The Elevator Ghost Read Online Free PDF Page B

clover.
    â€œWhat if that boy can’t be frightened anymore?” she said. “Will you give up all of this shadow-play nonsense?”
    The mountain king smiled to himself. He knew that he could come up with shapes that would have Jack Scrumble quaking in his boots for years to come.
    â€œCertainly, dear,” he said. “If you can get him to walk a mile along the Cornshuck Trail at sundown. You know that stretch from the sheep pen to his cabin. Get him to walk that without his teeth chattering or without breaking into a run as if a banshee is after him. Then I’ll give up shadow-making.”
    â€œAgreed,” said his wife.
    The next day, while the mountain king was spending his time contorting tree branches to look like giant snakes and arranging rocks into hunchbacked horrors, his wife made a visit to the Scrumble farmhouse. She disguised herself as a traveling saleslady selling soaps and cosmetics.
    â€œDon’t have much need for none of them trappings,” Granddad Scrumble told her when she came to the door. “We make our own soap and we still have half a bottle of Grandma’s rose attar perfume. Ain’t been opened since she passed over. But come on inside. We don’t get many visitors up on Cornshuck these days. Jack here’ll put the kettle on and make us all a cup of tea.”
    The mountain king’s wife liked to spend time with company herself, so she enjoyed her cup of tea. Granddad told her about the special recipe he had for making soap with beeswax and juniper berries.
    â€œAnd what do you like to do, Jack?” she asked.
    Jack ducked his head and scuffed his shoe on the pine floor.
    â€œWhittlin ’ ,” he admitted.
    â€œHe’s mighty good at it, too. Can make a willow whistle that’d charm a mockingbird down from its nest.” Granddad paused and lit his pipe.
    â€œJack,” he said, “time to go and check on the sheep. The days are gettin’ shorter, remember. You don’t like to be out when it’s gettin’ dark.”
    Jack’s complexion went as white as the doily that sat under the teapot on the table.
    â€œYes, Granddad.” He hurried and got his jacket.
    â€œI’ll be on my way, too,” the mountain king’s wife said. She walked Jack out to where the path to the sheep pen forked away from the main road.
    â€œOh, my. I almost forgot.” She stopped and unlatched her sample case. “I always leave a little gift whenever I visit prospective customers. So this is for you.” She took out something shiny that looked like a pen, and as she gave it to Jack, she whispered something in his ear.
    Jack smiled. “Gee, thanks,” he said and tucked the pen in his pocket.
    By the time Jack got to the sheep corral, the mountain king’s wife had joined her husband. He was waiting just back of a pile of boulders that bordered the path. The sun was low in the sky, and the mountain king had arranged the rocks in such a way that they looked like a shadow cast by a huge wolf.
    In a few minutes, Jack would be heading the mile back home along this path. The mountain king chuckled at how menacing the shadow looked.
    Jack shooed a stray sheep back into the corral. He fed the two orphan lambs and then counted the rest of the flock to make sure none were missing.
    Latching the gate, he tested it with a shake to make certain it was secure. He had heard wolves yipping and yodeling earlier in the day. He wanted to be extra sure there was no way they might get into the pen.
    As he turned and started back along the path, he noticed the sun was only a skim of molten gold along the mountain peak. The trail ahead was strewn with shadows.
    Jack gulped. An owl hooted. A few feet down the path a huge dark shape loomed across the trail.
    It looked like a giant wolf.
    In the distance an animal howled.
    Aaarrooooo…
    Jack closed his eyes. How was he ever going to make it home?
    OOoooh-Aarooooo… The