More Adventures Of The Great Brain (15 page)

   
“
Ohhhhhhh
!” the ghost cried out in a shrill high voice. “It is so cold and dark in that grave.”

   
Then he saw us and the most shrill and terrifying cackling laughter came from him I’d ever heard.

   
My feet felt as if they were nailed to the ground and my tongue suddenly got so big I couldn’t even scream. I could feel the hair on my head standing as stiff as bristles on a hairbrush. I could hear all the other kids except Tom screaming with terror. They all took off, running
lickity
-split down the trail.

   
Tom grabbed my arm and spun me around as the ghost started coming toward us. “Let’s get out of here!” he shouted as he gave me a push.

   
My feet came loose from the ground, and my tongue got small again. I let out a terrified scream and ran like sixty down the trail with Tom behind me and the sound of that crazy, horrible, cackling laughter of the ghost in my ears.

   
By the time Tom and I reached the corner of Corry Street and turned onto Whiskey Row, the other kids were a block in front of us. And who do you think was in the lead? My big brother Sweyn!

I took out after them, and if I’d ever run that fast at the foot races at the County Fair, I’d have won every prize. I thought the other kids would wait for us when they reached the town limits of Adenville, but they didn’t. I learned the next day none of them stopped until they were safe in their own beds.

   
When Tom and I climbed through our bedroom window, my oldest brother was sitting on my bed puffing like a racehorse. Tom and I sat down beside him, and boy, were we puffing too. I never thought I could run more than a mile at top speed, but I did that night.

   
Sweyn was the first to get his breath. “I hope your great brain doesn’t get any more crazy ideas,” he whispered so Mamma, Papa, and Aunt Bertha wouldn’t hear us downstairs. “And don’t ever try to tell me again there is no ghost of Silverlode.”

   
“My great brain still tells me there is no such thing as a ghost,” Tom whispered.

   
“Then your great brain has shrunk down to the size of a pea,” Sweyn said. “We saw the ghost come right up out of its grave, and we heard the ghost. What more do you want? And I didn’t see you standing there and telling the ghost there was no such thing as a ghost.”

   
“At least I wasn’t leading the pack like you,” Tom said. “I made sure J.D. got out of there because I knew he was plenty scared.”

“And you weren’t,” Sweyn said sarcastically.

   
“Why should I have been?” Tom asked. “Did you ever hear of a ghost who physically harmed anybody?”

“Then why did you run?” Sweyn asked.

   
“Because my big Academy brother ran like a scared rabbit and left J.D. standing there petrified with fright,” Tom said.

   
Sweyn got up from the bed. “Just count me out of any more crazy ideas you get,” he said. “I’m going to bed.”

   
Tom and I got undressed and into bed. Then a reaction set in on me. I began to shiver and whimper with fright.

“Go to sleep,” Tom said.

   
“How can I?” I asked. “That ghost is going to haunt us for sure for disturbing him. I don’t care what your great brain tells you. For my money that was an honest-to-goodness ghost.”

   
“Maybe it was and maybe it wasn’t,” Tom said. “If it was a ghost, my great brain won’t rest until I get a chance to talk to it and find out what makes a ghost, and why they go around haunting places and people. And if it isn’t a real ghost, my great brain won’t rest until I find out
who
has been scaring the daylights out of kids and grownups all these years.”

   
“Well, all I can say is that you’re not going to get any help from me,” I said.

   
When I woke up in the morning, I was
more sure
than ever that Tom wouldn’t get any help from me. I had nothing but terrible nightmares all night with ghosts chasing me.

   
After we’d finished our morning chores, Tom went up to his loft to think. This was one time I hoped his great brain had sense enough to tell him to leave ghosts alone.

   
That afternoon we went swimming. Parley, Sammy, Danny, Seth, and Basil went with us. They all looked red-eyed as if they’d had the same kind of nightmares I’d had. We talked about the ghost on our way to the swimming hole. Everybody agreed it was a sure-enough ghost except Tom.

   
“My great brain won’t rest until I find out if it was a real ghost,” Tom said.

   
Basil shook his head. “If you don’t find out last night, you never do.”

“And,” I said, “
your
great brain is never going to get any rest as far as I’m concerned.”

The others nodded in agreement.

   
“All I want you to do is to go to Silverlode with me again tonight,” Tom said. “If we see and hear the ghost again, then I’ll believe in ghosts. But maybe we all just imagined we saw and heard a ghost last night.
How about it?”

This time Tom didn’t get one volunteer.

   
“Are you cowards or men?” Tom demanded. “I say anybody who refuses to go is a coward.”

Tom had us over a barrel.

“I’ll go.” Parley was the first to volunteer.

   
The rest of us had to admit we were cowards or meet Tom outside our barn that night.

   
Well, I sure wouldn’t have volunteered if I’d known what Tom planned to do that night. I would have cheerfully let every kid in town call me a coward first. But I didn’t know until we went up to our room that night.

   
“I didn’t want to tell the other kids, J.D.,” Tom said as we waited for the curfew whistle to blow, “but tonight I’m going to capture that ghost or whatever it is. And you are going to help me.”

   
“Oh, no, I’m not,” I said. “The ghost of Silverlode never did me any harm and won’t as long as I leave him alone.”

“Oh, yes, you are,” Tom said.

   
“What are you going to do with a ghost if you do capture it?” I asked, hoping that would make him change his mind.

   
“If it is a real ghost,” Tom said, “I’ll interview it. I’ll find out all about ghosts and Papa can print the story in the Advocate. It will make him world-famous. You wouldn’t do anything to prevent Papa from becoming a world-famous journalist would you?”

“Of course not,” I answered.

   
“That is why I knew you would help me,” Tom said. “And if it isn’t a real ghost like my great brain tells me, I’ll find out who has been scaring kids and grownups by pretending to be a ghost.”

   
The curfew whistle finally blew. We met the other kids in front of our barn. Tom went into the barn, where I’d locked up my dogs. When he came out, he was carrying Sweyn’s lariat.

Sammy pointed at it. “Why the lariat?” he asked.

“I’ll tell you when we get there,” Tom said.

   
Again we sneaked without being seen to the town limits and then walked to the corner of Whiskey Row and Corry Streets.

   
“Now I’ll tell you fellows about the lariat,” Tom said. “I’m going to capture that ghost or whatever it is tonight. You fellows stay here for five minutes. That will give J.D. and me time to sneak up that other trail leading to a mine in back of the cemetery. I’m going to sneak up behind the ghost or whatever it is when he steps in front of the tombstone and lasso him to the tombstone.”

“Not me,” Seth said. “I’m going home right now.”

   
“You have nothing to be afraid of,” Tom said. “If the ghost is going to be mad at anybody it will be J.D. and me for trying to capture him and not you fellows.”

   
“How will we know when it is five minutes?” Sammy asked.

   
“All you’ve got to do is count slowly up to three hundred,” Tom said. “Then go up the trail to where we were last night. Stay there until the ghost appears and stands up in front of that big tombstone. Then you can all beat it home.

That is, unless you want to stay and help me capture the ghost.”

Tom sure didn’t get any volunteers that time.

   
“J.D. and I will leave now, so you can start counting,” Tom said.

   
I had no choice but to follow my brother or be branded a coward. I knew Papa would rather see me dead than walking around a coward. And I was sure I was going to drop dead from fright if nothing else that night.

   
Tom ran with me down Whiskey Row to another street, where we turned to the right. We ran softly to the end of that street and then began to walk carefully and quietly up a trail that led to a mine in back of Boot Hill. Then we crawled on our hands and knees through the cemetery until we came to the big marble tombstone in back of the big tombstone of Mr. Tinker’s grave. We were only about thirty feet from where we’d seen the ghost the night before. Tom peeked around the tombstone where we were hiding.

   
“There is something fishy about this,” he whispered to me. “The ghost or whatever it is
is
hiding behind the Tinker tombstone.”

   
My curiosity overcame my fright. I peeked around the headstone. Sure enough, I could see something white crouched behind the tombstone in front of us.

   
Then we heard the footsteps of the kids coming up the trail to Boot Hill, Again I peeked around the tombstone. I saw them stop where we had all stopped the night before. Then the ghost got up from behind the headstone and stepped around in front of it with his back toward us, facing the other kids.

   
“
Ohhhhhh
!” the ghost cried in that high shrill voice of his. “It is so cold and dark in that grave.” Then he began that terrible cackling laughter that sent chills all over my body. I stared with fascinated horror as Tom got up and walked toward the ghost. He stopped about fifteen feet from the ghost and made a loop in the lariat. The kids began to scream with terror and run down the trail. Tom began to whirl the lariat over his head. It made a whining noise which the ghost couldn’t hear because of his cackling laughter and the screaming of the kids. Then Tom made a perfect throw with the lariat. The noose dropped smack over the ghost and the big tombstone. Tom jerked it tight and then began running around the big tombstone and the ghost, making coil after coil of rope, tying the ghost to the tombstone. When the end of the lariat got short, Tom stopped behind the tombstone and tied it with a slipknot to the noose of the lariat.

   
The ghost wasn’t cackling that crazy laughter anymore. He was hogtied to that tombstone like a calf at a rodeo.

   
Tom motioned for me to follow him as he ran down the trail toward Corry Street. I sure didn’t need any encouragement.

   
I guess the ghost was so surprised he couldn’t think of anything to say until then.

   
“Come back and let me go!” I heard him shouting. “I won’t hurt you!”

   
Tom and I didn’t stop until we reached Whiskey Row. “I got him tied so he can’t get away,” he said puffing. “You go get Papa and Uncle Mark. I’ll wait here.”

   
I tried to speak but couldn’t for a moment. I was so chilled with fright I felt as if I was in a bathtub filled with ice.

   
“I thought you were going to interview the ghost,” I finally managed to say and my voice sounded as if it was far away.

“I decided to let Papa
do that
if it is a real ghost,” Tom said. “Now go get him and Uncle Mark.”

   
I didn’t stop running until I flung open the front door of our house and entered the parlor, where Papa, Mamma, and Aunt Bertha were sitting. They all stood up at the same time and stared at me as if I’d popped right up out of the floor.

“What are you doing out of bed?” Mamma demanded.

   
Papa looked at the dirt and cockleburs sticking to my Levi britches and shirt. “And where in the name of Jupiter have you been?” he asked.

   
I tried to talk but couldn’t because my breath was like fire coming out of my lungs.

   
Papa began to pound me on the back to try and help me catch my breath. Mamma ran into the kitchen and came back with a glass of water. With Papa pounding my back and Mamma getting some water down my throat, at last I could talk.

   
“T.D. has captured the ghost of Silverlode!” I cried. “He has the ghost tied to a tombstone in Boot Hill and wants you to come interview it, and bring Uncle Mark!”