THE GHOST TRAIL.

Press, Volume LXXVI, Issue 23053, 22 June 1940, Page 4 (Supplement)

THE GHOST TRAIL.

' Johnny Dyne swung round sharply, and blinked through his black-rimmed spectacles at Joe Dabblin. “Did you say ghosts?” Johnny ’ asked. He was known at Mangahapara High School as Soberside, detective, the boy who never smiled, and was always anxious to know the details of every scrap 6f information he heard. Joe Dabblin, to whom the question . was addressed, spent most of bis spare time experimenting with an explosive which he claimed would be the most powerful in the • world —if only it would explode. “Yes,” Joe replied. “There are ghosts near the old dairy factory just outside the town. Jimmy Strugg says he’s seen ’em stacks of. times when he’s been passing at night.” ■ “Oh,” Soberside said, doubtfully, remembering Jimmy Strugg’s reputation for romancing. “He reckons it’s dinkum,” Joe retorted, as he began to elaborate. “Says they’ve got long white faces, white beards and bright flashing eyes. Some of ’em have horns, too.” “Some of them!” Soberside exclaimed. “How many are tliere?” “Dozens of ’em, Jimmy says,” Joe explained. Soberside nodded understandingly. He was. certain now that James was romancing. However, he saw no harm in having a look at the old dairy factory by night, and said so to. Joe and Tiny Tanning. Tiny was quite the opposite to what his nickname suggested, and was the biggest boy in the school. “I’ve got a way- of frightening ghosts,” Tiny said. “I’ll bring my gadget along -/ith me.” He put his forefinger wisely over his nose, but would offer no further explanation. “And I’ll bring one of my bombs,” Joe offered. "Going to smoke ’em out,” Tiny suggested, laughing at his allusion to the main feature of the Dabblinite bombs. “It’ll blow ’em to smithereens,” Joe boasted. “My explosive 'is ' perfect now. I added a few more ingredients. They .were- . Now, I wonder what'they: were.” . ' * Tiny and ; Soberside left Joe wondering, and' began to make arrangements for the evening’s excursion. The trio met 6s arranged, and were soon at the gate which led to the old dairy factory, which stood some distance back from the road. The building was little more than a shell, having been almost completely demolished, and the ground on which it stood was oyergrown With blackberry. Taking the electric lamps from their bicycles, they climbed quietly over the gate, and began making their way towards the old building. They did not show their lights so as not to disclose their presence to the “ghosts.” Tiny hugged a,bulky parcel, but still refused to say what it contained. Joe patted the ; little square box in his pocket to make sure that his bomb was still there. ■ ‘ Suddenly there was a movement close to them. Tipy flashed on his lamp. Only a short distance away were two bright, staring eyes. The face was long and white, with a white, tuft of beard. There were the' horns, too. jutting out above the‘-eyes. For a moment, the three boys held their , breath. Then the, ghostlike head in ; front of them was lowered towards the ground, and the hideous thing moved quickly

(By V. B. Murray)

towards them. A prickly feeling ran under their scalps and travelled down their spines, as they hesitated for a moment. Then they turned and fled for the gate. ! They scrambled over just in time. Something hard crashed against the gate, and the boys turned round to look, all three flashing their torches on their pursuer, It was a goat! Tiny burst out laughing. Joe scratched his head. ■ Soberside mumbled to himself. - “Not ghosts but goats,” he said. “Dozens of them.” He flashed his torch over the gate, and saw a large number of bright, staring eyes. “Joe,” Soberside added. “Master James Strugg has put one over us.”

“Anyway,” Tiny suggested. “Let’s go on to the old factory. We can get in from the next paddock. The factory is only a few yards from the fence there. I want to try out my- aeroplane.” “Your aeroplane!” Soberside. and Joe chorused. “Yes,” Tiny replied. “I’ve been building model aeroplanes lately, and I brought with me a special indoor model. It’s as light as a feather, and flies round in small circles. I painted the propeller with phosphorus so that I could see it floating round in the darkness of the old factory. I thought it might also help to scare the ghosts—if any.” So they climbed the fence into the next paddock, and were soon beside the walls of the old building. Everything was deathly quiet. A few motor-cars rushed past on the main road,, and the slight breeze sighed through the tall pine trees which towered up beside them in the darkness, . but apart from that there was no sound. The silence was so intense that the boys dared not talk in anything but whispers. “Good place for a murder," Tiny suggested in a low chuckle. They were standing at the end of the building, looking into the darkness through an opening that was once a window.

“I’ll let my aeroplane go frpm here,” Tiny said, as he bent down to open up his parcel. “It’s made from microfilm, a light transparent film that is the lightest thing next to a spider web. The framework is made from very light wood cut very thin.” Handling the frail thing very gently and shielding it with his body, from the light breeze, Tiny turned the propeller in order to wind up the elastic strips which gave the motive power. Then he climbed through the window, followed by his , two ■ friends. In a few minutes, Tiny was hold : ing the model above his head, poising it ready for release. He took his hand from the propeller, and allowed the craft to glide gently away. In the the only thing visible was the phosphorescent propeller, as it turned noiselessly without any of the rattle and whirr associated with the stronger outdoor models. The small circle of light made by the revolving propeller went

slowly through the air, taking a wide sweep along the wall of the old building, gradually turning inwards in its circular route. “Great little model, isn’t it?” Tiny whispered enthusiastically. “Why don’t you take up model-building, Joe, instead of wasting your time on explosives that won’t explode?” “My Dabblinite’s perfect now,” Joe protested, “only I can]t remember what I did to make it perfect.” By that time, the model was at the far end of the building. They could see the. luminous circle proceeding on a steady path. Suddenly, a bright flash stabbed the darkness just below the aeroplane, and the explosion of a pistol shot shattered the silence, followed by another and another. The phosphorescent circle stopped suddenly, then began to sink rapidly. The person or persons who had fired the shots had apparently become alarmed at the bright glow floating about in the darkness above them and thought to destroy it by shooting. Now, when they saw the eerie light descending towards them, they appeared in a panic, for a veritable fusillade of shots was fired at it. There was little doubt that the first shots had damaged the aeroplane and caused it to fall. The later barrage shattered the

propeller, and several glowing bits flew in different directions, and the firing ceased. The boys stood still, uncertain what to do. In the meantime, they thought it best not to disclose their presence, so they made neither sound 'nor movement, but attuned their ears to catch any noise that might come from the other end ot the building. “Phew!” came a shaky voice. “That thing scared me. Wonder what it was.” “Never mind about that now,” snapped another. “We’ll have to get out of here quick, or we’ll have all the sticky-beaks in the countryside on us.” “What’ll we do with all this stuff?” asked the first voice. “If it’s found, we’ll be in the soup.” "We’ll have to chance that,” snapped the other. “We haven’t time to remove it. Throw a few bricks over it, but don’t throw too hard, or we’ll be blown sky-high.” Soberside pursed his lips, and uttered a low whistle. “Spies!” he whispered. “Members of the fifth column.” He spent a few moments in thought, then began feeling round in front of him, and found a pile of old bricks. “Get down behind these bricks,” he whispered to the other two. They obeyed. “Throw down those guns,” he ordered, “and put your hands up. We’ve got you covered.” If Soberside was hopeful, his optimism was crushed almost before he finished . his little speech. A hail of bullets was the only reply, .and the first shattered the lamp, leaving then, in darkness once more. “Quick, Joe!” Soberside shouted above the noise of the firing. “Throw your bomb at them. The fizzing might help to frighten them. “Help to frighten ’em!” Joe retorted in “It’ll blow ’em to— to—” “Qtiick!” Soberside urged. “Throw it, and don’t argue.” Joe took his bomb from his pocket, and threw the thing as hard as he could in the direction of the firing. BANG! There was a shattering explosion. Tiny and Soberside stood with open mouths, their surprise at Joe’s bomb exploding shutting out everything else from their minds for the moment. But they were soon warned of their danger. Bricks and masonry began to fall about them, and as one they turned for the safety of the window, scrambling through just as the roof crashed in. Already, people who had heard the firing were rushing towards the ruined building, scattering the goat.' in the blackberry patches, but before they arrived the boys were beginning to search the wreckage for the men. They found two figures sprawled on their faces in a doorway, partly hidden by wreckage. By the time the boys had pulled the men clear the crowd of people were beginning to arrive, and among them was a policeman, to whom Soberside and Tiny told their story. Joe was nowhere to be found just then. They found him a little later, sitting on the grass, mumbling to himself. In the light of Tiny’s lamp he looked a most mournful figure. “To think that I succeeded,” Joe moaned, “and I can’t rememler the amended formula.” Anyway, Joe was quite cheerful next day when the boys heard that as a result of their efforts a store of explosive, apparently intended for sabotage, was found beneath the ruins of the old factory.