“The crowd is just as big for Ms. Prattle as it was for the other storyteller,” said Kate Frances. “And nobody even knows her around here.” She shook her head before hurrying away to help.
“It’s because of the ghost stories. The ghost dog,” said Henry.
It was true. As the visitors streamed past them to claim seats in the clearing, they heard snatches of conversation. Almost everyone was talking about the ghost dog.
Then Kate Frances walked onto the stage to introduce Elizabeth Prattle. The audience fell silent, then cheered as the author walked onstage. She stepped up to the podium, took a sip of water, and smiled. “Welcome to all you believers in good writing—and in ghosts!” she said.
With lots of exaggeration and hand gestures, Ms. Prattle began to read.
No one in the audience seemed to mind the exaggeration. They applauded loudly when Ms. Prattle finished reading, and asked her lots of questions. She talked about how her research had led her to believe that many of the ghost stories she’d heard could be true.
Then it was time for a half-hour break.
Henry slipped his flashlight out of his pocket. “Come on,” he said to Violet. “Let’s go.” He and Violet hurried up the trail toward the parking lot.
People wandered toward the concession stand. Kate Frances and Ms. Prattle walked up the stone steps that divided the two rows of benches where the audience sat to listen. Ms. Prattle stopped and spoke to several people and smiled. But she didn’t sign any books. “Not until after it’s over,” she said. “And don’t forget, more books will be for sale!”
The Aldens passed Kate Frances. They knew she was offering to walk with Ms. Prattle. “No, no,” said Ms. Prattle. “I need a little time to myself. I’ll just walk along the trail and think. Don’t worry. I’ll be back in time to read again!”
She took a flashlight out of her shoulder bag and moved away up the trail.
Jessie and Benny stayed where they were, watching and waiting.
Nothing happened. A few people drifted back to their seats. Benny whispered, “Where’s the ghost dog?”
“I don’t know, Benny,” said Jessie.
Just then, someone screamed.
“It’s the ghost!” a woman shouted.
“The ghost dog!” another voice added.
Even though they’d been expecting it, Benny and Jessie both jumped.
Then they saw it: a white figure moving in and out among the trees.
“Come on!” Jessie said.
She and Benny ran toward the dog, skirting the crowd of people who were trying to back away from it. They dashed to the edge of the woods as the dog disappeared into it.
Jessie pulled the silent whistle from her pocket and raised it to her lips. She blew a blast on it. And then another. And then again.
Benny held his breath.
And then the ghost dog reappeared!
It ran toward them. Then it stopped and turned its head as if listening to something only it could hear. It turned.
Jessie blew harder and harder on the whistle. The dog ran forward, then back, then forward.
Benny ran toward the dog. “Here, dog,” he called. “Nice ghost dog!” He pulled a dog biscuit from his pocket and held it out.
The dog stopped at the edge of the shadows. It looked utterly confused. As Benny ran up to it, he saw that it wasn’t a ghost dog after all—just a white dog covered with something to make it glow, and wearing booties on its feet.
Pulling a collar with a leash attached to it from his other pocket, Benny slipped the collar over the dog’s head. “Good dog,” he said. “Good girl.”
The dog whined a little and looked anxiously over her shoulder. Then she took the biscuit from Benny’s hand and allowed herself to be led out into the light.
“It’s a dog!” someone said.
“It’s not a ghost at all,” said someone else.
Jessie bent to pat the dog.
Just then, Ms. Prattle appeared at the top of the stone steps. The dog saw her and strained on the leash, barking and wagging her tail.
Ms. Prattle walked toward the stage as if she didn’t see the dog.
And she really didn’t see Henry and Violet following her.
She walked up onto the stage and turned to face the audience. She opened her book, although almost no one was sitting down. Faces turned toward her.
“In this chapter—” Ms. Prattle began.
But she didn’t get to continue. Benny let the dog drag him up to the stage. Wagging her tail even harder, the dog jumped up and barked happily at Ms. Prattle.
Ms. Prattle looked down.
Jessie stepped forward. “She’s your dog, isn’t she?” Jessie asked in a loud clear voice.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Ms. Prattle said.
Henry said, “We followed you to your car just now, Ms. Prattle. We saw you take your dog out. We saw the whole thing.”
Slowly Ms. Prattle closed her book. She nodded. Then she knelt down and held out her arms. “Come here, girl. Come here, Dusty. Good girl,” she said. And the dog ran into her arms.
Kate Frances said, “Show’s over! Everybody go home.” |