane! He wondered briefly if a supernatural being could do physical damage, then discarded the thought. He wasn't ready to accept that anything supernatural could trigger purely physical alarm systems! The light seemed almost to have features as Rick drew closer, like a pale-blue jack-o'-lantern, but it was soon clear that this was no hollowed pumpkin head. It was like a human head illuminated from within by some ghastly luminescence. "It's moving," Scotty called, his voice shaky. Rick saw at the same time that the apparition was retreating, slowly, away from the plane. It kept the distance constant, always retreating as the boys neared. Their own pace had slowed; the initial sprint couldn't be kept up. Rick ran directly for the plane, jumped the low wire fence, and inserted his key in the door. He turned the key and the deafening blast of the horn cut off, leaving a deep silence. He turned the key back again, resetting the alarm system, then he jumped the fence once more. "Where is it?" "There." Scotty pointed to the bank of the creek. The ghostly blue light was swaying, as though in invitation, but it was no longer retreating. "What is it?" Rick asked. "It looks like a human head lighted from within. But it's too far in the air to be at head level, unless this Union bluecoat was seven feet tall." Scotty replied with conviction. "It has to be someone carrying a light." "Can you see anyone under it?" "No, but that means nothing. The trees make a dark background. I thought I caught a glimpse of a body under it while we were running, but I can't be certain." "There's one way to find out," Rick said, and was astonished to find that he didn't get cold chills at the thought. "Let's catch him!" Scotty's reply was to take off in a racing start toward the blue light. Rick had to stretch his legs to catch up, and saw the ghost begin its retreat again, always maintaining the distance between itself and the boys. It danced in the air like a will-o'-the-wisp, as though inviting the boys to hurry. The pace was slower now, because the relatively smooth surface of the field had been left behind and the course led through bunch grass with an occasional clump of brambles. The ghost danced along the creek bank. Whatever might be under the light was constantly invisible against the fringe of trees. Then it vanished among the trees for a moment, only to reappear. Rick thought grimly that it was going to be a long chase. Once he stopped in his tracks and whispered to Scotty to do the same. Both listened, but there was no sound other than the normal night noises. Rick knew their own passage had been noisy, marked by the crunching of dry bunch grass, the crack of an occasional small twig of brush, and other sounds of hurrying feet, but the ghost moved with the silence of a—well, a ghost! In spite of himself Rick felt a moment's chill, then he pressed his lips tightly together and hurried on. It was no ghost, he told himself. It was no ghost! Someone was carrying a light, that was all. Ghosts do not carry lights. The chase led into the trees, and onto rising ground. There were rocky outcroppings now, and Rick knew they had reached the foothills. The creek cut its way through the foothills for a short distance, then turned to follow an easier path on its way to the sea. The underbrush was thicker now. This was typical Virginia second-growth forest, full of low brush and creepers. Rick knew it only by feel, however, because it was so dark he could only sense the presence of trees before crashing into them. The blue light vanished periodically behind trees, only to reappear again as though urging them on. Then, as they broke into a denser thicket, the light vanished completely. Scotty muttered under his breath. Rick peered through the blackness eagerly, taking deep breaths. He had thought they were actually gaining for a moment. He stood still, his chest heaving. Scotty stopped beside him. There was no sound. Even the night noises of the forest had ceased. There was a weird feeling of hollowness in the air, as though they stood in some great cavern. Rick whispered, "Where did it go?" "Don't know," came Scotty's breathless reply. "Keep an eye out while I tie my shoe." Rick sucked in his breath. The blue light! It was closer, tantalizingly close. He suddenly realized he stood on the edge of a clearing, and the blue light hovered on the opposite edge. It danced mockingly. "Come on!" Rick bounded away from Scotty, and crashed through a dozen feet of underbrush, intent on the light. It wasn't moving! It hovered, as though waiting. For an instant his determination faltered. One thing to chase an object, another to have it wait for you! He charged on, and his foot slid on soft dirt. He lost balance and his arms flailed to regain his footing, too late! He slid, his back striking painfully as he flew into blackness! Rick fell, turning slowly through the air. He had time for one brief yell of fear and warning before the wind was smashed out of him. He plunged deep into icy water and struggled frantically as he plummeted into the depths. It seemed to Rick as though he plunged downward for an eternity. He had no breath; it had been slammed out of him from impact with the water. But he resisted the terrible temptation to breathe and drove his arms downward to check his plunge. In a few seconds he was shooting to the surface again, his chest an agony from lack of air. His arms and legs worked as he literally clawed his way to the air once more, and he shot high into the blessed atmosphere as he broke the surface. Rick floated, lying on his back, breathing deeply and grateful just to be alive. He heard Scotty calling his name, but had to wait for several breaths before he could manage a weak yell. He didn't know what had happened, except for one clear thing: they had been mousetrapped. The ghost had lured them on, waiting until the pit was reached before pausing in flight to give them a chance to catch up. And the chance had turned out to be the trap. "Rick! Can you hear me?" "I hear you." Scotty seemed terribly far away. Then Rick saw his friend's silhouette, as a dark shape against the lesser darkness of the sky. At a guess Scotty was fifty feet up. "Hang on while I get a light!" Rick wondered if his pal was going all the way back to get one of the flashlights they had left behind in the precipitous chase. He wasn't worried about his ability to stay afloat. He had his breath back somewhat now, so he paddled slowly to a point on the wall of the pit under Scotty's position. He bumped gently into rock and felt with his hands while treading water. The rock surface was rough, but the roughness was regular, the wall flat. Then his fingers felt a groove and his mind created the image to match it. A drill hole! He was in a quarry! It made sense, Rick thought. This was good limestone country. The ghost had simply led them to an abandoned limestone quarry, and he had obligingly fallen in! A miracle he hadn't broken his neck. Yellow light cut the darkness and he looked up. Scotty apparently didn't intend to be caught without matches again, for in a moment he appeared, a torch of dry twigs in his hand. It blazed brightly. Scotty placed it on the quarry's lip and added more fuel. The flames mounted higher as the wood caught. Only when the flames were high enough to see by did Scotty look down. "See a way up, Rick?" <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus2.jpg" alt=""/></div> <h3>"See a way up, Rick?" Scotty called</h3> <hr style="width: 65%;" /> Rick was already searching. On the side to the right of where he had fallen in was a shelf about two feet above the water. It led to another shelf. He swam for it and pulled himself out, shaking water from his clothes. The second shelf was easily reached, but then he was stuck. It was easily twenty feet to the rim. The flickering light showed a sheer wall that could not be climbed without a rope. Scotty could see the problem, too. "I guess it's us for a rope. I'm sure glad you didn't fall on that side." "Amen." Where Rick had fallen was a sheer drop into the water. On any other side he would have landed on a shelf. "Will you be okay?" Scotty asked. "I'll leave the fire burning." "Take off," Rick replied. "I'm happy as a cliff swallow on my little shelf. Don't be long." "Okay." Scotty was gone, leaving only the yellow glow of the fire for company. Unless, Rick thought, the Blue Ghost was hovering nearby, snickering at the success of his efforts. Thankful that it was a warm night, he removed his garments one at a time and wrung the water from them. The surface of the quarry pool caught the yellow light of the waning fire as he poured water from his shoes. He was very thoughtful. What was the meaning of the night's events? His wringing out finished and his damp clothes back on, he sat down on the limestone shelf to be as comfortable as possible while waiting. He had set out at top speed to catch a ghost, but the ghost had caught Richard Brant. He wasn't sure what that meant, but he was sure it meant something. He shivered, as much from reaction as the dampness. Maybe time would tell. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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