Rick asked, "What were the wind and the laughter the last time we were in here?"
"Imagination," Scotty replied. "Let's keep it under control this time."
"I'm with you. And ghosts don't blow out flashlights, so let's go."
They moved cautiously past the unsafe place, lights probing the tunnel walls for a sign of anything unusual or worthy of attention. Now and then they reached a bay where ore had been taken out, or a jog in the tunnel where the miners had lost the ore vein temporarily. They reached the spot of their penetration into the mine on their last visit and found the remains of their torches.
"No change. Thought they might have been chewed by ghosts," Scotty commented.
"Newsprint doesn't taste good," Rick replied. "Do ghosts have teeth?"
"Nope, just an icy breath. Do you remember any smell, by the way? When we got hit in our faces?"
"Something sort of sweet?"
"Yes. I wasn't thinking about smelling, and I didn't notice especially, but I sort of recall a nice odor."
Rick thought he remembered it, too. "We'll look up methyl chloride in the dictionary," he promised. "That will tell us if it has an odor."