The Blue Ghost Mystery Page 2

  “A real gory legend,” Scotty murmured.

  Both Jan and Barby glared at him. “Sorry,” he muttered contritely.

  “It’s a very romantic story,” Barby said tartly.

  Back and the Millers suppressed smiles.

  “Anyway,” Jan went on, “the creek has been known as Costin’s Creek ever since. Well, Captain Costin quartered his men in the town. You know how it was. He stayed at the home of Squire Lansdale, who was by then a Confederate general. The squire had a daughter, whose name was Ellen, and she was perfectly beautiful. The squire also had two sons, who were a little too young for joining the Army, but not too young to cause trouble.”

  Rick could see where the story led. He asked, “Was CaptainCostin a handsome young man, by any chance?”

  “He most certainly was,” Jan said emphatically. “He was terribly romantic. Wait until you see him.”

  Rick could hardly wait, but he didn’t comment.

  “Of course the captain and Ellen fell in love.”

  Rick could imagine.

  “But along cameJeb Stuart’s whole cavalry and they pushed Captain Costin’s squadron all the way back toManassas , and then they occupied the area. But Captain Costin couldn’t stand not seeing his Ellen, so he somehow got a message to her, to meet him at the mine.”

  It was the first Rick had heard of a mine. He asked, “Can I ask a question? Where is this mine and what kind is it?”

  “The mine is right across the creek, just beyond the bridge,” Jan explained. “We could see it from here if the trees weren’t there. Anyway, it’s where the town picnic ground is located now, on our property, partly. It used to be a lead mine, and during the Civil War a lot of Southern bullets came from there.”

  From Jan’s tone of voice, Rick suspected that her sympathies were with the lost Southern cause, which was natural enough, since her ancestry was pure Virginian for several generations.

  “The mine wasn’t worked on Sunday, in those days, and Captain Costin asked Ellen to meet him on a Sunday night atnine o’clock . Well, theLansdale boys somehow found out where their sister was going, and they went, too. And they shot down Captain Costin in cold blood, right at the mine entrance.Just when he was holding out his arms to greet his sweetheart!”

  Jan obviously didn’t like this part of the legend, Rick thought.

  “So that’s how the ghost began,” Jan concluded. “After making his way through

  practically the whole Confederate cavalry, he was shot down at our mine before he could even say hello to her! No wonder he haunts the place!”

  “How about all the soldiers killed in the fighting?” Scotty asked, straight-faced, “Don’t they haunt the place, too?”

  “We’ve heard that some people have seen more than one ghost,” Jan said, “but we don’t credit secondhand stories much. We only saw the captain.”

  Rick must have looked pretty incredulous, he suspected, because Barby gave him an accusing glance and stated flatly, “And we did see the captain, Rick Brant! Didn’t we?”

  The Millers all nodded. “Tell them,” Mrs. Miller suggested.

  Barby picked up the tale. “We were all invited to a cook-out the other night. It was given by theLans-daleGarden Club and Mrs. Miller is a member. I guess it’s planned long in advance, so they couldn’t call it off or go somewhere else, so it was held. There must have been at least fifty people there.”

  Rick made a mental note to ask for elaboration of Barby’s statement about canceling the event or holding it somewhere else.

  “The barbecue pits are close to the old mine entrance, where the ghost always appears because that’s where the captain was shot. Anyway, everything went well until nearly nine, and that was when we all began to get nervous.”

  Shot at nine, reappears at nine, Rick guessed.Strange ghost. Usually apparitions are supposed to appear atmidnight .

  “I didn’t really expect anything,” Barby went on, “because who believes in ghosts anyway?” She shuddered. “At least I didn’t then. But at nine someone let out a scream, and we looked, and there was a white mist rising above the mine, and then the Blue Ghost appeared right in the mist, and it was awful.” She ran out of breath and paused.

  “It really was,” Mrs. Miller said quietly. “Go on, Barby.”

  “Well, the ghost was a handsome young officer in a blue uniform, the Civil War kind.

  And he held out his hands, and he looked so ... so appealing. And then he suddenly put his hands on his chest, and when he pulled them away they were all ... all bloody.”

  Barby gulped. Rick shot a quick glance at the Millers. They were nodding.So all had seen the same thing, then.

  “Anyway, he faded away then, and only the white mist was left. But honestly, it was . . .

  well, it was so real! And the whole thing was blue, sort of, except for the . . . the blood.

  That was red.” Barby finished whitely, “It kind of broke up the picnic.”

  Rick could imagine. Great galloping ghouls! What had happened? He couldn’t believe the ghost was real, but Barby and the Millers were obviously convinced.

  “Incredible,” Scotty muttered. “That’s some yarn!”

  Rick agreed. “I want to see this Blue Ghost,” he stated.

  Dr. Miller smiled. “You both look rather doubting. I must admit that I don’t believe in ghosts. My entire scientific training rejects the explanation. But let me assure you, we saw a genuine apparition just as Barby described it, and I can offer no reasonable hypothesis. I have thoroughly inspected the area, and there is no physical evidence I have been able to see.”

  Rick digested this statement. His first thought, of course, had been that the ghost was somehow man-made. He still didn’t reject the idea, but Dr. Miller’s comments made it clear that the source of the ghost at least wasn’t obvious.

  “When do we see this ghost?” Rick asked.

  Dr. Miller replied, “How about tonight?’

  A sudden chill of premonition wormed its icy way up Rick’s spine. “That will be fine,”

  he said shakily.

  CHAPTER III

  The Blue Ghost

  Rick, Scotty, Barby, Jan, and the Millers walked leisurely along the slow-moving creek, down the dirt road to the old Bailey bridge. They passed the Sky Wagon and its

  protecting alarm system, and Rick wondered humorously to himself if the alarm would warn of spirits or only of humans.

  The sun had set only minutes before and the sky was still tinged with red. Rick noted that the waters of the creek picked up the color, and for a moment his active imagination peopled the empty fields with blue and gray cavalrymen locked in mortal combat. He could almost hear the thunder of hoofs, the excited neighing of the mounts, even the solid sound of a heavy saber meeting yielding flesh. He shivered. After all, it had been like that for a brief period many years ago.

  Scotty moved to his side. “This is the oddest ghost-hunting expedition I’ve ever been on. No equipment but a flashlight. Not even an electronic spook spotter.”

  Rick nodded agreement.“Too true. But any experienced ghost grabber knows that you can catch asackful with only a flashlight and a pair of shoestrings.”

  “Why the shoestrings?”

  “You tie their ectoplasm together top and bottom and they’re trapped in it. Like a burlap bag.”

  The boys had been bringing up the rear of the little procession and the others had not heard the soft-spoken exchange. Rick was just as glad. Weak jokes somehow didn’t fit.

  It was the very lack of preparation, the simple walk after dinner to see theghost, that made it all somehow very convincing. The Millers, both quiet people, were never much at small talk, but both girls were chatterers. Yet, even the girls were quiet.

  “They know,” Rick thought. “They know what we’re going to see. They’re awed and a little frightened, but they’re leading us to it, even knowing how it will be. Scotty and I are the ignorant ones. The others feel the weirdness and we don’t.”

>   He lengthened his stride and joined the Millers. “Sir, how can you be so sure we’ll see the apparition tonight?”

  “One can’t be sure, of course. But so far as we have heard, the apparition hasn’t missed a public gathering in a month. There will be one tonight, a service-club outing from over inManassas .”

  “They must not be afraid of the ghost,” Rick commented.

  “They may not have heard of it,” Mrs. Miller explained. “I don’t believe any newspaper has carried a story, so word of mouth would be the only way of knowing.”

  “Or perhaps they have heard but couldn’t cancel it,” Dr. Miller added. “That’s the case with most of the affairs now being held at the grounds. A great number have been called off. Only those scheduled far in advance with lots of guests are still going on, simply because it’s too difficult to change them.”

  Scotty asked, “Then the ghost is having an effect?”

  “Definitely.At this time of year the grounds are usually one of the most popular places around. Families come for cook-outs, and the kids swim in the creek. Clubs hold their outings almost every night, sometimes two or three groups at once. But since the ghost came people are staying away, except for the affairs that would be difficult or awkward to cancel or change.”

  That was what Barby had meant, Rick thought. He asked, “Is this a public park of some kind?”

  “No indeed,” Dr. Miller answered. “We own part of it, and a family named Hilleboe owns part. But it’s not used for anything and we’ve never objected to the public using it.

  The local Boy Scout troops have taken on the job of keeping it clean as a regular project, and most people are careful. It’s no trouble for us.”

  Rick glanced at his watch. It was getting dark rapidly now, and the apparition was due in fifteen minutes. The bridge was just ahead. They were in plenty of time.

  “Strange,” he thought. “The ghost of Captain Seth Costin, late of the Union Army, probably the Army of thePotomac , will perform for all comers promptly at nine. “We regret there can only be one performance each evening.’ Or was that true? Had anyone stayed to see? Maybe the obliging phantom performed every hour on the hour during darkness.”

  He shook his head as though to clear it of cobwebs. This didn’t check with any ghost story he had ever heard. No holding hands around a table, no incantations or strange phrases in forgotten languages, no incense, no nothing. It wasbum theater .

  The group crossed the bridge and entered the trees, still following the dirt road. Rick saw that the road forked, one branch going to town, the other to the picnic area. The trees around them were huge oaks, and almost certainly most of them had been healthy and along in years when Seth Costin fought among them.

  Rick enjoyed the feeling of history, of a definite past. He resolved to do a little reading on the area.

  Barby and Jan, who had been walking boldly in the van, dropped back now and the group seemed to huddle more closely together. There were voices among the trees, and here and there the glow of a fire. Then the edge of the tree belt was reached and the group stopped.

  There was a clearing beyond the tree belt, and in the clearing were rough-hewn tables and benches. Beyond the clearing a grassy hill rose gently to an upland meadow, except for a section that rose sharply for nearly a hundred feet.

  The up thrusting section was barren of grass, and at its base, boards were nailed across what was obviously the opening into the mine.

  “Interesting formation, isn’t it?” Dr. Miller asked.

  It definitely was, and Rick said so. Even to his relatively untrained eye, this was a place

  where a volcanic fissure had opened ages ago, allowing igneous rock to thrust sharply upward through the sedimentary layers of the older ground. Now the formation had weathered until it was like a barren hill built on top of a fertile one. On the steep slope of igneous rock no grass had managed to get hold, although a few hardy weeds clung to it.

  Barby pointed to a shelf, actually a terrace in the rock structure, above and a few yards to the left of the mine entrance. “He appears there,” she said.

  “Let’s get a good position,” Rick urged. “It’s almost nine.”

  The sky was still blue in color, but it was already dark on the ground. Fires flared up brightly, but the picnickers were hushed, as though they knew what was coming. They probably had not seen the ghost, and it was likely few believed they would see anything, but the unknown casts a strong web, and they were feeling its effects.

  The Spindrifters moved along through groups of picnickers until they were directly opposite the old mine shaft, and took up positions in the shelter of an oak tree.

  “There’s a pool of water on top of that shelf,” Dr. Miller told the boys. “It’s from a spring, actually an artesian well. There’s a pipe outlet up there from which water flows constantly. It collects in the pool, which overflows into a natural drainage ditch.”

  The scientist pointed to where the tiny stream made its way down the hillside and disappeared among the trees. “Over the years it has cut a natural channel to the creek So far as anyone can remember, it has always been here. The pipe was replaced a few years ago, apparently by driving a new one into the hillside. The original well probably was driven during the Civil War.”

  Rick examined the terrain.“Odd, water coming out of a hillside like that, especially when the hillside isn’t part of a mountain.”

  “The water comes off theBlue Ridge , and it develops a pretty good head of pressure in its underground channels. Whoever drove the original well simply tapped that

  hydrostatic head, although why they didn’t drive the well at this level is beyond me.”

  A suddenscream from nearby brought the conversation to an abrupt end. Rick turned in time to see a spout of water vapor, or something that made a white cloud, rise from the place where Dr. Miller had said the pool was located.

  Rick felt a chill run through him and the short hairs on the nape of his neck bristled in a reaction older than the race of man. “You’ve got to keep calm,” he warned himself sternly. “Be objective. Don’t miss a thing!”

  Scotty let out a low whistle, and Rick suddenly felt Barby’s fingers biting into his arm.

  For, through the white rising mist, there came an officer in Union blue, and from under the broad cavalryhatbrim , piercing eyes looked straight at them.

  Rick swallowed hard. He was vaguely aware of the terrified scurry aroundhim as most of the picnickers departed as fast as their legs would carry them.

  The apparition extended hands, as though in welcome to a loved one. The youthful, handsome face smiled.

  Rick shook his head to clear it. This couldn’t be happening! The apparition was faintly blurred, as though by the writhing of the mists in which he appeared, but details were clear enough. Rick could see the smile vanish suddenly, and shock replace it. He could see the gauntleted hands suddenly clasped to the chest, see red spurt from between the gloved fingers.

  Jan Miller let out a long-drawn, soft, shuddering sound from between clenched teeth.

  Barby’s fingers clamped tighter on her brother’s arm.

  Rick fought to shake off the feeling of horror and dread. “There aren’t any ghosts,” he tried to tell himself. “This isn’t a ghost. There are no ghosts.”

  Except that he was looking at one!

  The apparition began to fade, holding out bloody hands. The phantom officer swayed a little, and the young face was distorted with agony. It grew dimmer and dimmer until only the white mist remained.

  Rick was aware of Barby’s soft sobs next to him, but his eyes remained riveted on the white mist.

  A yell from Scotty snapped him out of his reverie.

  There was no place the Blue Ghost could have gone

  “Let’s go, boy!”

  Without quite knowing how it happened, Rick found himself next to his pal, climbing frantically up the rocky slope to the shelf, hurrying to catch the Blue Ghost before even the mist vanished.
/>
  Not even bothering to draw themselves to an upright position, the boys flung themselves forward into the rapidly vanishing mist. Rick felt with horror a thin, icy tendril curl around his face, and he heard a gentle bubbling sound, like phantom laughter.

  Scotty’s flashlight probed with a bright yellow beam, and Rick saw, in the instant before the mist vanished and all movement ceased, that the surface of the pool boiled gently and then was quiet.

  The flashlight beam disclosed solid rock, broken only by the pipe from which water trickled.

  There was no ghost.

  There was no place he could have gone.

  There was no sign of human handiwork.

  There was-nothing.

  CHAPTER IV

  The Old Mine

  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.

  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.

  It was a fine, normalVirginia summer day, with no trace of the supernormal or weird about it. Yet, Rick felt somewhat less than relaxed, and he certainly felt puzzled.

  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.

  “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.”

  “There was no one on the hill last night,” Scotty said positively. “I looked at every inch of it.”

  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.”