THE HAUNTED WHEEL I guess maybe it’s a half a mile across that old amusement park. All the land there is low; we could see right over the top of Little Valley as you might say, and the big tree away off there on the ridge stood out good and plain. Maybe that was partly because the sun was getting over that way. Anyway, I know that about a couple of hours later the tree looked as if it were all kind of spangled with gold like a Christmas tree. It seemed sort of as if the sun was going ahead to get the tree all decorated for us. Westy said, “The sun’s beginning to get over to the west. See?” I said, “It’s going to beat us to the tree, too.” So you can see from what I told you that it was easy to follow a straight course right through that old park. Sometimes we had to clamber All of a sudden Westy stopped short and said, “Look ahead; do you know what?” “What?” I asked him. “See that old ferris-wheel?” he said. “We’re going to run plunk right into it.” I took a good squint and sure enough it was right in a bee-line with our beacon. It wasn’t across our path but it was lengthways with our path. It was so narrow that we might have gone past on either side of it, but just the same it was right plunk in our path. It was quite a long ways ahead. Once, when Westy and I were going through That time we went through there—oh, I guess it was a couple of years ago. Anyway, it was in the night and everything was as dark as licorice bars. Maybe you never ate those, but they’re mighty good, they’re black. All of a sudden we heard a kind of a creaking noise and we couldn’t make out where it was. Sometimes it sounded just as if it might be a person. We followed that noise the best we could and pretty soon we came to the old wheel. It isn’t so big, that wheel. And it isn’t so little either. Then we could hear the sound good and plain and it was up in the wheel. It sounded pretty spooky. Sometimes it was a noise like some one crying. And then it would kind of die away. When we got home we told about it and Mr. Ellsworth (he’s our scoutmaster) said it was probably just the wind blowing in that creaky old thing. But after that, all the kids in Bridgeboro But one thing, it kept the kids away from the old park. Because, anyway, they weren’t supposed to go there. Gee whiz, I can’t say whether I’m afraid of a ghost or not because I never saw one, but I know that white is their patrol color. Anyway, if I were a ghost I wouldn’t hang out in a ferris-wheel, I know that. I guess they’re half crazy, anyway, because there used to be one in the old tumbled-down schoolhouse in North Bridgeboro. Jiminy, I should think he could have found a better place than that to stay in. But my father says it’s pretty hard to find places to live in these days. We should worry, the woods for us. |