The Mystery at Bob-White Cave

what kind of a smell, pray, does a ghost give off?” Mart asked.
    “Chilly and damp, like an old cellar—like that old house in the woods, where Jim’s uncle lived. Don’t you notice it, Uncle Andrew?”
    “Are you sure it isn’t my tobacco?” Uncle Andrew asked. He pointed with his pipe stem across the creek they were approaching. “It wouldn’t be too hard to imagine ghosts around that old cabin, would it?” Honey shivered and pushed closer to Trixie, who had stood up in the wagon to see better. “Gosh, what is it?” she asked. Around the dilapidated old log cabin, a white mist swirled in spirals to form slowly moving draped figures. The mist then vanished into the clearer sky above the trees.
    Linnie stopped the mules. “It’s the cabin where the stranger’s body is buried out in the cow lot. Mama said I’d point it out to you. Remember? That wasn’t any screech owl you heard a while ago, either. It was the murdered man, still groaning as he did when they were killing him.”
    “Was he the one who went up into thin air just now?” Jim asked, teasing.
    “Don’t make fun of haunts,” Linnie said solemnly. “You don’t honestly think there’s such a thing as a ghost, do you?” Mart asked.
    “Yes, sir, I do!” Linnie clucked, and the mules, who had been standing patiently, heads down and ears back, started up again. “And you will, too, Mart Belden, before you leave these parts. That cabin’s haunted. Hold tight; we’re going through the creek again!”
    Jim and Brian, fascinated by the rock formations on either side, hadn’t paid much attention to the talk about ghosts. Trixie had. So had Mart. Honey heaved a deep sigh of relief when they found the level road again and started uphill.
    “I’d give a lot to see more of that ghost,” Mart whispered to Trixie. “Shucks, it’s nothing but old mist coming up off the swampy ground. Back home we see it a lot of times, don’t we?”
    “We call it will-o’-the-wisp,” Trixie agreed, keeping her voice low. She didn’t want to offend Linnie.
    “Even the name always makes me feel creepy,” Honey said. “If you and Mart plan to visit that cabin, just count me out.”
    The mule wagon rattled on. From time to time, small trails led off into the woods where ground had been cleared for family homes. Blue smoke rose lazily from rough stone chimneys. Hens cackled, announcing their morning offering of eggs. A cowbell clanked tonelessly now and then as a bony animal reached for tasty grasses.
    That’s Bill Hawkins’s place,” Uncle Andrew said.
    We’ll stop there a minute, please, Linnie.”
    A neat cabin faced the road. Back of it, several acres of cleared ground spread, green with corn and other vegetables.
    Linnie called, “Whoa!” and a group of laughing children ran out, seven of them, all ages.
    “Hello, Linnie!” they chorused. Linnie answered, calling them each by name. Bill Hawkins hurried from the nearby field, and his wife came out of the house, smoothing her apron.
    “It’s near time we were eating; won’t you stop and join us?” she asked hospitably.
    “Pa killed some squirrels, and Ma made a potpie,” the oldest boy said. “We’d like it if you’d stop.” He shook hands with the strangers from New York. Then each of his brothers and sisters did the same, repeating their names as Linnie introduced them. “We haven’t seen another girl since school was out,” one of the gingham-clad little girls said. “Ma made dewberry shortcake, too,” she coaxed.
    “We’re in a kind of hurry,” Uncle Andrew explained. “These young people want to do some cave hunting, and we’re on our way to town for some equipment. Another time, Minnie, we’ll stop. Thank you for asking us. Mrs. Moore’s the only one I know who can equal you for cooking. Come over soon, all of you, and sample some of it.
    “Oh, by the way, Bill, I’ve sent for Slim Sanderson to come over to the lodge this afternoon to talk about acting as a guide. I’ll feel a lot better about the safety of these young people if someone who knows caves goes along. Don’t you think that’s a good idea?”
    “Slim Sanderson?” Bill Hawkins’s face sobered. He stroked his chin. “Maybe so. I guess so.”
    Regretfully the children climbed down from the wheel hubs, where they’d been standing, and Linnie started the mules.
    “Give Slim a good talk about his responsibilities, Andy,” Bill Hawkins called after them.
    As the wagon neared town, the woods