“He’s gone and now we shall never know who the ghost was,” said Janet.
Tom and Jim exchanged a fleeting glance that only Gale seemed to see.
“Well, Gale gives a good imitation of a spook,” was Carol’s declaration. “Imagine, throwing rocks at the floor to scare us all out of our well earned sleep.”
“I was only demonstrating how it was done for my own satisfaction,” Gale laughed.
The nine of them were jogging along on their horses. They had had their breakfast while they discussed the disappearance of the ghost. For the man whom Gale had thought imprisoned in the lower tunnel had gone when Jim and Tom let themselves down on the rope ladder. They had not explored the tunnel to its full length so they were not sure, but they surmised that there must be another exit some place along the passage and it was this that the mysterious stranger had used. They had all endeavored to go back to sleep, but their rest was fitful and broken. They had eaten an early breakfast and now, two hours later, found them picking their way through cactus and undergrowth to the distant hills.
“Git along little dogie, git along, git along,” Janet sang lustily.
“I wish I had brought some cotton,” Carol commented darkly, “for my ears,” she added at Janet’s curious glance. “Then I wouldn’t have to listen to you sing.”
“Oh, you don’t appreciate a good voice when you hear it,” was Janet’s retort.
“A good voice, I do,” Carol declared, and moved her pony so that Gale was between her and Janet. “But who ever told you----”
“What? Not another musical person?” Madge demanded as Tom blew vigorously on his harmonica.