"Why suppose? Unless you've had enough of mines for one day, we can go back in and find out."

"I've had enough, but not enough to miss a chance like this. My flashlight is still strong and it shouldn't take more than a few minutes."

"Then let's go. No telling when a spook may visit the mine from this end. Of course there's no telling about Uncle Frostola, either. He may be inside."

That hadn't occurred to Rick. He thought it over, then shrugged. "We might as well take the chance. If he is inside, that proves something, and we're two to his one. Besides, it's late, and any sensible man is eating his supper. Come on."

He led the way back into the cave, but because of the peddler's possible presence, he wasn't as headlong in his traversing of the tunnel as he might otherwise have been.

They passed the side tunnel from which they had emerged a short time before and entered entirely new territory. It wasn't unlike the rest of the mine, consisting of a main bore with some alcoves indicating either deviations of the ore vein or niches cut to allow ore carts to pass.

Walking rapidly, but alert for either sound or light, they traveled through the tunnel at a good speed.

"We've been walking quite a while," Rick said finally. "How long do you suppose this shaft is?"

Scotty thought it over. "It can't be any longer than the hill is wide, because we're traveling through the hill. It must be about the same length as the lower tunnel."

"Why two tunnels?" Rick asked. "I doubt that there were two veins of ore."

Scotty reminded him of the good ore they had seen in the ceiling of the lower tunnel. "There might have been just one vein, about two tunnels high. They were limited to pick and shovel for tools in those days, remember, maybe with a little powder for blasting. It would have been more convenient to work within range of tools like shovel and pick. So the ceiling is as high as a man with a pick can reach, and as wide as the ore vein was wide. That's a little confused, but I'm sure you follow me."

"Sounds reasonable," Rick agreed. "Only this tunnel can't go on much farther, or we'll be in the middle of the picnic—Hey! Scotty, take a look!"

Ahead in the tunnel was a box, and on the box was metal that reflected the flashlight's beam. In a second the boys stood over it.

Rick's heart pounded rapidly. Here was the proof. Here was Missing Fact Number One. Here was verification of at least part of their speculation.

An eight-millimeter motion-picture projector!

Rick motioned to the front of the machine with a trembling hand. "Look, there's a film in place, and it's a continuous loop. Once it's threaded it will repeat over and over unless cut off."

Scotty was probing into the box. "Batteries. Two of them, twelve volts each. And I'll bet the motor in the projector is designed to operate on twelve volts. There's even a hydrometer for testing the batteries."

Rick took a look. As Scotty had said, there were two automobile batteries, their cables running up into the projector.

"Simple enough," he commented. "Let's see what's on the film."

He opened the film gate gingerly and removed the film from the sprockets. Then, without disengaging the spindles, he put the flashlight behind it and bent close. The eight-millimeter frames were pretty small, but not so small that he and Scotty couldn't make out the image.

The scene had been shot against a black background, that was clear. Only the central figure was illuminated, the figure of a Union cavalry officer.

"Meet the Blue Ghost," Rick said happily.

"Delighted," Scotty said emphatically. "I suppose I shouldn't admit it, but deep down, way back in the primitive part of my thick head, I was sometimes guilty of wondering about this creature."

Rick held out his hand. "Shake hands with another superstitious chucklehead. So was I. But let it be said to our credit that neither of us was so scared we were afraid to move."

He chuckled. "Of course there were times when I just had to keep my poor icy spine from freezing solid." He replaced the film on the sprockets and closed the gate with great care.

"The projector is aimed at the wall," Scotty pointed out, "right at the end of the tunnel. How does it get to where people can see it?"

"There has to be a way," Rick said. He swept the beam of his light around and it steadied on an iron pipe. "Hey, look!"

The pipe entered through the end of the tunnel, threaded into a right-angle pipe fitting, and disappeared into the tunnel floor!

"So that's how the water comes out of the hillside!" Rick exclaimed. "The well was originally driven straight down, as a well should be, and the horizontal pipe was added later. It misses the lower tunnel by about six feet."

"That's not the only interesting thing about this end of the tunnel," Scotty added. "This whole end is artificial, including part of the roof over the well. Take a look. It's mortarless stonework. No wonder the face was so seamed on the outside. Whoever did this was a terrific mason, because he selected rocks—probably from the mine itself—that duplicated the contour of the hill. But why go to all the trouble? That's what puzzles me."

"Maybe this is the reason," Rick said. He pointed to rusty iron projecting from the wall. The iron supported a block of stone, by means of an iron pin that ran from the bottom of the stone through a hole in the iron piece projecting from the wall. At the top of the stone was a similar arrangement. It was an elementary but effective hinge, long ago rusted to disuse.

Rick studied the wall, and directly in front of the projector lens he found another of the same arrangements, but with a difference. This one was modern, and it had been painted to prevent rusting. There were traces of graphite or graphite grease where the pins went through the iron supports.

Clearly, the block of stone supported by the iron pins formed a porthole, the pins allowing the stone to be swung inward. The old, rusted one had been unused for decades, but the port in front of the projector had been repaired and lubricated. The comparison between the two gave Rick his clue.

"This is a sniper nest built by the Confederates," he guessed. "Probably to protect the mine. The upper mine tunnel opened out here, too, and then war came and the people sealed the upper one to give protection to the troops working the lower level. That means the upper level was dug out first."

"It's speculation, but it sounds good," Scotty agreed. "These are gun ports, very likely. I don't know what other purpose they could have served."

Later they learned from Dr. Miller that the ports had also served as ventilation for slaves using the mine to hide on their way North to freedom, but that was after the North had the area partly in its grip. They also found that from these same ports the Lansdale brothers had fired the shots that killed Captain Seth Costin, for the legend was almost entirely true.

"We open this port in front of the machine and we'll be only inches above the pool," Rick said. "Look at the location of the pipe. So, to produce the ghost, the Frostola man slid open the port, dropped a piece of dry ice...."

"All properly sized to give the right amount of mist for the right time," Scotty added.

"... and turned on the machine. With only the small port for the sound to go through, it wouldn't be audible to anyone in the picnic grounds."

Scotty agreed. "And since the projector is so close to the mist we wouldn't see a beam. That lens must have a mighty wide angle, by the way. What's more, the projector must be slid closer to the opening when in use."

"True. You know, in a way we were unlucky. If we had chanced to climb a tree when the ghost was actually appearing, we would have seen the projection lens through the mist as a bright spot of light, and that would have given the show away before this. But because of the angle, only someone in a tree could see it."

Rick shook his head in admiration. "Rear-screen projection with a wide-angle lens. That's really using movie technique for all it's worth."

"Rear-screen projection?" Scotty queried.

"Sure. Movies and TV use it all the time. When the hero is supposed to be watching dinosaurs fighting it out, he's actually standing in front of a big screen of special plastic or ground glass, with the picture projected on it from behind. The mist acted as the screen, so we saw the image but not the projector beam. That's rear-screen projection."

"I know how it works," Scotty said. "You can tell in a movie when they use it, because the definition of the background isn't as sharp as real photography, but I didn't know the name of the process."

Scotty turned and studied the location of the port. "He must place the projector right on the tunnel floor, tilted upward to shine through the port. That's why the ghost was so tall. It hit the mist at an angle."

Rick bent over the port. "Not hard to smack us in the eyes with methyl chloride from here, either. There we were, on our knees, faces in good range. And I'll bet he chuckled while he was doing it. Simple weapon, too. A water pistol. Or any plastic squirt bottle."

He tugged on the port and it failed to move. Something wrong here. He studied it carefully and saw the reason. It had to be slid sideways for a quarter of an inch, a safety-lock feature. No wonder their examination of the rock face outside had shown nothing.

"Open it," Scotty said. "Let's look."

Rick did so, and instantly closed it partly shut again. "Get down here and look," he commanded. He had seen at once what had happened during their absence and his quick mind had caused him to react.

There were men outside, several of them, and they were watching a small power scoop move into position in front of the lower mine entrance. Among them were Dr. Miller and Belsely. Away from the group, sitting on his tricycle scooter, was the Frostola man!

"We forgot about Belsely," Rick said softly. "He saw us, and may even have seen us go into the mine. Anyway, that's the first place he'd look when we turned up missing."

Scotty drew back and closed the port gently. "That power scoop can go right into the tunnel, scoop up a yard of rock and back out and dump it. It will have the tunnel cleared in no time. We'd better get out there and let them know we're safe."

"If they were breaking their backs with hard manual labor to get us out I'd yell through the port," Rick said gleefully. "But they aren't. So we'll let the scoop operate. It will remove that stuff in an hour. And when they open up, they'll find us."

Scotty looked at him suspiciously. "The tone of voice tells me you're whomping up something that will make someone unhappy. What is it?"

"Well, if we rush out and tell the world about this, everyone will know the ghost is a fake. But that won't help us much, because we'll still need to know the answer to the biggest question of all. Why do this? So we go back, use the time covering up the break between the tunnels so no one will suspect we know, and let ourselves be rescued. The ghost continues to operate, and so do we! Then, when we have the answer, I have a great idea for unmasking the ghost."



Scotty saw the reasoning at once. "Besides," he added, "if the Frostola man doesn't see us come out, he'll know the jig is up right now. So let's go."

They checked carefully to be sure no trace of their presence remained, then hurried back to the lower tunnel. Working carefully, they fitted rocks into the opening until a casual survey by flashlight would not reveal that the block between the tunnels had been removed. Then they spent the remaining time clearing more rocks from the original rockfall that had sealed them in.

When the power scoop finally broke through, the glare of headlights, turned on when darkness fell, revealed two dirty, disheveled, exhausted young men who were too fatigued for anything but a quick bath, a meal, and bed.



CHAPTER XIX

The Final Fact

Rick and Scotty slept late the following morning and were awakened for brunch by Dr. Miller. The boys took advantage of the few moments alone with the scientist to give him the complete story of their adventure in the tunnel, after which they pledged him to secrecy.

"It's one thing to tell people a ghost is a fake," Rick explained. "It's another to dramatize it. I'm working on an idea that may do it, but only if we keep quiet and make our plans carefully."

"I'll keep the secret," the scientist assured him. "And I won't even scold you for going into an obviously unsafe mine because I hope the hours before you found your way out were lesson enough. By the way, Belsely wants to talk with you. Call him when you've eaten."

"Yes, sir. And thank you."

During their combination lunch and breakfast, the boys had to put up with comments from Jan and Barby. Dr. Miller had refrained from scolding them for foolhardiness, but the girls were not so reticent. The boys bore it stoically, but Rick resolved not to divulge their secret to Barby at any cost. Let her get a shock with the rest of the ghost fanciers.

Belsely was out when they phoned, but he called back a short time later. "Meet me at the edge of the orchard," he requested. "Got to talk with you."

The boys excused themselves and went to keep the rendezvous.

"Didn't get a chance to talk with you last night," the farmer said. "Didn't you wonder a little at how fast rescue got to you?"

"We did at first," Rick explained. "Then we realized you had seen us. We waved at you and you waved back. So we guessed the mine was the first place you'd look."

"True, true. But that's only part of the story. I saw you go in the mine, you see. Then I went back to fence makin'. Pretty soon I heard the put-put of that scooter and along came the ice-cream man. He parked the scooter and sort of sniffed around here and there, and then he walked over and went into the mine. I did some sneakin' myself, to where I could see what he was doin'. He was looking at footprints, like he was an injun trackin' the hero on a Western TV show."

"Those must have been his tracks we saw on the way in," Scotty interjected. "Big feet, which he has, and a reason for wanting to know how far into the mine we'd gone the first time add up to Mr. Frostola."

"I suppose. Well, he went in a ways and stayed a bit, then he came out and went back to his scooter and just sat on it. Pretty soon there was a rumble, and a cloud of dust came pourin' out of the mine. I knew right away you was trapped in there. Had to be, from the noise. Don't know how he did it, though. There was no explosion."

Rick explained about the rotted timbers. "He could have done a little pushing, or even cutting into the rotten wood with a knife. That would have done it. Maybe he pushed until the beams started to crack and then hurried out, only it took a few minutes for the beam to let go all the way."

"That could have been it. Well, I wandered over and asked what the dust was, and he said cool as you please that he didn't know. Probably a cave-in inside somewhere. Well, I put on an act about you two poor lads goin' in and he pretended to get excited, too. We went in, and I tell you it looked bad."

"Looked bad from our side, too," Rick said.

"I believe it. It was a job for machinery, all right. I hurried to the house and told Dr. Miller, and we phoned town, but the man with the scoop was out on a job. The Frostola man was still hangin' around when I started for town, and he hadn't moved when I got back. I did nothin' about him because I wanted to talk to you first. Took some time for the scoop to get there, but it certainly did the job."

"And we're mighty grateful," Rick told the farmer. Scotty echoed him.

"By the way, Mr. Belsely, was anything ever said about a second tunnel in the mine?" Rick asked.

The farmer considered. "Seems to me there was some mention about such a second tunnel, back when I was a boy, but I never heard about it since. I was born and brought up in this town, and I've never seen a sign of one. Course that doesn't mean there never was, because it might have fallen in."

Rick made a quick decision. "It didn't," he stated. He went on to tell Belsely what had happened the day before, pledging him to quiet for a few days at least to give them a chance to solve the puzzle that remained.

The farmer was delighted. "This will give me a tale to tell from now on! Once you say I'm free to talk, that is. Well, whaddaya know! That spring pipe has been there since Hector was a pup, and no one ever wondered about why it went in the hill sideways until you came along! Of course Collins must have known—him and Hilleboe, because they were the ones who replaced the pipe a few years back."

Rick remembered that Dr. Miller had spoken of the pipe being replaced. If Collins and Hilleboe had put in the new pipe, they may have driven it into the hill as Dr. Miller had said, but they had most certainly connected it with the vertical pipe inside the tunnel.

"Likely," Belsely agreed. "One more thing. We got a daylight ghost today. Saw him arrive by car about half an hour ago. He went up to the cornfield with a suitcase of some kind. Thought you'd like to know."

They were delighted to know! The chance to see someone operating by daylight was too good to miss. They said a quick farewell to Belsely and hurried off across the field.

There was no one in sight as they crossed the picnic grounds, but when they climbed to the top of the hill and stood on the edge of the cornfield, they could see a man in khaki clothes bending over something between the rows of corn plants.

"Just what the ghosts were doing," Rick exclaimed. "Let's hurry and find out what he's up to!"

They walked swiftly down the rows of corn, making no attempt at concealment. This was a frontal attack. The stranger saw them coming and stood up.

Rick looked him over. The man was about forty, tanned and clean-shaven, with horn-rimmed glasses. Not at all a ghostly type.

The boys walked right up to the man and gave him a cordial hello, which the stranger returned.

"We couldn't help being curious," Rick said. "Do you mind if we watch?"

"Not at all." He indicated the open suitcase at his feet. It contained a built-in instrument with a meter and earphones. There was also a tubular attachment on the end of a thick wire.

Rick recognized it at once and a thrill shot through him. The stranger was somehow connected with the mystery.

"Isn't that a Geiger tube?" he asked.

The stranger answered casually, "That's what it is. This is called a survey meter. Most people know it as a Geiger counter. It's very sensitive."

Rick knew better, but he wanted to probe for more information. "Are you in Civil Defense by any chance?" he asked.

"Nope. I'm a geologist. My outfit is making a routine survey of the area for radioactive ores. We don't expect to find any, but there was a discovery in Maryland recently and we don't want to overlook any bets."

Rick was sure now that no bets were being overlooked. Any geologist would eliminate the area simply on the basis of its rock formations with no need of making a field survey.

He operated largely by instinct when there was a need, and this was clearly the right occasion. The man looked clean cut and respectable, and the daylight operation separated him from the nightly prowlers.

"You might find some Janigite around here," Rick said casually, and watched sharply for the reaction.

"Possibly. Saw an interesting sample of it yesterday." The stranger was offhand in his reply, but his eyes twinkled behind the glasses.

"So did we. It was wrapped in a cement bag."

The response was quick. The stranger held out his hand. "I'm Roger Bennett from the Atomic Energy Commission. You're the boys who notified JANIG about the cement bags."

Rick and Scotty identified themselves, and Bennett nodded. "I know John Gordon of the Spindrift staff. We worked together on a test project a few years ago. Now, what's the story?"

The boys told him what they knew, ending with yesterday's discovery.

The AEC man nodded. "This field is 'hot,' did you know that? It's obvious that powdered carnotite was spread here before the corn was planted. And from your story, it was spread in the field across the creek, too."

Ghosts with a cart had marched up and down the fields, hunting for the ghostly dead ... the image flashed through Rick's mind and he exclaimed, "The cart! That was why the ghosts needed the cart! They were lugging bags of powdered carnotite and spreading it around the fields when Belsely saw them!"

"You've hit it," Scotty agreed.

Rick explained to Bennett about the ghosts and the cart, and then added Belsely's reports on the times when two or three ghosts had walked the fields without a cart. "Scotty and I saw three of them once, and it's a cinch they were using a survey meter to check the ground for radioactivity. But why? That's what has us going around in ghastly, ghostly circles. Why spread carnotite and then come back to measure it?"

Bennett smiled. "I think I know, but I'd like to see this mine of yours. Can it be arranged?"

Scotty said swiftly, "I'd better act as a lookout to intercept the Frostola man if he comes. I'll delay him while you two go into the mine." He was gone at a ground-eating pace.

Rick led the AEC man to the hidden mine entrance. "I don't have a flashlight with me."

"No need. What we want will be right at the entrance, I'm sure."

They crawled in on hands and knees, the AEC man pushing his bag before him. Inside, he looked around and selected several small pieces of rock.

"We'll check the samples, but it's just a formality. I recognize this stuff. It's carnotite. You can see the yellow streaks clearly. That's the uranium color. Of course the rock is mostly gray, so that's the color of the powdered ore."

"Then the mine really contains radioactive ore?" Rick asked eagerly.

"Only what was put here, I'm afraid."

With this cryptic comment Bennett opened his case and checked the samples. Rick watched the meter climb. They were radioactive, all right, but of low ore level, not at all dangerous.

"We'd better get out of here," Bennett said. "I'd rather not be discovered at this point. When your friend Scott comes back I'll tell you what has happened."

Scotty rejoined them as they reached the cornfield again. They walked with Bennett to his car, and listened to an explanation that made everything clear.

"This is a game as old as mining," Bennett told them. "It has happened before, and it will happen again. Uranium is the treasure metal now, where gold used to be. So the game uses uranium. The game is known as salting."

"Salting?" Scotty asked. "I've heard it in connection with gold mines, but I can't remember exactly what it means."

"It means putting evidence of high-grade ore in a likely place, but one which actually contains no real pay dirt. For instance, in country where gold may be found, the technique for salting used to be firing gold nuggets into the ground with a shotgun, by replacing the buckshot with the nuggets. Then, when the victim was allowed to try panning gold for himself, he'd come up with the nuggets and think he was getting natural gold."

"And in this case, powdered carnotite was used in the fields, and chunks were put in the mine, to make victims think uranium was present," Rick added. He could see the picture pretty clearly now. "The carnotite was put in and then the field was planted with corn to make it look as innocent and natural as possible, I suppose."

"That's how I figure it. There's no uranium around here, except for the very small percentage that one can often find associated with some varieties of lead. We'll find that someone has been pulling a very cute confidence game, bringing clients here by night, showing them the radioactivity—by letting them hear the clicks in the earphone of a counter, probably—and then selling them either shares in a mine or pieces of property."

"And using the ghost to scare the townspeople away so there would be no interference," Rick finished. "But how can we prove all this?"

"You won't have to. I brought a man with me, and dropped him off in town. His name is Joe Taylor, and he's an FBI agent."

"The FBI?" Scotty looked puzzled. "But bunco games or con games, whatever you call them, aren't a federal offense! How does the FBI get in on it?"

"Because the carnotite was federal property. It was stolen from a loading platform at our Grand Junction facility. We know this, because there is no record of any transaction, and we can identify the source by the chemical composition of the sample."

"But how could anyone steal stuff from AEC?" Rick asked.

"Easily, in this case. There is no purpose in protecting ore with the same security we give the processed stages, like green salt, for example. No one could possibly steal enough ore to do any good, because it takes many tons to produce even a gram of uranium. Ore moves by carloads, on normal railroad or truck bills of lading, from private companies who mine it. No security is required, you see, because no one has the capability of getting out the metal even if they could steal thousands of tons of ore."

Rick understood this. He had seen the plant at Oak Ridge where uranium was extracted by the gas diffusion method. The plant covered acres. Only a government could afford such a facility.

"But couldn't the carnotite have been stolen from a privately owned mine?" he asked.

"Possibly, but we will assume it was in our hands when it was taken. This is because we want to discourage this kind of thing, and the FBI taking action is very discouraging to thieves."

The boys appreciated this viewpoint. "I hope the FBI doesn't interfere with Rick's plan for exposing the ghost," Scotty said.

"I don't think you'll find Taylor hard to persuade. I'll suggest he stop by and hear your story. It will help him. Then you can outline your own plans."

"We'll be waiting," Rick assured the AEC expert. "Before you go, what's your idea about the changing number of ghosts? Was that when the clients were brought to see the Geiger counter work?"

"That would be my guess," Bennett agreed. "You'll probably find that the ghost took them on a conducted survey of the mine and the fields to show them what valuable property he was offering for sale—or for shares in a mine."

Scotty objected, "But the ghost wore the luminous blue head. Any clients would think that was mighty peculiar, to put it mildly, unless they knew they were being parties to something illegal."

Bennett chuckled. "It's one of the key factors in a really big con game to make the client think he is getting something for nothing, or maybe even a shade outside the law. Confidence men say that everyone has a 'little larceny in his soul.' I'm sure that's not true, but enough people do so that they can be swindled by an illegal offer."

Rick snapped his fingers. "Dr. Miller's property, and the fact that Hilleboe owned only part of the mine! That's the reason for the ghosts that walked by night. It has to be! The swindlers would tell their clients only part of the land was available and they needed funds to buy the rest of it—but the inspection had to be held by night to keep the owner from suspecting he had a uranium mine on his property."

Bennett asked, "Was Dr. Miller actually approached with an offer to buy?"

"Yes," Scotty replied. "It was a good offer, too. That must mean the swindlers were doing a good business and needed more land to sell."

"Not necessarily. They probably wanted the Miller property more as a safety factor than anything else, in case someone got wind of what was going on and tried to horn in. They probably didn't actually sell land, only speculative shares in a mine to be developed. That's the usual technique. The secrecy and mystery, and having a phony ghost for a guide, were just added elements of drama to help with the selling. The clients thought they were in on a great big secret."

Rick grinned. "They were. We've just managed to untangle it, with your help."

"Delighted," Bennett said. "But you'll find Taylor much more of an expert than I. See you later, boys, I'm sure."

They watched as the AEC man drove off. "I'm pretty sure we have the answers," Rick said happily. "Hilleboe probably is the boss, since he owns the property, but Collins is in on it to some extent because he knew about the upper mine tunnel, and acted as agent for Hilleboe. And our pal the Frostola man is in it up to his hip pockets."

"He's the ghost," Scotty agreed. "Both in the tunnel when the machine is run, and at night when the ghost walks. At least he is part of the time. Of course there's no reason why someone else couldn't be the ghost, too, maybe two or three different people."

"Someone else was the ghost the first night," Rick remembered, "because the Frostola man was watching."

"Good thing we don't have to prove any of this," Scotty concluded. "The FBI is on the job. They'll get the proof."

"But we're the ones who'll bury the ghost for good," Rick promised.



CHAPTER XX

Death of a Ghost

Dr. Miller planned a large cook-out and picnic party in the mine area, and he issued invitations to people from the town of Lansdale, to the staff of Spindrift Island's scientific foundation, to Mr. Bennett of the AEC, and to a number of folks who preferred for reasons of their own to remain anonymous for the time being.

The reason, Dr. Miller said, was to get all his friends together for one big shindig before he and his family returned to Spindrift Island where a new project was waiting.

Even Jan and Barby knew no other reason than this.

Meanwhile, the boys were busy preparing to "bury the ghost for good." What made the plan difficult was that it had to be done publicly, and in such a way that it wouldn't interfere with police activities.

The boys met with Taylor, the FBI agent. He was a good-natured young man who might have been a lawyer, but under the attractive grin and ready chuckle, Rick could sense that Taylor could be a very tough man indeed if need be. The agent listened to their plans and laughed outright.

"I like it," he said. "We must do this, if only for the effect on the Frostola man when he sees what has happened. It's turning the tables on that joker, and he deserves it."

Rick sensed more than met the ear in that statement. "You know something about him?" he asked.

"Quite a bit. He's not exactly Public Enemy Number One, or even Number Fifty, but he's well known to the police of most large cities. He specializes in confidence games with a technical angle. He's quite original. You can bet he dreamed this whole thing up and planned it down to the last detail, then sold the others on it. I don't know how he met Hilleboe, but we'll find out. Of course he met Collins through Hilleboe."

"Does the Frostola company know he exists?"

"Sure. He wouldn't slip on a detail like that. He got the job without difficulty, since the route was vacant. If it hadn't been vacant, he'd have worked out some other kind of cover."

Rick made a telephone call to a friend in New York, and as a consequence had to fly to Washington National Airport in two days to pick up a small package.

Mr. Belsely let it be known around town that Dr. Miller didn't really want to hold the party at the mine area because of the ghost, but had no other place large enough—and he had to give the party for professional reasons; his scientific friends had long wanted to see his Virginia home. The farmer made sure the Frostola man heard the story.

There was only one final step necessary on the day of the big event. With Belsely watching one road and Scotty watching the other, Rick went into the upper mine tunnel for the last time. He had with him equipment and a specially made item that was essential to his plans. He worked swiftly, sure that the Frostola man wouldn't notice the slight change, which involved only a foot of film on the continuous strip.

He finished and called Belsely and Scotty off their posts. Now all was in readiness.

There were gallons of potato salad and coleslaw, mountains of rolls, barrels of punch, and enough hot dogs to feed a small army. Wood was piled for the fires, paper plates were stacked high. All was in readiness.

Rick flew again to Washington and made connections with the plane that brought his parents and Julius Weiss, the little mathematician. The other Spindrifters were out of town, so couldn't come.

It was a gala occasion, enjoyed by everyone. Rick ate half a dozen hot dogs himself, while Scotty maintained his reputation as a good trencherman with two on top of that. They consumed salad until the bursting point was near, and so was darkness.

Then Rick wandered casually over to a parked car where one man, replete with picnic chow, was listening to his radio.

It wasn't a broadcast receiver, however. The man was a lieutenant of the Virginia State Police. His car was radio equipped, although not identified as a police car. It kept him in touch with his men.

"Your boy went into the mine a few minutes ago," he reported.

Rick breathed a sigh of relief. Now, if the ghost producer didn't examine things too closely ... but he wouldn't. Everything looked normal, and the extra film wasn't prominent.

It was almost nine o'clock.

Rick found Scotty. "Let's get grandstand seats."

"Okay."

Barby, Jan, and the Millers had a table directly under the tree in which the boys had waited in vain for the Blue Ghost, and had hidden from the night prowlers. This was no accident. Rick's mother and father were with the group. Weiss was off at another table with Bennett of the AEC, deep in a discussion of some obscure point of nuclear physics.

A car drove up and Rick waited to see who emerged. One person who was missing had arrived just in time. Rick walked over and told the FBI agent to get a good location from which to watch the show.

"Just got in from Washington," Taylor said. "We picked up Hilleboe and three associates. They talked freely when they saw we had 'em cold. Been actually selling pieces of the land, through Collins, at fantastic prices. We'll pick up Collins on the way back tonight."

Rick saw him to a good location and rejoined Scotty. They hurriedly told the folks at the table that they wanted grandstand seats and went up into the tree. Besides having a good seat, Rick also wanted to see if he was correct about being able to see the bright projector lens from the tree.

Now that they knew what to look for, it was absurdly simple. They couldn't see the port open, but they saw the white flash of dry ice as it dropped from the port into the pool.

The mist rose.

The party group was silent now. Only a very few knew what the outcome would be; most knew only that the Blue Ghost was about to appear.

The mist thickened, expanded.

The Blue Ghost materialized. He held out his hands to an invisible loved one. He looked appealing.

He recoiled, then put hands to his chest. They came away bloody. He stretched them out ...

And then a new sequence materialized in the mist, a sequence of words in stark red against the icy white of the background.

BE PREPARED! BUY BLUE GHOST HEALTH INSURANCE

For a long breath there was shocked silence, then the crowd below dissolved into laughter.

"Let's go," Rick shouted.

He would have given much to see Barby's expression, but time was running out and he and Scotty had ground to cover. They dropped from the tree, scrambled up the hill past where the white mist was fading, and dashed across the cornfield.

"Hurry!" Scotty exclaimed.

"I'm hurrying," Rick assured him, but made his legs go faster.

They went across the hilltop with great strides, broke into the open beyond the cornfield, dodged thorns, and panted to a stop just above the opening of the second tunnel.

The fast sprint had gotten them there in time.

The Frostola man spurted from the tunnel as though a real ghost was after him.

Four state troopers grabbed him so fast that his legs continued to make running motions even after his feet were lifted off the ground.

Rick caught a glimpse of blue light from the corner of his eye and whirled to see the Blue Ghost approaching! For a moment he thought a real ghost had somehow appeared to be in on the capture of the phony one, then at close range he saw that the ghostly head was nothing more than a transparent plastic head of the kind used to display men's hats.

The apparition walked up to the speechless Frostola man and said calmly, "Boo!"

Taylor, the FBI agent, removed the apparatus from his head; Rick recognized him in the blue glow. "We found your other head underneath the ice cream in your scooter," he said conversationally. "In the false bottom. We also found your Geiger counter. Any comments?"

The Frostola man had recovered somewhat from the shock of his capture.

"What can I say?" he demanded. "When I saw that wordage on the mist, I knew someone was onto the act. I only delayed long enough to read it—backward—from where I was. Then I got out and ran into troopers. All right. You found the secret of the ghost, and that I have a Geiger counter. So what? Practical jokes aren't illegal, and anyone can own a survey meter."

"But selling shares in a nonexistent mine with intent to defraud is quite a different matter," the agent said. "We've been collecting evidence for a few days, including some from clients of yours who were interested in knowing the field had been salted. And we've picked up Collins and Hilleboe."

The Frostola man sighed. "Well, it was good while it lasted. I suspected things were getting risky when those two kids charged into the mist, but I hoped maybe the cold spray had cooled them down a little. When it didn't, I tried to scare them off by trapping them in the mine. No intent to harm, either. I knew they'd be dug out in short order."

"We were," Rick agreed. "Only while the rescuers were digging in, we were busy finding the upper tunnel. After that, it was easy."

"I saw the rescue," the Frostola man said. "You came out the same way you went in. That fooled me completely; I just figured you hadn't gone beyond the pile of rocks between the tunnels."

A trooper sergeant pointed to the police car waiting on the dirt road. "Come on. We'll take a ride to town and get you booked. Don't worry about your scooter. It will be taken care of."

"Eat all the ice cream you want," the Frostola man said grandly. "Be my guests. I won't be needing it."

"Not for some years," Taylor agreed. "Come on, lads. Let's get back to the picnic."

"We're with you," Rick said. "Lead the way." He chuckled suddenly. "It was a pretty good effect, wasn't it? The lab did a good job, and the Frostola man didn't see that a new chunk had been spliced in."

"A very good effect," Scotty agreed. "Only stand by for misery and woe. Barby and Jan won't like this! After all, we destroyed a historic romance."

The picnic crowd was eating again when the boys returned. They located the family and Rick strained to see the girls' faces, but it was too dark.

Barby's voice said sternly, "Is that you, Rick Brant?"

He admitted it, rather meekly. "Uh-uh."

"Rick Brant! You knew all the time ... I mean, while Jan and I were ..."

Barby's voice was trembling. He thought she was in tears. He hoped not; she shouldn't take legends so seriously ...

Agent Taylor joined the group and chuckled. "You should have seen that Frostola man come out of the tunnel! I guess that final commercial shocked him silly."

"He wasn't the only one," Barby said swiftly, and to Rick's amazement she and Jan Miller burst into peals of laughter.

This wasn't the reaction Rick had expected. "But the romance," he said doubtfully. "I mean, you should be brokenhearted ..."

"I'll never understand girls," Scotty said darkly.

"It was like sitting through the same movie too many times," Barby explained.

Jan added, "Really, we were getting a little bored with the same act. If the ghost had only changed his routine a little ..."

There was real pride in Barby's voice as she declared, "And how do you get rid of a boring ghost? You get my brother Rick to turn him into a commercial. Rick Brant's Sponsored Spooks!"

Rick was so relieved at Barby's reaction that he let her have the last word. Besides, there were new events to think about, for Hartson Brant had brought word of a new project the Spindrift Foundation had agreed to undertake, one that would shake the very earth to its depths, and one in which Rick Brant and Scotty would play a major part.



The RICK BRANT SCIENCE-ADVENTURE Stories

BY JOHN BLAINE

THE ROCKET'S SHADOW

THE LOST CITY

SEA GOLD

100 FATHOMS UNDER

THE WHISPERING BOX MYSTERY

THE PHANTOM SHARK

SMUGGLERS' REEF

THE CAVES OF FEAR

STAIRWAY TO DANGER

THE GOLDEN SKULL

THE WAILING OCTOPUS

THE ELECTRONIC MIND READER

THE SCARLET LAKE MYSTERY

THE PIRATES OF SHAN

THE BLUE GHOST MYSTERY

THE END