Ghost Stories by Franklin W. Dixon Read Free Book Online Page B

ashtray.
    Suddenly they heard a strange noise.
    Quack, quack, quack!
A child’s wind-up toy duck waddled out from under a curtain, walked across the floor, and then fell on its side as it bumped against Joe’s shoe.
    The boy bent down to pick it up. But he couldn’t wind it again because the key was missing. Slowly he set it on the floor again, his hand shaking.
    â€œFrank, there were people here,” he whispered. “Living human beings who breathed and laughed and argued were here all around us. Where are they now?”
    Frank shrugged helplessly. “Maybe we’ll find the answer if we go on searching for it,” he declared.
    So the boys continued to explore. At the back door, leading into the hotel kitchen, were muddy footprints just like the ones the boys had made when they walked into the lobby.
    â€œBigfoot was here,” Joe said, trying to shake the eerie mood that threatened to stifle them.
    â€œHe’s supposed to have
big
feet.” Frank grinned. “These are regular size, almost like ours.”
    The boys went through the rest of the hotel and found more evidence of recent life, but no human being was anywhere to be seen.
    Finally they stepped out into the dark again.
    Frank beamed his flashlight around. “There are kerosene lamps in front of some of the houses,” he noted. “Let’s light them. At least we’ll be able to see.”
    â€œGood idea,” Joe said, and the boys proceeded with their task. It proved easy enough since most of the lamps were still full of fuel.
    The rain had stopped and a rather sickly looking moon appeared behind a cloud. Yet the erratic desert weather continued to treat the visitors to an occasional lightning flash and a great rumble of thunder, as if to say, “We’re not through with you yet, so don’t relax!”
    The boys approached the church, which was just two doors down from the hotel. It was a simple, rectangular building on top of which the town’s carpenters had built a narrow steeple. When the two entered the church, the bell began ringing, sending its ghostly sound vibrating through the night. Terrified, the boys jumped back, and looked at the steeple.
    â€œI don’t believe it!” Joe cried out.
    â€œSomeone must be pulling the cord!” Frank said. “There’s hardly any wind now and it can’t move by itself!”
    Frank and Joe ran into the church and climbed to the little belfrey. The bell stopped ringing just before they reached it.
    Joe pulled the cord. The bell barely moved.
    When the boys descended the stairs again, another noise made them jump. A door slammed in the rear.
    â€œIt could have b-been the wind,” Joe stammered.
    â€œAs I said before, there hardly
is
any,” Frank pointed out. They continued on to the back door and saw something that chilled them all over again. An arrow was embedded in the wood!
    Both boys recalled the legend that Flaming Rock had been wiped out in an Indian attack and stood frozen to the spot.
    â€œDo—do you suppose it’s a warning?” Joe muttered.
    â€œBut for what?” Frank asked. His practical mind began to rebel against what was happening to them. “I think we may be the victims of a hoax!” he declared. “It’s all too pat, too easy. It could be some big, practical joke—maybe a con game pulled by real estate developers. Or perhaps someone’s organizing publicity for a TV show. I just don’t believe all this is really occurring the way it seems to be.”
    â€œI hope you’re right,” Joe said. “And yet…” He did not finish the sentence.
    Slowly, the young detectives walked out of the church and down the street. “What shall we check out next?” Joe inquired.
    â€œWe’ll get done a lot faster if we split up,” Frank suggested. “The place is so small that we can holler if we get attacked by anyone.”
    â€œAh,