CHAPTER XIII
The Night Watchers
Rick couldn't sleep. He kept trying for a comfortable position, but thehitherto excellent bed suddenly seemed full of lumps. His pillowwouldn't behave, either. It seemed determined to lump up and deprive himof sleep.
His body was tired enough, but his mind kept worrying the problem of theBlue Ghost endlessly, going over incidents and details, searching for ameaning, a clue that would lead to a conclusion.
What was the reason for the Blue Ghost? If he could only figure thatmuch out the rest would follow naturally. If the assumption that theghost was man-made was correct, there had to be some reason for theapparition.
So far as he knew, the ghost had had only one effect, and that was toreduce drastically the use of the picnic ground in front of the oldmine. According to the Millers, the grounds were in constant use mostyears, with family parties, group affairs, and young people spendingconsiderable time in swimming, eating, ball games, and all the otheramusements of people who sought the coolness of trees and water toescape the Virginia summer heat.
Now use of the grounds was restricted to affairs of long standing thatit would be inconvenient to change or to cancel.
That was a definite effect, he admitted to himself. But who could profitby it?
There was only one possible clue, and that lay in the midnight prowlingsof the Blue Ghost and his varying number of companions. Turning thepicnic area into a forbidding place, a haunted ground, would give theghost and friends ample opportunity to roam the upper and lower fieldswithout interference.
Only, why roam the fields?
Somehow, the radioactive dust in the cement bags must tie into it, butRick couldn't imagine the connection. He thought of a secret uraniumstrike and rejected it. Empty bags pointed to something gotten rid of,not something gained by a discovery.
The thought was intriguing. If he assumed the bags had arrived full,what had happened to the contents? He tried to think of uses for thepowdered ore and couldn't. Even if he could imagine a secret processingplant to extract the uranium for some purpose, there wasn't enough. Asufficient quantity of ore to provide even a gram of uranium metal wouldmean literally thousands of bags and they had found less than a dozen.
Of course there was the cart Belsely had seen. Rick couldn't credit thefarmer's notion that the ghost soldiers had been collecting ghost bodiesof the long-dead. But what had the cart been doing? The very idea of acart led to the idea of something too heavy to be carried withoutmechanical aid. What? Bags of radioactive ore dust?
He was still tossing in his bed and chewing the data fine when the dogsbegan to bark. He listened. The barking was far away, probably a mile ormore. There were farms on the road to town, and probably all of them haddogs.
Scotty spoke in a whisper. "What makes dogs bark at night?"
"Maybe a fox," Rick replied.
"Or a ghost?"
Rick sat bolt upright. "Maybe!"
Scotty swung to a sitting position on the side of his bed. "I've beenlistening to you twisting and turning for an hour. If you're going tokeep me awake, it might as well be useful. What say we go look?"
Rick looked at the luminous dial of his watch. It was past midnight. "Nochases ending in quarries?"
Scotty's chuckle was low. "No chases. Listen a minute!"
Rick held his breath, and heard what Scotty's keen ears had detected.There was the sound of a car somewhere far away. He couldn't tell thedirection, but he was sure it was not the road from town because thebedroom windows opened on the town side of the farmhouse.
The night was clear and still, and sounds would carry great distances.The car might even be on the main highway, about five miles away.
"Let's get going," Rick said softly. He fumbled for his clothes on thechair at the foot of his bed and dressed quietly. Scotty was doing thesame on his own side of the room.
They checked flashlights, then started down the stairs. The treadscreaked noisily, as is the case in old houses, and Dr. Miller's voicestopped them.
"Going spook hunting?"
"Yes, sir," Rick replied softly. "We're going to see why the dogs arebarking."
"No chases," the scientist warned. "If you should see anything, stayaway from it. Watch from a respectful distance."
"We will," Rick promised.
Outside, the night was lighted only by stars and a crescent moon. Treeswere dark shapes against the lighter darkness of the night as the boysmade their way through the orchard. They headed for the plane, intendingto stop at the edge of the orchard to reconnoiter.
The field before them stretched dark and empty to the trees along thecreek, except for the angular bulk of the plane. Rick watched andlistened with every sense alert. Insects hummed now and then, but thatwas all.
"Let's get to the tree belt," Scotty said in a whisper. "We can watchboth fields from there."
"Okay." Rick led the way at a half trot that covered ground rapidly. Ina few minutes they were across the creek and among the trees. Theyslowed their pace, stopping now and then to listen. The dogs were stillbarking, but the noise came from far away, on the other side of the hillin which the mine was located.
Scotty took the lead as they approached the picnic grounds. He wasnoiseless as a shadow, and Rick tried hard to step exactly in hisfootprints 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 andsqueezed. Rick stopped instantly, ready for whatever action wasindicated.
Scotty put his lips to Rick's ear. "Look around the tree, on top of themine in the upland cornfield. Be very careful."
Rick moved into position, then with extreme caution he peered around theprotecting 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 hadchased. 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 whatwere they doing in the cornfield? In a moment it became clear. The threewere coming his way!
Scotty squeezed his shoulder and pointed up. Rick realized suddenly thatthey were hiding behind the oak in which they had watched unsuccessfullyfor the Blue Ghost. He jumped for the lowest branch and quickly hauledhimself into the protecting foliage. Scotty was close behind him.
Through openings in the foliage they saw the Blue Ghost make his waydown the hillside with his two companions, saw the three pause at thebasin in which the ghost made his public appearances. Rick shuddered ashe heard soft, ghostly laughter. He was convinced that he watched threemen, but the memory of the bitter, burning cold on his face was stilltoo fresh and green not to feel a reaction.
The ghostly trio continued down the slope to the picnic grounds andturned to the road that led to the bridge. Rick would have given muchfor enough moonlight to see details, but he could see only the threevague shapes. He thought the figure with the softly lighted apparatus onhis head carried something in one hand, but he wasn't sure.
Not until the trio passed out of sight behind the trees did the boysdescend from the tree, then they paused for a whispered consultationthat couldn't have been heard three feet away.
"They must be heading for the field where the plane is parked," Rickguessed. "We want to keep an eye on them."
"That we will," Scotty assured him. "Follow me, old son. We're makingreal progress tonight!"
Scotty led the way through the tree belt to the bank of the creek. Hepaused in the trees long enough to be sure the ghost trio had crossedthe creek, then picked positions behind the earthworks erected byConfederate soldiers long ago.
Rick watched the ghosts--for he thought of them by that useful term eventhough he now knew they were mortal--as they walked slowly across thefield. He saw them pause, and saw the dark figures shorten as they bentover. He took a bearing on the spot, usin
g the dim shape of his planefor one reference and the bridge for another. He thought he could locatethe position again by daylight.
In a moment the three moved on again, while Rick watched, puzzled. Hefelt 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. Theydidn't come up the road to town, so they must have used the road in thevalley on the other side of the hill. I'm going to take a look. Ifthere'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. Iwon't get caught. Just go on home and wait for me."
Rick whispered an okay, and Scotty melted into the night with thenoiseless skill that Rick so much admired. Then he turned his attentionto the ghosts once more.
Rick counted five stops in various parts of the field. After the lastone, the trio turned, recrossed the bridge, moving briskly, climbed thehill, and disappeared into the cornfield. Mission accomplished,apparently. What had the mission been?
According to Belsely, this happened each time, except for the occasionwhen a cart had been used. What were they hunting? Or, if they weren'thunting, what were they doing? Rick felt frustrated. To be so close, yetto be unable to see anything but vague shapes in the darkness!
Tomorrow he and Scotty would search both fields in an effort to findwhat the Blue Ghost sought, or to try to figure out what he and hisfriends were doing.
Scotty caught up with him as he was crossing the field by his plane. Thedark-haired boy was triumphant. "They had a car, all right, and theregistration was in a container on the steering wheel. I've got all thedope. Probably I shouldn't have done it, but I sneaked a quick look atthe name. Can you imagine what it is?"
"Jethro Collins?"
"Nope. It's Hilleboe. Dr. Miller's next-door neighbor!"