CHAPTER XII
THE PIECE OF PAPER
Anxiously did Tom’s chums watch his movements. They realized, as did he, that the piece of paper, dropped either by Mr. Skeel or the hermit, might give them the very clew they needed to locate the treasure—if there was any. And they also realized the danger if Tom was seen.
“If they catch him, it will be all up with our chances, I guess,” murmured Bert. “We’ll have to leave here mighty soon.”
“That’s right. With that old professor, the hermit, and those two lads against us, we wouldn’t have much chance,” added Dick.
“Oh, you fellows make me tired!” exclaimed Jack. “Why, it’s only four to four, and if we aren’t a match for that bunch I’d like to know it! Get out of here? I guess not much! We’ll stick!” Jack was like Tom—he believed in fighting to the last ditch. “Besides,” he went on, “as Tom said, the woods are as much ours as they are those other fellows’.”
“But the mill, and the land around it, aren’t,” returned Bert. “They could keep us away from here.”
“Maybe, and maybe not,” said Jack. “I guess Tom Fairfield can find some plan for getting around it. What’s he doing now?” for our hero was somewhat screened from the observation of Jack, though the others could see him well.
“He’s crawling forward again,” spoke Bert in a low tone. “I guess the coast is clear. I hope he gets that piece of paper.”
“What good will it be?” asked Dick.
“Some good, you can wager, or Skeel and the hermit wouldn’t have been so excited over it,” declared Jack. “I’d like to get a look at it.”
“Tom’ll get it all right,” insisted Bert. “He generally does get anything he goes after.”
The three lads waited impatiently for the return of their chum. Dick took another look, and reported that Tom was not in sight now.
“He’s probably working his way along the path to the place where the talk went on,” was Jack’s opinion.
They resigned themselves to waiting, talking meanwhile of what might happen. Then, interrupting their talk, came a sound as of someone approaching down the slope.
“Who is it?” asked Jack eagerly, for he had been sitting down on a stone to ease the pain of his injured leg.
“It’s Tom all right!” exclaimed Dick, who was acting as sentinel.
“Has he got the paper?”
“Yes, there’s something white in his hand.”
“Good!” exclaimed Tom’s college roommate.
A few seconds later our hero rejoined his chums. There was a look of satisfaction on his face.
“What is it?” demanded Bert eagerly.
“I don’t know yet,” was the reply. “It’s all folded up, and I didn’t open it. Didn’t want to take the time. There’s no telling when they might miss it, and come back. I made tracks as soon as I saw I could safely advance and grab it up. Come on down to the boat.”
“Go slow,” begged Jack, and they helped him down the slope. Not taking time to examine the bit of paper, Tom loosed the mooring line of his craft, and, pushing her out into the current, he let her drift down before starting the motor, as he did not want their enemies to hear the noise of the exhaust.
“I guess it’s safe enough now,” spoke Jack, after a bit, from his position on a cushioned seat in the stern, his stiff leg stretched out in front of him. “Turn on the gas, Tom, and start her off.”
This was done, and soon the Tag was making good time down the river toward the lake.
“What about the feed?” asked Bert. “Seems to me we’ve earned it now, Tom.”
“Let’s look at that paper first,” suggested Jack. “That’s more important than feeding our faces.”
“Here it is,” spoke Tom, producing it from his pocket, while Dick took the wheel.
Eagerly the others looked over the shoulder of our hero as he unfolded the paper. It proved to be quite large, being of thin but tough fabric, and it was creased into many folds, as though it had been intended to occupy a small space. It was covered with lines, words and figures.
“An architect’s plan! Nothing but a plan!” exclaimed Jack.
“That’s all,” added Bert in disappointed tones.
“Maybe they didn’t drop it at all,” suggested Dick. “It may have been there all the while, and they didn’t bother to pick it up. I don’t see what good it is, though.”
Tom said nothing for a space. He was intently studying the sketch.
“Chuck it overboard,” spoke Dick.
“No, mail it back to Skeel, and tell him how we found it,” was Bert’s suggestion. “It’ll show him how close we are on his trail.”
“I’ll do neither,” answered Tom quietly. “We’re going to keep this piece of paper for ourselves.”
“Can you make head or tail of it?” asked Jack.
“I fancy I can,” answered our hero. “I think this is a detail drawing of the floor plans of the old mill, and I believe it may be the key to the location of the treasure—or at least the place where the treasure is supposed to be.”
“You do?” cried his chums in a chorus.
“I sure do,” replied Tom, with conviction. “And I’m sure either Skeel, or the hermit, dropped this. It wasn’t there on the path before they held their confab, and neither Sam nor Nick was near the spot where the paper lay. Boys, I believe we’ve got a valuable clue here!”
“Let’s see it,” requested Jack, and Tom passed it over. His chum gazed at it thoughtfully, turned it around, and peered at it upside down. Then he remarked, as he passed it back: “Well, if you can make anything out of that, Tom, you’re a good one. What does it say?”
“That I don’t know yet,” spoke our hero. “It’s going to take some studying to ferret this thing out, but we’ll do it. Meanwhile we’ll just forget all about it for a little while, and have some grub. Get busy, fellows, and have dinner.”
They ate with exceedingly good appetites, while the motorboat speeded on her way toward the lake. Between bites they talked of their experience, and kept a lookout for any possible signs of their former professor, his cronies and the hermit.
“It must be that there are short cuts through these woods that we know nothing about,” said Tom, “or otherwise they never could have been on the ground at the same time we were, from where we last saw them. Still, I don’t think they can get ahead of us this time.”
And this was so, or, at least, our friends saw nothing of the four whom they were trying to circumvent.
“Well, I know one thing,” declared Jack with a grunt. “I’ll be glad when we get back to camp, and I can rub some liniment on this leg of mine.”
“It’s too bad,” consoled Tom. “I hope you’re not laid up with it.”
They emerged from the river into the peaceful lake and in due time were back at camp, without further incident having occurred.
“Oh, wow! but I’m stiff!” cried Jack, as he attempted to leave the boat.
“Wait, we’ll give you a hand up,” said Tom, and they had to assist him much more than they had previously, for a severe stiffness had set in. However, they got Jack to the tent, and on a cot. Then they proceeded to give him such rough and ready treatment as was possible under the circumstances.
“Well, it feels better, anyhow,” said Jack with a sigh of satisfaction as he stretched back. “Now let’s have that screed again, Tom, and I’ll have a go at translating it. I don’t believe it can be much worse than some of the Latin stuff old Skeel used to stick us with.”
“All right, try your hand at it,” agreed Tom. “The rest of us will get things in shape for the night, and see about supper. How about quail on toast for you, Jack?” he asked with a whimsical smile as he handed over the mysterious piece of paper.
“Nothing doing. I want roast turkey and cranberry sauce, with ice cream and apple pie on the side.”
“I think I see you getting it,” remarked Bert. “Corned beef and beans will be about the menu to-night.”
While Jack lay back on his cot, easing his injured leg, and studied the piece of paper Tom had picked up, the others proceeded to get the camp to rights for the night. Bert, whose turn it was to cook, started the oil stove, and began opening canned stuff. Tom looked to see if there was a good supply of wood for the campfire, for, though they did not really need it, they always lighted one for the sake of the cheerfulness.
“I say,” called Bert, as he went about collecting the various items he needed for the meal. “What did you do with that piece of bacon, Tom?”
“What piece?”
“The one partly sliced off. I laid it in this box, but it’s gone now.”
“Is that so?” asked Tom, and there was a curious note in his voice. “That’s queer. I remember seeing it there when we started off. We’ll have a look.”
“Oh, take another piece, and don’t delay the meal,” suggested Dick with a laugh.
“It isn’t that,” said Tom. “If things begin to disappear from camp we want to know about it, and find out who is taking them.”
Together with Bert he examined the place where the bacon had been put. This was in a box, fastened about four feet above the ground, in a tree. It was a sort of cupboard, thus raised, in which to keep stuff that was not protected by tins, so that prowling rats, squirrels or chipmunks could not get in. There was a door to it, fastened with a wire.
“Was the door opened when you went to get the bacon?” asked Tom.
“Yes,” answered Bert, “and I’m sure it was closed when we went away.”
Tom stooped down, and began examining the soft ground at the foot of the tree. As he did so he uttered an exclamation.
“What is it?” asked Bert, eagerly.
“There’s been some animal here,” declared Tom. “A fox maybe. I can see the footprints, but I’m not enough of a naturalist to tell what made ’em.”
“A bear,” suggested Dick.
“I don’t believe there are any in these woods, though there may be. It’s wild enough.”
“Those aren’t bear tracks,” declared Bert. “I know, for a fellow with a dancing bear once went past our house, and it was just after a rain. I noticed the tracks, and they were as big as a ham. This isn’t a bear.”
Tom had arisen and was looking at the door of the cupboard.
“The wire fastening has been pulled out of place,” he said. “And look! Here are the marks of sharp claws. The wood is all splintered. Some wild beast took our bacon all right!”
CHAPTER XIII
A SHOT IN TIME
Tom looked around at his chums. From the tent Jack poked his head, having limped from his cot at the sound of Tom’s exclamation.
“Do you really think it was some sort of a ‘varmint critter?’” asked Jack.
“Sure,” was the answer. “You can see plainly how he tramped around this tree, and, smelling the bacon, just reared up on his hind legs, clawed the door open, and made off with part of our provisions.”
“Well, it’s too bad the bacon is gone,” said Bert, “but this may make good hunting for us. I’ve been wanting to get something bigger than a fox.”
“It’s lucky the main part of our bacon is still in the original box, with the cover nailed on, or the beast might have gone off with that,” commented Dick.
“Yes,” agreed Tom. “We’ll have to be more careful after this, and I guess it will be a good plan to keep the fire going more regularly. Fire is a good thing to scare ’em off.”
“But we don’t want to scare ’em off,” said Jack. “I want to get a shot, as soon as my leg gets better. I’ll get a bear, or something, before I go back.”
“If they don’t get you,” commented Tom grimly. “Well, let’s get supper over with, and then we’ll have a conference on that mysterious paper.”
The meal was enjoyed, albeit they ate rather hurriedly, for they were anxious to try to solve the puzzle. The dishes were washed by the simple process of being put to soak in the lake.
“I’ll rinse them off with warm water in the morning,” promised Bert.
“What’s the use of being so fussy?” asked Tom. “The lake water is clean enough.”
“But it’s cold,” spoke Bert, “and you need hot water, and soap, to get the grease off.”
“Oh, we’re not as particular as all that,” declared Dick.
Lanterns were lighted as the dusk settled down, and then the lads gathered in the main, or sleeping tent, around some boxes that had been arranged in the form of a table. On it the paper Tom had found was spread out.
“Well, what do you make of it now?” asked Bert, when he and the others had stared at the document for some time.
“It’s a plan—a plan of the old mill,” declared Tom. “That much is certain. See, here is the ground floor, with the main wagon entrance. Then comes the second floor where we were, with the machinery, mill-stones and the like. Then the third floor is shown, where there were living rooms, evidently. That must be where the old hermit hangs out when he’s home.”
“That part is all true enough,” said Bert, “but I don’t see where the location of treasure is marked on here.”
“Of course not!” exclaimed Tom. “If it was you can wager Skeel or the hermit would have had it long ago.”
“Then what good is the paper?” asked Dick.
“Well, don’t know yet,” Tom admitted frankly. “But I think it’s going to come in useful.” And he little knew what a service that same piece of paper was shortly to render him and his companions.
“I think it’s a sell,” declared Jack decidedly.
“I don’t,” fired back Tom quickly. “I tell you what I do think, though. I think that this is only the beginning of a search Skeel and the hermit have started for the hidden hoard. This is an old plan of the mill, evidently a copy of the original, for you can see that some of the words are spelled in the old-fashioned way, with ‘f’ for ‘s.’ And the distances, too, instead of being in feet and inches are in chains and links which, though they are still used by surveyors, are not in such general use as they were in the old days.”
“Then you think that the old hermit somewhere found an original of the old plans, and had a copy made?” asked Dick.
“I do, yes. And I think somehow our friend Skeel got in touch with him, and secured one of the copies to work on.”
“But I can’t see the good of just a plan,” spoke Dick.
“I can only surmise, of course,” went on Tom, “but it seems to me that what Skeel intends to do is this: He will look at the plan, and from his knowledge of mathematics he’ll try to figure out the most likely place for a secret chamber, where treasure would be apt to be put. That would be more logical than digging here and there at random in the walls, with the risk of bringing them down.”
“That’s so!” exclaimed Jack. “But what if the stuff was buried somewhere outside the mill, Tom?”
“That’s different, of course. I don’t see any directions on this plan for digging in the grounds about the mill. It may be that there is another paper—a sort of map—that the hermit has, and if he doesn’t find the fortune in the mill he’ll have a try in the grounds—the same as others have had. But as all we have is this plan, we’ll work on that.”
Once more they fell to studying the paper, but they could not seem to get anywhere. The plan gave them no more clew than any blueprint of a modern building would have done. The walls were shown, the partitions, the location of the doors, windows, and various pieces of mechanism, but that was all.
“Maybe those words and figures, that seem to refer to the building, are a sort of cypher,” suggested Bert.
“Maybe,” admitted Tom. “I didn’t think of that. How do you work out one of these cyphers, anyhow?”
“I know a couple of ways,” said Jack, and they tried his method, but they only got a lot of meaningless words and figures, though they sat up until nearly midnight.
“It’s no good!” exclaimed Tom regretfully. “Let’s go to bed, and have another try to-morrow. I’m dead tired.”
They all were. So they turned in, after making a campfire blaze that they hoped would at least glow until dawn. Nothing disturbed their slumbers, and in the morning, after breakfast, they again began studying the map.
They were forced to give it up, however, and Tom in desperation exclaimed:
“We’ll just put this away for a few days, until we get another chance to visit the mill. Then we’ll take it with us, and when we’re right on the spot some idea may come to us that will put us on the right track.”
The others agreed that this was a good plan, and as a sort of recreation they went for a ride in the motorboat. They fished, having fair luck, and, having reached a large cove, not before visited, they went ashore and cooked the dinner they had brought with them, broiling their fish over the live coals of a campfire.
“Say, this is something like living!” exclaimed Bert, as he stretched out on some moss, and picked his teeth.
“I should say so,” agreed Dick. “I’m glad you fellows let me come along.”
“We’re glad to have you,” declared Tom. “Supposing we take our guns and go off in the woods? Maybe we can have a shot at the critter who took our bacon.”
“Sure! Come on!” exclaimed Bert.
“I’m afraid I’m not up to it,” said Jack. “My leg is just beginning to get better, and I don’t want to strain it with walking through the woods. I might stumble.”
“That’s so,” agreed Tom. “We’ll stay here then.”
“No, go on!” urged the injured lad. “Don’t let me hold you back. I’ll be all right until you return.”
“I’ll stay with you,” volunteered Dick.
“No, you go along!” insisted Jack. “I’ll be all right alone. Besides, I didn’t bring my gun, and I wouldn’t go if I didn’t have a game leg. Go ahead.”
Thus urged, Tom and his two chums set off in the dense woods, taking their route by a compass, so that they could more easily find their way back.
Left to himself Jack took a comfortable position, leaned against a stone that he had padded with leafy branches and ferns, and before he knew it he had fallen asleep.
Meanwhile Tom and the others tramped on, looking eagerly about for some sign of legitimate game that they could take a shot at. They roused several foxes, for the forest was almost primitive in its wildness, but they did not shoot the prowling creatures, as they were valueless for food or fur.
Tom, however, saw a big, snowy owl, and, as he wanted it for a specimen in his school den, he bowled it over.
“That’ll look great, stuffed and perched on our bookcase,” he said. “It’ll give the place an air of wisdom.”
“It needs it badly enough,” said Bert, “with the small amount of studying you and Jack do.”
“Get out, you traducer!” shouted Tom.
They went on for a mile or two farther, but saw nothing worth their powder or shot, and, at Tom’s suggestion, they turned back.
“We don’t want to leave Jack alone too long,” he explained.
They thought perhaps they might meet the hermit, or Mr. Skeel and the two cronies, but they neither saw nor heard anything.
Tom was in advance as they neared the place where they had left Jack, and, as he came to a place where he could have a view of the motorboat on shore, and his chum sleeping under a tree, our hero uttered an exclamation of horror.
“What is it?” cried Bert.
“Look! That beast on the branch over Jack’s head!” whispered Tom, hoarsely. “It’s just going to spring!”
They saw a tawny, yellow body, crouched on a limb directly over Jack, and their chum was peacefully sleeping. The back of the beast was toward them, but Tom had a clear view of the raised head. The tail was twitching, and the body quivering in readiness for the leap upon the sleeping lad.
“Shoot!” whispered Dick.
“I’m going to,” answered Tom, and, raising his rifle, he took quick aim and pulled the trigger.
They could hear the thud of the bullet as it struck, and the next instant, with a scream of rage and pain, the beast launched itself into the air.
CHAPTER XIV
TOM’S SCHEME
“Roll out of the way, Jack! Roll out of the way!” yelled Tom, as soon as the smoke had cleared from his line of vision, and he could see the result of his shot. The tawny beast was writhing on the ground in its final struggle, close to the prostrate youth.
“Jack! Jack! Wake up!” cried Bert.
There was no need for the last injunction, for Jack had sat up with a start at the report of the rifle.
“Look out that he doesn’t claw you!” shouted Dick, and then Jack became aware of the cause of the commotion.
“Roll to one side!” Tom again called, and his chum understood.
It was probably the only thing that could have saved him, even after Tom’s lucky shot, for the beast still had plenty of fight left in him, and doubtless associated the pain he suffered with the youth on whom he had been about to leap. The creature was trying to reach Jack.
But if the latter could not spring up and run, because of his injured leg, he could roll to good advantage, and this he proceeded to do as soon as he saw the need of it.
Over and over he went, like some living log, down toward the lake shore, and away from the struggling beast.
“Give him another bullet, Tom!” cried Bert. “Finish him off now.”
“Here goes!” exclaimed our hero, and from the muzzle of his repeater he pumped another leaden missile into the brute. He had a clear view now, with Jack out of the way.
The animal sprang into the air, fell back, quivered convulsively, and then lay still. The second bullet had ended its misery.
Tom, Bert and Dick ran up.
“He’s done for,” remarked Bert.
“Stop rolling, Jack!” suddenly called Tom, “or you’ll be in the lake,” for his chum, being unable to see the result of the shot, still imagined himself in danger, and was approaching the water.
At Tom’s call, however, he slacked up in his queer method of progress, and arose to his feet.
“That was a close call,” said Jack, as he limped up to the others. “Who did the business for our savage friend there?” and he kicked the carcass.
“Tom did. You might have known it,” answered Bert.
“I just happened to,” said our hero modestly. “I was in the lead, and saw it first. Then I fired.”
“And a good job for you that he did,” remarked Dick.
“Thanks,” said Jack, fervently, and his hand and that of Tom met in a firm clasp.
“What sort of a beast is it, anyhow?” asked Bert, as he surveyed the tawny body.
“A lynx, and a big one, too,” declared Dick, who knew something about animals. “They’re as savage as a wildcat when they’re hungry, and this one probably thought Jack would make a good meal.”
“I never heard a thing until the shot,” explained Tom’s chum. “I was sleeping soundly and I thought it was a clap of thunder. Jove! If you hadn’t come along!” and he shuddered.
“Well, shall we take it back to camp with us?” asked Bert.
“I’d like to,” spoke Tom, “but it’s a hard job to skin it in hot weather, and I’m afraid I couldn’t keep the hide. Besides the fur isn’t in very good condition. I guess we’ll just leave it where it is.”
Then, after a rest on shore, and talking over the incident, they got in the boat, Tom taking the big owl he had shot, and started back for their camp.
The next day they went off on another trip, exploring the woods and hills around the lake. They did more fishing, and looked for something to shoot, but saw nothing.
“But there hasn’t any more bacon disappeared,” said Dick one morning, as he was frying some for breakfast.
“No, I guess we got the lynx that took it,” said Tom. “I thought I detected the odor of fried bacon and eggs on him,” he added with a smile.
But if they imagined they were to be free from the prowlers of the woods they were mistaken, for, a few nights later, they were awakened by a noise near the place where they threw the odds and ends from their kitchen—empty tins, bits of food and the like.
“Something’s out there,” called Tom, as he and the others awoke.
“The hermit, maybe,” suggested Jack.
“He wouldn’t make as much noise as that,” said Tom. “I’m going to take a look.”
He got down a low-burning lantern from where it hung in the space between the two tents, turned it up, and flashed it from the entrance in the direction of the refuse pile.
As he did so he and the others saw a black body rear up, and then they heard a menacing growl, while something big and clumsy lumbered off in the darkness.
“A bear!” cried Jack. “A bear as sure as you’re alive! Take a shot, somebody!”
Dick was the first to grab his gun, and, taking the best aim he could, he pulled the trigger. Following the flash and the report the boys heard a yelp as of pain.
“You winged him!” cried Bert. “Come on, we can get him!”
He would have rushed from the tent, lightly clad as he was, had not Tom grabbed him.
“Hold on,” urged our hero. “Don’t do anything rash.”
“Why not?”
“Because that bear—if that’s what it was—is far enough off by now. And besides, he’s probably only wounded. Dick’s gun doesn’t carry a heavy enough bullet to fetch a bear down in one shot, unless it went right into the brain. And again, you’re not exactly dressed for a tramp through the woods at midnight,” and Tom glanced at his friend’s bare feet. “Wait until morning,” he advised, “and maybe we can trail him.”
Morning showed them some drops of blood, and marks in the soft earth that were undoubtedly the tracks of a big bear.
“Oh, if we can only get him!” exclaimed Dick, with enthusiasm. “Maybe he’s worse wounded than we think.”
But though they tramped about nearly all that day they did not come upon any traces of bruin, and they had to give up the chase, though they did so reluctantly.
“Well, Tom,” remarked Jack that night, as they sat about the campfire after supper, “this isn’t treasure-hunting very fast.”
“No, that’s so. I’ve been sort of holding off, hoping I’d happen to think of some solution to that plan, but I haven’t. How about you fellows?”
“Nothing doing as far as I’m concerned,” said Jack, as he limped over to the water pail. He was much better and the soreness was almost gone.
“Two more to hear from,” suggested Tom.
“I can’t think of anything,” admitted Bert, and Dick confessed to the same thing.
“Then I’ll tell you what we’ll do,” proposed Tom. “We’ll take another trip to the old mill.”
“And do what?” asked Jack.
“We’ll take the plan with us, and try to see if, by looking at the structure itself, and, then the plan, we can come to any solution. It may be we might hit on some secret room, or something like that.”
“What about the old hermit?” asked Dick. “He’ll be furious if he catches us there.”
“Well, we’ll watch our chance, and go in the mill when we’re sure he’s out,” went on Tom. “Then we won’t all go in. We’ll leave someone outside to give the alarm in case he comes. How do you like my plan?”
“Good!” cried Jack; and the others agreed with him.
“Then we’ll start in the morning,” decided Tom.
CHAPTER XV
ALMOST CAUGHT
“If there was only some plan by which we could draw the old hermit away from the mill for a day or so, we could have all the time we wanted,” remarked Dick.
“Send him an anonymous letter,” suggested Jack. “Tell him the money is buried at a point about ten miles from here, and he’ll go there and dig. That will leave us free.”
“Yes, a hot chance we’d have of sending a letter up to him in this wilderness,” laughed Tom. “You might as well say a telegram. The only way to deliver a letter would be to leave it yourself, at the mill.”
“And that’s as risky as the way we are going,” said Dick.
It was the morning after the night on which Tom’s plan had been adopted, and the four chums were in the motorboat, journeying along the lake to the river on which the ruined mill was located. They had their lunch with them, intending to remain all day, if things were favorable, and Tom had the plan carefully put away in his pocket.
“I wonder if we’ll meet Skeel, and our two schoolmates?” asked Tom, as he turned on a little more gas to increase the speed of the engine.
“Not very likely,” was Jack’s opinion. “I shouldn’t be surprised but what they and the professor have taken up their quarters in, or near, the mill, to be right on the job.”
“Maybe so,” assented his roommate. “I wonder just where our old professor made his camp, anyhow? We might try to locate it, when we have nothing else to do.”
“It would be like hunting for a needle in a haystack to look for it in these woods,” said Tom. “That is, unless we had some better directions than just Crystal Lake.”
“If we could get the boat on that lake, we could sail around it,” suggested Bert. “If he’s camping near a lake he’s probably somewhere near the shore, and we could easily see his tent.”
“Yes, but we can’t get the boat to Crystal Lake, and it’s too much of a jaunt to walk there. We’ll just let Skeel alone, and stick to the old mill.”
“What about Sam and Nick?” asked Jack.
“We’ll let them alone, too, as long as they don’t bother us,” decided Tom, and, on the whole, the crowd agreed with him.
Remembering their former experience, when the old hermit had come along so unexpectedly, they decided that it would be best not to take the boat as close to the mill as before.
“We’ll just tie it about half a mile down the river,” said Tom. “Then the noise of it won’t give the alarm, and we can go up quietly. If we have to run for it I think we can do the half mile somewhat under the time old Wallace can make.”
“Or Skeel, either,” added Jack, for all the boys were good runners, and had done well in track athletic contests.
“What about Sam or Nick, if they chase us?” asked Bert.
“We won’t run from them, that’s flat!” exclaimed Tom. “And I think they’ll know better than to take after us.”
They turned from the lake into the river, and proceeded up that stream, with the speed of the Tag cut down about half, so that the craft would not make so much noise.
“I think this place will do to tie up at,” remarked Tom, when they had covered a few more miles. “It’s secluded, and there seems to be a good path leading along the bank. We want a good path if we’ve got to run,” he added.
The boat was made secure, and then, taking their lunch with them, for they did not expect to start back until late afternoon, they set out to walk the rest of the distance to the ancient mill.
“Here’s where we hid the time we saw Skeel and the hermit having a confab,” remarked Jack, as they reached that spot. “And there’s the wharf where I barked my shins. You’ll not get me on that again.”
“Let’s take a look at the place where we found the paper, fellows,” proposed Tom. “I’d like to see if they came back and made a search for it.”
Proceeding cautiously, they reached the spot where Tom had made his find.
“They sure have been looking for it!” exclaimed Dick. “Look how the bushes are trampled down. They’ve been tearing around in here for further orders!”
It was very evident that this was so, and the boys realized that the loss of the paper was known to their enemies.
“I wonder if they suspect that we have it?” asked Bert.
“I don’t doubt it,” spoke Tom, dryly. “But that’s all the good it’s going to do them. I’m going to keep the paper until I’m sure I’m giving it to the rightful owner.”
“Now for the mill,” suggested Jack, as they turned to go. “I don’t believe we’d all better make a try for it at once. We’d better sort of spy out the lay of the land first. The old hermit, or some of his new friends, may be on the lookout.”
It was agreed that this plan would be a good one to follow, and, accordingly, Tom was selected to go forward and reconnoiter.
Advancing cautiously, while his companions remained in hiding, our hero got to a point where he could command a good view of the old mill.
“Now I guess I’ll just lay low for a while,” he remarked to himself. “If I go any closer, and Wallace is in there, it will be just as bad as if we all plumped in on him. Me for a quiet wait.”
Tom made himself as comfortable as possible, and for nearly half an hour intently watched the mill for any sign of life. But he saw nothing, and he knew his chums would soon be getting impatient.
“I guess I’ll take a chance and go in now,” thought Tom. “I don’t see anything suspicious, and if the old hermit is there, surely he would show himself by this time.”
He rose from his crouching attitude, glad enough to be on the move again, for he was cramped and stiff, and was about to rise above the bush that screened him, when a slight noise in the direction of the old mill attracted his attention. A moment later old Wallace came out of the main entrance, dressed as though about to go away, for he had on his coat and cap, and carried his gun.
“Jove!” cried Tom. “That was a narrow escape! In another second I’d have been in plain view, and then the game would have been up.”
Hastily he stooped down again, and waited until the old man had gone down the hill, and was out of sight. Fortunately he took a course that would not bring him near the other hidden lads.
“Now to see if the coast is clear,” remarked Tom, after waiting a bit to make sure that the hermit was not coming back. “If Skeel and those fellows are in there I won’t mind them so much. I rather guess they won’t be glad to see me.”
Exercising all needful caution, Tom advanced closer to the ancient structure. He gained the old driveway, unseen, he hoped, and, walking carefully about, he listened intently. There was no sound save the murmur of the water in the old sluiceway.
“We’ll take a chance,” decided the lad, and he hurried back to signal his chums. In a few seconds they joined him.
“Now, fellows, we’ve got to work quickly,” explained Tom. “There’s no telling when Wallace will be back, though I think he’s gone for a long tramp. Skeel and the others don’t seem to be here.”
“What’s your plan?” asked Jack.
“To compare the mill, as it actually is, with the copy of the drawing we have. I want to see if we can find a secret hiding place anywhere, or some means of getting to the third floor. I don’t believe that scheme of tossing up a rope, and climbing it, would be safe, for it might slip, or the wood might be so rotten that it would pull away. But I think we ought to be able to get to the third story some other way.”
“So do I,” agreed Jack. “Well, let’s start in, and see where we come out. We’ll begin at the basement.”
This they did, and it did not take them long to make certain that the plan of the lower floor, as it was shown on the piece of paper Tom had found, was substantially correct.
“There doesn’t seem to be any place for a secret compartment for the hiding of treasure down here,” remarked Dick, when they had finished their inspection.
“That’s right,” agreed Tom, who had been looking at the thickness of the walls. “They are solid enough, and unless we tore them down we couldn’t come at anything hidden in them. Let’s go upstairs.”
The examination there took longer, for, not only were they anxious to see if it was possible to secrete treasure there, but they wanted to find how the old man got to the third story, since there was no evidence that he lived in any other part of the mill.
But here, too, they were doomed to disappointment. They found that the plan they possessed corresponded with the actual building in every particular.
“And yet I’m sure there is some secret stairway or passage,” insisted Tom. “Let’s try the walls and see if they sound hollow.”
They were about to start this when Jack exclaimed:
“Say, what about that sentinel we were going to post? I thought someone was going to be on the watch to give warning if anyone approached.”
“Well, when old Wallace went off the way he did,” remarked Tom, “I didn’t think it would be necessary, but perhaps we’d better do it.”
“I’ll stand guard,” volunteered Dick, and he took his position a little distance from the old doorway, where he could have a good view about the mill.
Tom and his chums were busy sounding the walls, though they had not discovered anything, when there came a hail from Dick.
“Someone’s coming!” he cried. “Better get away.”
“Lively, fellows!” cried Tom, stuffing the plan in his pocket. “It may be old Wallace!”
They raced for the door, and had hardly emerged from it, to join Dick, before they saw, coming along the path he had taken a short time before, the old hermit.
For a moment he did not see them, but when Jack, who could not move quite as fast as the others, stepped on a stick which broke with a loud snap, the old man looked up and beheld the intruders. For a moment he stood transfixed, and then, rushing forward he cried:
“Ha! So you dare to come here; do you? Oh, if I had but known, I’d have been ready for you. I’ve got a dungeon that’s just yawning for such as you. How dare you trespass on my property?”
“Don’t answer,” advised Tom, in a low voice. “Come on.”
His chums lost no time in obeying, but if they thought they were going to get off without a chase they were mistaken.
“I’ll have the law on you!” cried the angry old man. “I’ll see if you can come here trying to take my treasure from me! I’ll take the law into my own hands if worst comes to worst!”
Then he started toward them, his gun much in evidence.
“Hit up the pace, boys!” Tom exclaimed. “This fellow may be a poor shot, but he doesn’t know what he is doing, and it won’t do to take chances. Run! I’ll give you an arm, Jack.”
He helped his chum, and the others hurried on, while the white-haired hermit, muttering threats, followed as fast as he could.
CHAPTER XVI
STRANDED
“Say, he can travel some!” exclaimed Dick, looking back over his shoulders when they had gone some distance. The hermit was still crashing through the underbrush after them.
“He sure can!” agreed Tom. “I would hardly believe that a man as old as he seems to be could be so spry on his feet.”
“He’s probably lived in the woods all his life,” explained Jack, as he limped along, “and he’s like an Indian. Are we getting away from him?”
“Well, we’re holding our own,” said Tom, as he looked back. “My! but he’s a savage-looking chap, though.”
On hurried the boys, anxious only, for the time being, to get to their boat and leave the angry hermit far behind.
“Wait ’till I catch you! Wait ’till I get hold of you!” the old man cried. “Young rapscallions! trying to do me out of the treasure I have looked for so long. Wait ’till I get you!”
“I hope he never does,” murmured Dick.
“That’s right,” agreed Bert.
They had come, now, to the path leading along the edge of the river, and it was easier traveling for them. So, also, it was for the hermit, and he made better speed too.
“We can’t seem to shake him off!” complained Jack.
“How about a trick?” asked Bert. “Can’t we make a spurt, get ahead of him, and then hide at one side of the path until he gets past?”
“I don’t believe so,” replied Tom. “He knows this path and these woods like a book, and he’d spy out our hiding place in a minute. Besides, if we did give him the slip, he might go on until he came to our boat, and then it would be all day with us.”
“How do you mean?” asked Dick.
“Why he’d set it adrift, or do some damage to it so we couldn’t run it. No, the only thing to do is to keep on until we outdistance him, and then jump into the boat and make a quick getaway.”
“I guess that’s right,” sighed Jack. “I’ll try to put on a little more speed, but my leg hurts like the mischief for some reason or other. I thought it was better, but I must have given it a wrench.”
“Take it as easy as you can,” advised Tom, but Jack did not spare himself, and limped on. Slipping, sometimes sliding, and often stumbling, the four chums hurried along the path, with the relentless hermit coming after them.
“I suppose this ends our chances of finding the treasure in the old mill,” said Bert, when they had covered nearly the remaining distance to the boat.
“I don’t see why,” spoke Tom.
“We won’t dare risk going there again. He’d be sure to be on the watch for us.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” replied our hero. “He can’t always stay in the mill, and we may strike a time when he goes away, as we did to-day. I’m not going to give up so soon. I want to see what that treasure looks like, if it’s there. I’m going to chance it again very soon, even if you fellows don’t.”
“Oh, we’ll be with you, of course,” declared Bert.
“Sure,” assented Jack, and Dick nodded to show that he, too, would not desert.
A turn in the path now hid the old hermit from sight, but they could still hear him coming on, muttering threats and calling them names for interfering in his search for the hidden wealth.
“It seems to me he’s farther back,” spoke Tom, listening with a critical ear to the progress of the man behind them.
“It does seem so,” agreed Jack. “I hope so, for I’m about all in.”
They slackened their speed, and all listened intently. It was so, they could scarcely hear the approach of old Wallace now.
“He’s giving up!” exclaimed Dick.
“Don’t be too sure,” Tom advised them. “He may be playing a trick on us. Creeping up on us without making much noise.”
“Or taking a short cut, as Skeel and those two fellows did that day,” added Bert.
“Come on!” urged Jack. “We don’t want to be caught napping. Hurry, fellows!”
“Oh, I think we can afford to take it a bit easy,” said Tom, who felt sorry for his roommate. There was a look of pain on Jack’s face, and it was evident that the strain was telling on him. Still he was game.
“Do you think it’s safe?” asked Bert.
“We’ll take a chance,” decided Tom. “We’re off his property now, and he can’t touch us. We can defy him, and all he can do is to call names. They won’t hurt us.”
“He can shoot!” exclaimed Dick, remembering the gun.
“I don’t believe he’d dare,” was Tom’s opinion. “Anyhow, our boat’s just around that bend, and we can soon reach it. Slow up, fellows,” he added.
They did, when it was evident, from careful listening, that the hermit had either given up the pursuit, or was coming on so slowly that they could easily distance him by a spurt. And, as Tom had said, they had left their boat around the next bend of the river bank.
“Whew!” exclaimed Bert, wiping his face with his handkerchief, “that was warm work while it lasted.”
“And we didn’t really find out anything,” added Jack.
“No, but we will!” exclaimed Tom, with conviction. “I’m not going to give up so easily.”
“Hurray!” cheered Jack. “Never say die! Don’t give up the ship! Bravo, Tom!”
“And we’re all with you,” added Dick, who had never before participated in such exciting adventures.
They had slowed down to a walk now, and Jack felt the relief to his injured leg, which was not so nearly healed as he had hoped. There were no further sounds of pursuit, and they all breathed easier, even though they realized that the hermit would have no right to attack them, as they were on neutral ground.
“I wish we hadn’t eaten all our lunch!” sighed Dick, as they neared the place where they had tied their boat.
“I guess there is some left, in one of the lockers,” spoke Tom. “I brought along a little extra supply, for I thought we might be hungry on the way back.”
“Bless you for that my son,” exclaimed Jack, half tragically. “I, too, would fain pick a morsel.”
“It’ll be a mighty small morsel,” laughed Tom, “for I didn’t pack much.”
“Anyhow we can sit in the boat and rest,” said Bert. “I’m fagged out.”
“I guess we all are,” declared Tom.
He was in the lead, and, as he neared the clump of bushes on the bank, that hid his boat from view, he quickened his pace. The others pressed on after him, and, a moment later they heard a surprised exclamation from Tom.
“What’s the matter?” called Jack. “Did you hurt yourself, old man?”
“No, but look here, fellows, our boat is gone!”
“Gone!”
“The boat gone!”
“Isn’t she there?”
In turn Jack, Dick and Bert gave voice to these words.
“It’s clean gone!” gasped Tom.
The three chums pressed close to his side and all four gazed at the spot where the Tag had been tied. She was not there, and a glance down the stream did not disclose her.
“Gone!” exclaimed Jack. “It can’t be possible.”
“But it is possible!” exclaimed Tom. “Can’t you see that she isn’t here?”
“Maybe this isn’t the place where you tied her,” suggested Dick.
“Certainly it is. This is the very old stump that I wound the rope about.”
“Maybe it came untied and the boat drifted away,” was Jack’s contribution.
“The kind of a knot I made doesn’t come loose,” declared Tom, and his chums knew he was seaman enough to make this a certainty.
“Then someone has taken her!” declared Bert. “Someone has stolen your boat, Tom. We’re stranded!”
CHAPTER XVII
AN ANXIOUS SEARCH
For several seconds the chums stared at each other in silence. Then Tom burst out with:
“Well, wouldn’t that rattle your teeth!”
“I should say yes,” chimed in Bert.
“There’s no doubt but that she’s gone,” said Jack, slowly.
“You don’t need a map to make that plain,” explained Tom, with a sickly grin.
“But what makes you think someone took her?” asked Dick, who, perhaps, did not arrive at conclusions as quickly as did the others.
“I can’t account for it in any other way,” went on Tom. “The engine couldn’t start itself, that’s sure. I have known it to start on compression, when it was feeling real good, and had had a fine night’s sleep, but those times were few and far between. Besides it would take someone to throw the switch even then. And I know she didn’t drift away, for I had a new bowline on her, and I took particular pains with the knot I tied.”
“Then she’s been taken away,” decided Jack.
“And the next question is; who took her?” put in Bert.
“And the following one is; what are we going to do?” added Dick.
“Two pretty hard propositions,” commented Tom grimly. “I fancy we can answer the first question easily enough.”
“How?” asked Jack quickly. “Whom do you think took your boat?”
“Who else but Sam Heller and Nick Johnson?” retorted Tom quickly. “They’re prowling around this neighborhood with Mr. Skeel, and, though we haven’t seem ’em lately I’ve no doubt that they are around here. Very likely they came past here and, seeing my boat, knew her at once. They hopped into her, and made off.”
“I believe you’re right,” agreed Jack. “The sneaks! I wish I could get hold of ’em now! I’d settle with ’em, game leg or not. I wonder which way they went?”
“Down the river, and out into the lake, naturally,” declared Bert. “They didn’t pass us as we were legging it away from old Wallace.”
“Yes, I guess that’s right,” assented Tom.
“Which brings us to the second question,” remarked Dick.
“What’s that?” asked Jack.
“What are we going to do? How are we going to get back to camp?”
“And it’s a mighty serious question,” said Tom grimly. “It will soon be dark, and if we don’t get back—well—” He shrugged his shoulders, and they all knew what he meant. They would have to spend the night in the woods, supperless. Not a very pleasant prospect, to say the least.
“Well, let’s have a hunt for the boat,” proposed Jack after a pause. “Maybe we can get a sight of those fellows if they’re in her, and if we do—”
“Well, what?” asked Tom significantly.
“We’ll swim out and take her away from ’em.”
Tom shook his head. “Not much chance of that,” he said. “The Tag would walk right away from the best swimmer among us.”
“That is unless those fellows did something wrong to the motor, and it balked on them,” added Tom’s roommate.
“That’s a slim chance,” declared our hero. “Of course the Tag may kick up a fuss when she finds her rightful owner isn’t in her, but we can’t count on it. There’s one thing, though, in our favor.”
“What’s that?” asked Dick.
“There isn’t much gasolene in the tank,” said Tom. “I only had enough in to about carry us back to camp, and it won’t run those fellows very far. Then they’ll be stuck if they’re out in the lake.”
“They may find our camp and get more,” suggested Bert.
“I don’t think so. They wouldn’t be likely to head for our camp in the first place,” reasoned Tom. “They’d go off in some other direction, and by the time they’ve traveled a few miles they won’t have gas enough to fetch up at our place. No, I think we’re safe enough on that score.”
“But what can we do?” asked Dick. “We’ve got to do something.”
“Of course,” assented Tom. “Let’s walk down to the lake, and see if we can get a sight of ’em. They may be stuck first shot, but I doubt it. Sam knows something about motorboats.”
“Ugh!” groaned Jack, at the prospect of a long tramp. “I wish we had an airship.”
But it was vain wishing, and there was nothing to do but to walk. Off they started, along the river bank, wondering what they would do that night if they did not get their boat. It would not be long before darkness fell, and with a prospect of no supper, and a night in the woods, it was enough to make anyone gloomy.
Fortunately they were all sturdy lads, with high spirits, and they did not easily give way to despair. It was a time, however, to severely try them.
“Seems to me someone must have moved the lake,” declared Jack, after an hour’s tramp.
“Why so?” asked Tom, with a laugh.
“Because it’s a good deal farther off than it was when we came up.”
“It only seems so,” said Dick. “We’ll soon be there.”
They reached the place where the river flowed into the lake about half an hour later, and their anxious gaze sought the broad expanse for a glimpse of the missing boat.
“Not in sight,” murmured Tom, shading his eyes with his hand, for the rays of the setting sun struck across the surface. “Not a trace of her!”
“Let’s walk along the shore aways,” proposed Bert. “We may see them then.”
“Oh, dear me!” exclaimed Jack. “I don’t believe I can go a step farther—not without a rest, anyhow.”
“Then rest,” said Tom. “I’ll tell you what we’ll do. You stay here, and we’ll go along the shore for a mile or so. If we don’t see ’em, then we’ll come back.”
“You may miss me,” suggested his chum.
“We can’t. We’ve got to follow the lake shore, and we can’t get beyond the river, anyhow.”
“I’ll stay with him,” volunteered Dick. “You and Bert go, Tom.”
Thus it was arranged, and Tom and his chum started off, following the winding shore of the lake, casting their eyes over its lonely surface for a sight of the boat they so much needed. It was an anxious search, and it was not rewarded with success.
“Well, we may as well go back,” suggested Tom, after a bit. “It will soon be too dark to see, and we want to be together when night comes on.”
“That’s right,” assented his companion. “What are we going to do next?”
“Search me,” replied Tom laconically. “We’ll have to rough it, I guess; make some sort of a bunk with tree branches. Or we may find a sort of cave to sleep in.”
“And what about supper?” asked Bert, suggestively.
“We’ll have to take in our belts a few holes, and make our hunger small, as the Indians do.”
They turned back, and soon rejoined Dick and Jack, who were moodily sitting on the shore. One look at the faces of Tom and Bert told the story of their unsuccessful search as plainly as words could have done.
“Well, what about it?” asked Jack. “What are we going to do, Tom?”
“Look for a place to stay over night,” was the prompt answer. “We’ll need shelter, anyhow. Let’s find a good place, and cut some hemlock branches for a lean-to.”
“A cave would be just the cheese,” spoke Dick. “Maybe we can find one if we look.”
“Then we’ve got to get busy,” declared Bert. “It’ll soon be dark.”
Rather at a loss in which direction to start, the boys walked back along the bank of the river. Then, seeing a sort of trail, they followed that.
“Where does it lead to?” asked Jack, as he limped along.
“I don’t know,” answered Tom. “It’s been traveled, I can see that, and it may lead us to some sort of shelter.”
“I wish it would lead us to a restaurant,” murmured Bert.
“Hey, cut out that line of talk!” warned Tom.
It was now so dark that they could hardly see, but the trail was firm under their feet. It led up the hillside that sloped away from the river, and then, turning, followed the stream.
Tom, who was in the lead, as he usually was, came to a sudden stop when they had traversed several hundred feet on the straight path. So unexpectedly did he come to a halt that Dick, who was right behind, collided with him.
“What’s the matter?” he asked. “See a snake, Tom?”
“No, but I see something better. If that isn’t a cave I’m all kinds of a star-gazer. Look!”
They peered through the gathering dusk to where he pointed and beheld a black opening underneath a ledge of rock.
“It’s a cave all right!” cried Jack.
“Go ahead in it,” urged Bert.
“Maybe it’s where that bear hangs out,” suggested Dick.
“Nonsense!” exclaimed Tom. “A bear wouldn’t have a cave so near a main-traveled trail. He’d pick out a more secluded place for a summer residence.”
“Say, you’re getting mighty polite all of a sudden,” declared Jack. “Go ahead inside then, if you think it’s all right, Tom.”
“I didn’t say it was all right, but I’m going to take a chance on it if you fellows will come.”
“Sure,” assented Dick, who had brought his gun—the only one of the campers who had. “We’ll back you up.”
“Then you go ahead,” suggested Tom, “as you have the only weapon. I’ll come behind and light matches, so you can see to shoot if there’s anything there.”
“Pleasant prospect,” murmured the country lad. Still he did not hang back, but advanced cautiously, Tom following him, with ready matchbox.
It was now so dark that the cave looked all the blacker by contrast. Yet no sound came from it, and the boys were practically certain that had it been inhabited, either by human beings or wild beasts, some sign would have been manifested by this time, as they had talked quite loudly.
Into the cave went Dick and Tom, followed by the other two, who had caught up clubs of wood.
“See anything?” called Jack, as Tom struck the first match.
“No, not a thing. Go on in farther, Dick. Ouch!” this last as the match burned down and scorched Tom’s fingers.
“Hurry up with that light!” cried Dick as the darkness became more dense than ever.
“I am,” said Tom, but it was some seconds before he could strike one.
“By Jove! There is something here!” cried Dick. The next moment the report of his gun sounded like a clap of thunder in the cave.