's blue eyes sparkled, as did Jan's brown ones. Both were
intent on having their say, and as a result, the boys understood
neither.

Not until hands had been shaken all around did the excited chatter of
the girls begin to make sense. Apparently the very field where the boys
had just landed was haunted. The ghost had walked this ground on more
than one occasion, the latest being last night, with dogs howling and
men running from the ghostly sight.

Dr. Miller finally quieted the two down. "Let's tell our tale in good
order, or we'll simply confuse our visiting detectives. Come on, boys.
Let's go to the house. We have some lunch waiting."

The boys collected their bags, then set up the plane's alarm system. It
consisted of an electrified fence that would set off a loud klaxon horn
if touched. The plane itself would also trigger the alarm if touched.
The alarm could be stopped only by inserting the key in the locked door.

As the group walked from the plane to the Miller house, Rick checked his
impressions with the view from the air. The house, and the field on
which he had landed, were on the north side of the creek. A half mile
below the house, the dirt road leading to the Miller farm crossed the
creek on an old military Bailey bridge. Across the creek the road
vanished into a forest that came right down to the creek's edge.

Rick knew from his overhead view that the forest was only a hundred
yards wide along the creek. Beyond it were more fields, interspersed
with patches of trees and a few uncultivated areas that were too rocky
for farming.

It was a lovely countryside, and Rick enjoyed it. The Miller house was
in an orchard on which a bumper crop of Virginia apples already was in
evidence.

The house itself had once been a large farmhouse. The Millers had
remodeled it, keeping the charm of the old while adding the convenience
of the new. Rick felt at home right away, and he saw that Scotty did,
too.

Over an excellent lunch of charcoal-broiled hamburgers, salad, and iced
tea, Dr. Miller asked, "Who's going to tell the tale?"

Both girls started talking at once. Mrs. Miller, an attractive, stylish
woman, raised her hands. "Please! Jan, suppose you start with the
history of the ghost. Then, Barby, you take over and tell what we saw
the other night."

"All right, Mother," Jan began. "The ghost isn't new, you see. We've had
a blue ghost here for centuries!"

Rick's eyebrows went up. "A _blue_ ghost?"

"Yes