Read Online Ghost Stories by Franklin W. Dixon - Free Book Online

simply.
    â€œMaybe one of us should stay and wait for the other to bring the sheriff in the morning?”
    â€œI don’t think so,” Joe said. “By morning the town may be gone, and whoever stays right along with it!”
    Frank nodded glumly. Then he brightened. “I tell you what. Why don’t we return to the car and spend the night? If the town’s still here in daylight, we’lltake pictures. At least we’ll have some proof that Flaming Rock really existed.”
    â€œGreat! I’ll go along with that,” Joe said. “And now, let’s hurry away from here. This place gives me the creeps!”
    The boys went back to their car and managed to catnap fitfully through the night. When the sun rose in the morning, they quite expected the village to have disappeared. But to their surprise, it was still there!
    Frank took his 35mm camera from the glove compartment and shot almost a whole roll of film of the mysterious place. With the help of a telephoto lens, he got close-up pictures of the hotel, the store, the schoolhouse, and the jail.
    â€œThis should do it,” he said with satisfaction when he had snapped the last frame. “Now people will
have
to believe us.”
    Joe was less confident. “The story has been told before, and the people who told it have vanished,” he said gloomily.
    â€œYour Indian friend asked you to report what you saw,” Frank reminded him. “And I have a feeling he was a good sort. He’ll watch over us.”
    â€œI hope so,” Joe said and started the car.
    They carefully drove back down the same rutted road they had taken the day before. When they got to the top of a rise, Frank turned to take one last look at Flaming Rock.
    â€œJoe!” he cried hoarsely. “It’s gone!”
    â€œWhat?” Joe jumped on the brakes and, when thecar had stopped, turned around. The town was no longer there.
    â€œSpooky!” Chet Morton declared when he heard the story a few days later. “Did you show the pictures to the closest police chief out there?”
    â€œThere were no pictures,” Frank said.
    â€œWhat do you mean? You took them, didn’t you?”
    â€œYes. But not a single one turned out. All were fogged.”
    Biff Hooper, who sat next to Chet on the sofa, nodded. “Of course they didn’t turn out, because the whole thing never really happened,” he declared. “It was something like autosuggestion on the Hardys’ part. They were set off by the magazine article they read and imagined the whole thing.”
    â€œWhat about this?” Joe pulled out the headband and handed it to his friend.
    â€œIt looks new,” Biff stated. “No more than a few years old.”
    â€œThat’s true,” Joe admitted. “But there are some Apache markings on the inside. I had an Indian friend translate them for me. It’s the name of a chief who was killed by miners on March sixth in Flaming Rock.”
    â€œBut this is ink,” Chet said, after he had studied the headband closely. “As far as I know, the Indians didn’t write with ink.”
    â€œRight,” Biff added. “You were duped, you see?”
    â€œNo, we weren’t,” Joe replied. “The Indians did use white man’s ink after trade had been established.And here’s the kicker. The chemist said that this ink, though it looks new, tested out to be of a kind that hasn’t been manufactured since 1880!”
    This convinced Chet. His face became worried. “What did you say happened to those guys who went to Flaming Rock before you?”
    â€œWe don’t know. They disappeared,” Joe replied.
    Chet sighed. Then he stood up and went to the telephone. “What are you doing?” Frank inquired.
    â€œI’m going to call all our friends. From now on, you two won’t go anywhere without a bodyguard!”

 
THE PHANTOM SHIP
 
    Frank and Joe were