"They're afraid of ghost fish," Rick said. "The place is haunted."
The man grinned. "I heard about the ghost. If he shows up I'll sell him a cream pie."
"Sell me one," Rick invited, and Scotty echoed the thought.
"Pleasure." The man got off the seat and Rick saw that he was over six feet tall, and built like a sapling. The boy also saw that he wasn't as young as he at first appeared. That was odd, because the peddlers on scooters were usually either very young or old.
The Frostola man opened the seat box and the boys looked in, at neat stacks of ice cream packaged in various ways. The stuff was kept frozen by slabs of dry ice wrapped in brown paper.
The cream pies were on a stick, and coated with chocolate, butterscotch, and vanilla with coconut. Rick paid for his selection and Scotty's, then commented, "It's a long way out here from town."
"Sure. But I enjoy the ride. It's a chance to get away from howling mobs of kids."
A strange comment from one who made most of his sales to kids, Rick thought. He noticed that the peddler was eying the bag Scotty had picked up, and was trying to be surreptitious about it. Anyone would be curious about someone carrying a moldy bag, but why try to conceal that curiosity? On impulse, Rick said, "There's a trash can, Scotty. Throw the bag away and let's go." To the peddler, he added, "We're doing our bit to keep the place clean."
"Good thing to do," the man admitted.
The boys got in the car. Rick turned it around and headed for town. The rear-view mirror told him that the Frostola man watched them until the trees hid them from view.