Max Smart and the Ghastly Ghost Affair

would probably break my heart.” He sat down on a stump. “Let’s talk about something besides food,” he said.

“I know some tall tales,” the old prospector said, squatting. “Tall tales always help to pass the time.”

“Better than that, how about some ghost stories,” Max suggested.

The old prospector shuddered. “Too scary,” he said. “Anyway, all my ghost stories have sad endings. All ’cept one-the story about the Indian that died and become a ghost and went to the happy haunting ground. Me, personally, though, I didn’t hit it that lucky. If I had it to do all over again, I’d be almost anything but a ghost. Too many drawbacks.”

“For instance?”

“Well, when Madame DuBarry and me are disappeared we’re always running into and straight through each other. Ever have a mule walk through your chest? It gives you a funny feeling.”

“I can imagine,” Max replied.

“And you get so you don’t pay any attention to whether you’re disappeared or appeared,” the old prospector said. “I got a habit of tightening my bandana up tight around my neck-sort of like a rube necktie. Well, it’s all right when I do it and I’m disappeared. It just tightens up into a hard knot. But when I do it when I’m appeared-thinking I’m disappeared-I sometimes like to strangle myself.”

“Yes, well-”

“But the biggest drawback of all-not just for me, but for Madame DuBarry, too-is, we still haven’t quite got the hang of disappearing and appearing. Myself, I’ve got a little quirk where when I raise my right arm I sometimes just disappear right out from under myself. And Madame DuBarry has to watch out how he switches his tail.”

“That doesn’t seem to be-”

“What’s bad about it is,” the old prospector went on, “we sometimes disappear for weeks or months and can’t reappear again for the life of us. Madame DuBarry was gone the whole month of April back in ’52. And me, I missed the winter of ’61 altogether. I reached up with my right hand to pick a leaf off a tree in late September and I didn’t get back until long past March.”

“Well, I suppose that-”

“Missed Christmas completely. New Year’s Day, too. I guess I shouldn’t complain, though. I missed my birthday-which is in February-too. So, that makes me a year younger than I really am. Not that it does me any good. Being dead, I can’t look forward to living a year longer. Outside every silver lining, there’s a dark cloud.” He looked up into the sky. “Speaking of that,” he said. “It’s coming on dark. Maybe we better get started back toward town.”

“Good idea,” Max said, rising. “By the time we get there, the assassins will probably all be in bed asleep. That will give us a chance to search for the Coolidge-head penny. Ready, 99?” he asked.

“Yes, Max.” She peered into the dimness. “I’m just glad we have a guide to lead us back,” she said. “I don’t think I could find my way to town again even if it is all downhill.”

“I doubt that I could, either,” Max said. He addressed the old prospector. “Which way is it?” he asked.

“Follow me,” the old man replied. And he raised his right arm and waved-and immediately disappeared.

“I guess that proves it-he does have trouble with his disappearing and appearing,” Max said. “Did you see that, 99? He raised his right arm-and POOF!” He looked at his watch. “Let’s see how long it takes him to reappear.”

“I just hope we don’t have to wait until next March,” 99 said worriedly.

“So do I. I’d hate to miss Christmas.” He raised his arm and shook his wrist. “I think my watch has stopped,” he said. “The hands keep going around-” He put it to his ear. “-and it’s still ticking-” He shrugged, puzzled. “-but the old prospector hasn’t reappeared.”

“Max. . maybe we better try to find our way back ourselves.”

“And get lost, 99? What would that accomplish?”

“We’d be doing something. What are we accomplishing now, just standing here?”

“99, we’re not just standing here. We’re standing here and waiting. There’s a difference. The old prospector will be back in a minute or so.”

“The last time-”

“I know about the last time. The last time he missed the whole winter of ’61. But this is not the last time. This is this time.” Max looked around nervously. “You’re right-we better start worrying,” he said. He peered into the darkness. “Prospector?” he called. “Are you out there?” There was no response. Max looked at the mule. “Maybe we ought to send Madame DuBarry after him,” he said.

“Fine. But how?”

Max faced the mule. “Parlez-vous Francais?”

“Max, just because his name is Madame DuBarry, that doesn’t mean he speaks French.”

“It’s just as well,” Max said. “We wouldn’t be able to converse, anyway. I speak French fluently, but, unfortunately, I don’t understand a word of it.” He addressed the mule again. “I’ll try to make this as simple as possible,” he said. “Remember the old prospector who was around here a little earlier? Sic ’em!”

The mule stared back at Max.

“Mules are the dumbest of all beasts,” Max said to 99. “This one is stupid in two languages, English and French.”

“Hee-Haw!” the mule protested.

“He’s even poor in mule,” Max said. “I didn’t understand a word of that!”

Looking annoyed, the mule switched its tail aggitatedly-and disappeared.

“Oh, Max!” 99 said. “Now, we’re completely alone.”

“Take it easy, 99. Maybe Madame DuBarry went looking for the old prospector.”

“Do you believe that, Max?”

He shook his head. “It’s my honest opinion, 99, that we just lost the mule, too. I guess we’ll have to try to make it back to town without a guide.” He looked around. “Which way is down?”

“That way, I think-” 99 said, pointing. “I think I remember seeing a path over in that direction.”

“That’s not enough, 99. Was it a path going up or a path going down?”

“Let’s try it and find out,” 99 suggested. “If it goes up, we can turn around and take it in the other direction. It won’t go up in both directions?”

“How can we be so sure about that?” Max asked. “99-be honest with me, now-have you been up on this mountain before?”

“Max, of course not!”

“I hope not. When we told each other everything about our pasts before we got married, you didn’t say a word about being up here on this mountain and knowing so much about the paths.”

“Max. . honest! It was only a wild guess when I said the path couldn’t go up on both ends.”

“All right.” Max got 99 by the hand and moved cautiously into the darkness. “We’ll go slowly,” he said. “It seems to be headed downward, just as you said, 99. I hope it’s just coincidence. If I ever find out that- Oops!”

“Who bumped me?” a voice asked.

“Old prospector?” Max asked. “Is that you?”

“It’s either me or my mule,” the voice replied. “We been together so long, sometimes I have trouble telling us apart. You that secret agent, Max 86?”

“Yes and no,” Max replied. “The name is Max Smart. It’s the number that’s 86. Where have you been, anyway?”

“Trying to get back,” the voice replied. “But I’m here, now. Let’s not waste a lot of time jawing. Follow me and I’ll lead you down.”

“Where are you?” Max asked.

“Over here.”

“Oh. . yes. . I can see you now. . very dimly. All right, we’re ready.”

“Follow me,” the voice said, “this way. We’ll be-”

“Max! What happened?” 99 asked.

“I’m not sure,” Max replied. “He raised his right arm and waved and that was the last I saw of him.”