stly 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 sens