Somehow he got his legs moving. He and Scotty went up the steep slope, scrambling right toward the thing that was now holding out bloody hands!
They were in the mist! Rick sensed the blueness around him, and with sick horror realized that the ghost continued his act as though they were not even there.
Scotty yelled, and in the same instant sharp pain swept across Rick's face. Bitter, terrible cold encompassed him, turned the skin on his face rigid, seared his eyeballs with cold so intense it was like burning heat. He staggered and fell, hands clutching his frozen face. He tried to yell for help and couldn't. He rolled down the hillside that he had climbed seconds before, and Scotty's falling body crashed into him, knocked the breath from him.
And overhead, the vision of the Union cavalry officer, face distorted in agony, faded slowly from sight, leaving only the icy, billowing mist.
CHAPTER XII
The Dead Water
Hands lifted Rick and Scotty to their feet and voices demanded to know what had happened. Other voices berated them, calling them a pair of young idiots for rushing a ghost like that.
Rick staggered in the grip of the supporting hands. His heart was pounding and there was a constriction in his chest. Tears streamed down his cheeks as his tear ducts spouted fluid to protect his eyes from the now-vanishing cold. His cheeks felt numb, but sensation was returning.
At last he regained his equilibrium and found his handkerchief. He mopped his face and suddenly realized that his face was flushed, as though with fever. The sensation of burning cold was gone. He took a deep breath, grateful to be nearly normal again.