The Millers could think of none, but Mrs. Miller suggested that Belsely, their tenant, would know of anything new or unusual. Rick agreed to talk with him.
At eight o'clock, armed with flashlights, the boys departed for the old mine. They approached the area with caution, on the alert for any possible visitors. But the picnic ground was completely abandoned.
A quick inspection of the mine showed only their own footprints. The boards had been left off the entrance during their earlier inspection, and apparently no one had been there since. Then, at Scotty's suggestion, they looked for a place of concealment from which to hold vigil.
Rick found it, high in an oak. It was an easy climb, and from the huge limb they could look through a screen of foliage and see without being seen. Both boys were satisfied that they were unobserved. No humans knew they were in the vicinity.
The Virginia mosquitoes were not so easily deceived. Both boys were promptly located by a scouting party, and mosquito communications went into fast operation. Within a few minutes the entire local mosquito air force had invaded the tree. Rick waved his hands futilely at the whining swarm and muttered unhappily, "There are so many they have to line up for a bite."
"I know," Scotty replied in a whisper. "I wonder if they bite ghosts?"
"We'll soon see. It's a few minutes to nine."
In spite of the insects, the boys concentrated on the catch basin, alert for any sign of the ghost. Their flashlights were ready to probe the apparition if it should appear.
Rick glanced occasionally at the luminous dial of his watch. Then, on the stroke of nine, he whispered, "Now."
Nothing happened. The boys bore the mosquitoes stoically and waited. Not until his watch showed 9:15 did Rick speak aloud. "Let's get out of here. I doubt that the ghost will be any later than this. He's not performing tonight."