“And I have the feeling,” I groaned, “that we’ll be carried out in pieces.”
“The tracks go this way,” Scoop said, advancing.
“I wish my tracks were going the other way.”
“Let’s not talk,” he advised. “The ghost might hear us.”
“I hope he does,” I said, “and runs.” [[206]]
This kind of crazy talk sort of stiffened my wabbly knees. And soon I was keeping abreast of my companion, just as brave as he was.
We followed the tracks up two flights of stairs to the third floor, then down a long hall. The closed chamber doors on our right and left gave me an uneasy feeling.
We were now almost to the hall’s end. Pausing, we sharpened our ears. Then we crept to a closed door where the tracks showed in and out.
“Hands up!” he shouted, pushing open the door and bounding into the room.
But the ghost wasn’t there!