The Mystery at Bob-White Cave

ground.
    “Don’t move!” Jim commanded.
    “That shot came from the woods,” Linnie said. “Oh, I wish we’d stayed at home. No good ever comes from spying on a ghost.”
    “Shhh!” Trixie cautioned. “Someone is coming over the rise toward the cabin!”
    “It’s nothing human!” Linnie said in a choked voice. “It’s floating in a white cloud, just like we saw that other time, when we were on our way home from town. Oh, I wish I hadn’t listened to you when you tried to tell me there aren’t any ghosts.”
    “There aren’t, Linnie!” Trixie said in a loud whisper. “Watch!”
    “I can see a shape walking. It’s all wrapped in white,” Linnie said. “If it isn’t a ghost....”
    “It’s a man!” Jim said. “A man with a huge growth of snow-white beard. And his hair looks like Einstein’s... or like Israel’s former prime minister’s. What’s his name?”
    “Ben-Gurion,” Mart answered. “Non fatuus persecutis ignem .”
    “We’re half-murdered and you quote Latin,” Honey said. “Mart, don’t you have any fear—”
    “Of spirits?” Linnie finished the sentence.
    “All I said was ‘It is no will-o’-the-wisp I have followed here,’ ” Mart said, “and it isn’t. That old guy is real. He has a pack on his back, too, just like the man Bill Hawkins said he saw. There’s your thief, Trixie, and the arsonist, too.”
    “All that is very interesting,” Brian said, “but what was his motive?”
    “Who knows? Maybe it was some old feud. I think Slim is mixed up in it with him. Where the heck did he go?”
    “Into thin air,” Linnie whimpered, “just like any ghost. It’s the same ghost Mama and I saw when we took the Englishman home after he nearly drowned.”
    “It wasn't a ghost,” Jim said, “and I think he was going someplace right now to hide the loot he had in that bag.”
    “That loot is probably my ghost fish,” Trixie said, “in the bait bucket. But where did he go?”
    “Into some cave, maybe,” Mart said. “Let’s keep our eyes open for him.”
    “Let’s keep our eyes wider open for the person who shot that rifle,” Trixie said.
    Just then it cracked again.
    “It’s someone hunting squirrels,” Linnie said.
    “At night?”
    “They do, sometimes.”
    Trixie was not convinced. “Then explain to me why a number-one coon dog like Jacob wouldn’t flush a squirrel.”
    “Didn’t you hear him panting to go after that noise? I still have him by the collar.”
    “Don’t let him loose, then, or we’re dead ducks,” Mart said.
    Just then Jacob pulled free and dashed off into the woods, wagging his tail expectantly.
    “Come back here, Jacob!” Linnie called. “Oh, dear, maybe I’ll never see him again. The ghost will get him!”
    “The ‘ghost’ isn’t home now, that’s for sure,” Mart said. “I feel like a cat at a mousehole. Say, Trixie, do you want to take a closer look now that the ‘ghost’ is away?”
    “I want to find my fish, but I think the ‘ghost’ is hiding it.”
    “Let’s take a look around, anyway,” said Mart eagerly.
    “Look out!” Linnie cried. “That big black dog—it’s the ghost’s dog. He’s set it to watch for us. You never can kill him, Mart, or frighten him. Don’t try. A person could throw an ax right through a ghost’s black dog, and it wouldn’t budge.”
    “That’s a black dog?” Mart asked. He threw a rock.
    It sailed through the air, hit the “black dog,” and ricocheted into a clump of bushes.
    “See? You couldn’t kill it!” Linnie wailed. “ Please , let’s go back home.”
    “Stop teasing her!” Trixie commanded Mart. Then she put her arms around Linnie. “It’s nothing but an old black stump. Turn your head around. You can see it plain as day in the moonlight. Here’s Jacob, too. You didn’t need to worry about him. That man has gone off into the woods; he doesn’t know we’re here. Let’s just take a quick look into his house and see what he’s up to, and then we’ll take the mule trail home.”
    Linnie stepped forward bravely after Jim and Brian. “All right, if you say it’s safe,” she told Trixie.
    Slowly, single file, the Bob-Whites stole up to the side of the house and stood in the shadow.
    Trixie raised herself on tiptoe and peeked through the window, flashing her light. It traveled over the stone fireplace. Strings of pumpkin and wild onion hung from the mantel, drying. Fagots were piled on the hearth below. On the far side of the room, a