CHAPTER NINE

Ghost!

Zayn, who had panicked at the sound of the ghost, grabbed Ibrahim’s sleeve, dropped it again and barrelled into the forest. Only after several minutes of running did he slow down enough for Ibrahim to draw near. Before Ibrahim could get mad at Zayn for running, the boys heard a loud, hollow laugh coming through the trees.

Grabbing Zayn’s arm, Ibrahim pulled him to the ground.

“Follow me,” Ibrahim whispered, slowly crawling towards the noise.

As they got closer they noticed the dying embers of a small campfire from behind a camouflaged camping tent. The shadow of two men could clearly be seen. One was an averaged sized man with a round belly, who looked oddly familiar. The other was much taller and bald, with broad shoulders.

“I think we really scared them, Stan,” said the shorter man, whose voice the boys immediately recognized as Billy Jones’.

“Did you see those brats run?” laughed Stan. “Once news gets out that the ghost of the Haunted Lake has returned, this place will be deserted.”

“Finally we’ll be able to dig this place up without worrying about nosy campers hanging around,” said Billy Jones, with a chuckle.

“What happened to those kid detectives you were worried about?” asked Stan.

“I’ve been keeping a close eye on them,” said Billy. “I’m pretty sure they’re convinced Parker’s behind the whole thing!”

Ibrahim crawled closer, trying to sneak a peek at the taller man, but Zayn grabbed his foot, motioning his cousin not to go any further.

“I just want to get a quick look at Stan,” Ibrahim whispered. “Then we’ll go back to camp and get help.”

“It’s too dangerous!” said Zayn, a little too loudly.

“Hey, who’s there?” yelled Billy. “Circle around, Stan; I think someone’s in the bushes!”

Ibrahim and Zayn’s eyes grew wide; they knew there was nowhere to run. Lifting the back of the tent, Ibrahim shoved Zayn in, then squeezed in behind him. The small tent had an old rumpled sleeping bag on the ground and a small wooden crate, splattered with mud.

“We’re trapped,” Zayn mouthed.

“I know,” whispered Ibrahim, silently praying for a miracle.

The boys watched in horror as Stan’s shadow drew closer to the back of the tent where they had just entered from. Suddenly, they heard a loud shout from the forest behind them.

“Aaaahhhh! Run for your lives!” It was George!

“Let’s scare him off!” said Billy.

The two men took off into the forest after George.

“Is that boy still screaming from back in the clearing?” asked Zayn in amazement, rummaging through the muddy box.

“It sounds like it,” smiled Ibrahim. “I don’t think he’s in any danger though. According to my compass, George is heading straight towards the camp. I don’t think our ‘ghost’ wants to turn up there with Billy. Now is our chance to get away.”

“Look at this,” said Zayn, holding up an ancient looking, ivory-coloured arrowhead. “It looks just like the one Mr. Jones wears around his neck! And there are some more things in here – beaded jewellery and stuff.”

Let’s take the arrowhead with us,” said Ibrahim. “I read that some native tribes made them from antlers. We can examine it on our way back.”