IN SPOOKVILLE
When they had gotten well away from the factory, Billy recovered his
wits sufficiently to thank Mr. Gas warmly for his assistance.
"You are welcome, Billy Bounce--it was lots of fun for me and I needed
an outing anyway."
"But how did you know about my need?" said Billy. "I tried to send
Umberufen and Gehsundheit, but could get neither of them to go."
"The wireless telephoneless telephone brought me your wish. I came very
near answering, but you didn't hold the wireless wire, and I thought
it would be more exciting to save you at the last minute, the way they
always do in books."
"I'm afraid--" began Billy.
"Don't do it," interrupted Mr. Gas.
"What?"
"Be afraid."
"But I meant to say I was afraid--" he began again.
"You did say it--you didn't just mean to say it," said Mr. Gas severely.
"Well, what I meant was that I didn't think Gehsundheit and Umberufen
have been of much use to me."
"That's better--never use the word afraid, because there's nothing in
the world to be afraid of if you do your best."
"I'll remember that, sir," answered Billy.
"About Gehsundheit and Umberufen--they are not very useful, it's true,
but the two old fellows have been out of work for so long that I hire
them out of charity."
"I suppose they mean well."
"Oh! yes; but be careful of well meaners unless they are good
doers--that's what counts."
"Yes, sir," said Billy.
"And now good-by--keep your teeth clean and don't eat any dirt."
"Of course not, I never do eat dirt."
"I know you don't, but it is my rule to give advice that can be easily
followed--that's the way I keep my friends. Good-by."
"Good-by, and thank you," called Billy, and in less than half a jiffy
Mr. Gas and his toy balloons were only a speck on the horizon.
When Billy again reached the earth it was night. He had just taken
Barker out of his pocket and was going to dig a hole for the Singing
Tree, when he saw that he was in a great shadowy city.
"That's strange," he said, looking about him. "I was sure that I was in
the middle of a green meadow when I first came down and here I am in a
city."
And yet when he looked again he found that he could see clear through
the houses. This made him just a wee bit nervous.
"Ah! here comes some one with a lantern; I'll ask him about it." And
sure enough there came bobbing and dancing up the street a ball of
light. "He's an awfully unsteady walker, whoever he is," said Billy.
For one minute the light would be way up in the air and the next minute
almost touching the ground--then it would be on one side of the walk
and again on the other. On it came until it was within a few inches of
his nose and then he saw that _no one_ was carrying it.
Gracious! what a start it gave him--for a moment only and then he was
off after it in hot pursuit. But the faster Billy walked the faster the
light went--when he ran it ran--and suddenly "puff!" it disappeared.
"Huh! I don't like that a little bit," and he stopped and looked around
him.
The moon cast a pale and sickly light, and the gaunt trees waved and
creaked sadly in the moaning breeze, throwing long, claw-like shadows
on the ground. Then a sad-voiced bird piped out from the forest,
"Whip-poor-will--whip-poor-will--whip-poor-will-o'-the-wisp."
"That's what it was, of course," said Billy, sturdily sticking his
fists into his pockets--"a will-o'-the-wisp." And back he trudged
whistling as hard as he could whistle. Because whistling _does_ keep a
fellow's courage up on a lonely walk, doesn't it?
It certainly cheered Billy a great deal, so that when he got back to
the place he had lately left he was laughing at his fears.
And then the moon went under a cloud.
"Goodness! it's dark," he said half aloud.
"Isn't it though?" whispered a voice right behind him.
If Billy had been a wax figure on a pivot he could not have turned
around quicker than he did--and then when he _had_ turned he was sorry
that he had, for looking into his face was a great, white flabby head
on a long, wavery body. It did not seem to have any eyes, and yet Billy
felt them looking into his. It did not seem to have any mouth, and yet
Billy had heard it speak.
"Wha-wha-what d-did you say?" he asked in a quavering voice; and he
distinctly felt each separate hair on his head grow stiff as a poker
and his cap rise a couple of inches from his crown.
"I said it was dark. What's the matter, do you stammer?"
"N-not usually," said Billy, trying to set his teeth and stop the tune
they were chattering.
"Then I wish you'd stop--it's very annoying," said the figure,
chuckling to himself.
By a great effort Billy got his lower jaw under control and said:
"Who are you? Your manner is familiar, but I don't recognize your face."
"Oh! I'm a Ghost."
"A Ghost!" exclaimed Billy, stepping back.
"Yes--I've met you lots of times," said the Ghost.
"Who were you when--when you were alive? Perhaps if you'd mention the
name," and Billy tried to recollect some of his former friends.
"I _am_ alive, though goodness knows if times keep up the way they're
going now I can't tell how soon I'll starve to death."
"Starve to death?"
"Yes; times have changed in the last four hundred years. Why, I
remember years ago we ghosts were busy on haunting jobs night after
night, but now we have to scratch pretty hard for a living."
"But where have you met me?" asked Billy.
"On your way to bed when the nurse had been telling you silly
tales--come, we're old friends, let's shake hands."
"Can--can you shake hands?" said Billy, putting his own behind him.
"Certainly. Of course I can't shake your hand, but I can shake my own,"
and with that the Ghost held two long white arms in front of him,
joined the ends (one really couldn't call them hands) and waved them up
and down.
Much relieved, Billy clasped his own two hands and feebly shook
them--and my, how cold and clammy they felt!
"Well, good-by, I must be going," said Billy nervously.
"Don't go yet--let's talk over old times. And by the way, you don't
happen to know a quiet family, keeping two servants, no children
preferred, who wants to hire a respectable ghost. Thoroughly tame--will
eat out of the hand--terms reasonable and references exchanged.
Guaranteed to give satisfaction or money returned. If desired can take
the shape of an old ancestor. Guarding buried treasure extra." And the
Ghost rattled this off as if he had learned it by heart.
[Illustration: "_Come up to the house and spend an unpleasant
evening._"--Page 217.]
"No," said Billy, "I really do not--in fact, I'm sure I don't."
"Now that's too bad--but perhaps you would hire me--I'll make it cheap
for old acquaintance' sake," said the Ghost wistfully.
"No," said Billy quickly, "I don't think I care to be haunted."
"If the price is all that stands in the way I'll work for my keep just
to keep in practice."
"No," said Billy, "I'm--," he was going to say "afraid," but remembered
Mr. Gas's advice and said, "I'm sure I don't need you."
"Well, I suppose if you won't, you won't--but anyway come up to the
house and spend an unpleasant evening. I'd like you to meet the wife
and children--my wife is a little high-spirited--the ghost of a
lighthouse-keeper's daughter, but she will thaw out after a while, and
I'm sure she can fix up a nice little supper for us."
"I really have not time," said Billy, backing off.
"Not if I tell you that we have some cold fear pie and a roast of
imagination, a neat little salad of blood-curdling screams topped off
with groan pudding--come, that ought to tempt you--and I'll get the
children to do the shadow dance for you after supper."
"You are very kind, I'm sure," said Billy, "but I have a message I must
deliver to Bogie Man."
"You don't mean to tell me that you're Billy Bounce?" exclaimed the
Ghost.
"Yes!" said Billy.
"What have I done? Oh! me! that's what comes of getting old and
near-sighted--I took you for little Tommy Jones."
"No, I'm Billy Bounce."
"Then you shan't come to my house, but you _will_ come to the haunted
house." Then he called aloud in a weird voice: "Spooks, Spirits,
Ghosts, Wraiths, Banshees, and all, come quick--here is Billy Bounce in
Spookville."
With a rattle of chains, screams, groans, and a thousand odd and
terrible sounds, the inhabitants of the village swooped down on them.
For a few moments Billy was absolutely frozen stiff with fear, and when
he looked around him at the horrible shapes and faces that surrounded
him he was worse frightened than ever. Some of them breathed fire and
steam while their eyes glowed like red-hot coals. Others had old,
crafty and wicked faces with huge snaggle teeth. Some looked like
fierce and bloodthirsty pirates--all sorts and conditions of ghosts
were there, and all seemingly intent on tearing Billy limb from limb.
"See him tremble!" called one old Pirate. "Ah! this reminds me of old
times on the Spanish Main--make him walk the plank!"
"Scream into his ear until he is deaf!" cried a Banshee.
"Put a ball and chain on him and throw him in a cell!" suggested the
ghost of a convict.
"He's the boy who discovered Shamville--he will tell on all of us if we
let him live!" said a crafty-looking old merchant.
"Make him eat his own head!" cried a headless horseman.
"Get away!" cried Billy; "you are a host of delusions! I don't
believe in ghosts anyway, and I'm not afraid of you," for he had
just remembered what Mr. Gas said about being afraid. He took a step
forward, and in doing so walked through five or six ghosts who were
crowding him closely.
"Swish!" and every mother's ghost of them had disappeared and he was
standing in the meadow alone. The moon came from behind its cloud
and distinctly winked at Billy. And what a relief it was to be sure!
"There," he said to himself; "Mr. Gas was right--so long as a fellow
is afraid in the dark he will see all kinds of things, ghosts and
everything else; but if he just grits his teeth and makes up his mind
_not_ to be afraid, there is no more in the dark to hurt you than in
the sunlight."
And with that he planted the Singing Tree, curled up beneath it, and in
a minute was sound asleep.