The Rival Campers Ashore; or, The Mystery of the Mill

by Ruel Perley Smith

  CHAPTER III

  THE OLD MILL

  The two boys, thus most unexpectedly evicted, stood disconsolately onthe porch of the Half Way House, peering out into the storm. Thecharacter of it had changed somewhat, the rain driving fiercely now andthen, with an occasional quick flaw of wind, instead of fallingmonotonously. And now there came a few rumblings of thunder, with faintflashes of lightning low in the sky.

  "Well, Jack," said Henry Burns, at length, speaking with more than hiscustomary deliberation, "wet night luck seems to be worse even than wetday luck. But who'd ever thought we'd have such tough luck as to runacross Col. Witham up here, and a night like this? The boys never saidanything about his being here."

  "No--and he's got no right to put us out!" cried Harvey. "If you'llstand by, I'll go back into that office and tell him what I think ofhim."

  "He knows that already," replied Henry Burns, coolly. "Wouldn't be anynews to him. Say, I see a light way up on the hill to the left. Supposewe try them there. I wish we could see the road and the paths better,so as to know where we are."

  As though almost in answer to this wish, a brilliant flash of lightningillumined the whole sky; and, for a brief moment, there stood clearlyoutlined before them, like a huge magic-lantern picture, the prominentfeatures of the landscape.

  Past the hotel where they stood, the highway ran, gleaming now withpools of water. Some way down the road, the land descended to a narrowintervale through which a brook flowed, with a rude wooden bridge thrownacross in line with the road. Farther still down the road, and a littleoff from it, beside the larger stream which they had travelled all day,an old mill squatted close to the water, hard by the brink of a dam.Away up on the hillside, some three quarters of a mile off, a farmhousegave them a fleeting glimpse of its gables and chimneys. Then thepicture vanished and the black curtain of the night fell again.

  "All right," assented Harvey, to the reply of his comrade, "I suppose webetter go without a fuss. It isn't getting out in the rain here thatmakes me maddest. It's to think of Col. Witham chuckling over it inthere, snug and dry."

  "He isn't," said Henry Burns. "He never chuckles over anything. He'smadder than we are, because we got our suppers and a drying out. Comeon, dive in. It's always the first plunge that's worst."

  They stepped forth into the rain and began walking briskly down theroad. They had gone scarcely more than a rod, however, when somethingbrushed against Jack Harvey, and a hand was laid lightly on his arm. Hejumped back in some alarm, for they had heard no footsteps, nor dreamedof anybody being near.

  To their relief, a girl's merry peal of laughter--coming oddly enoughfrom out the storm--sounded in their ears; and a slight, quaint littlefigure stood in the road before them.

  "Oh, how you did jump!" she exclaimed, and laughed again, like someweird mite of a water-sprite, pleased to have frightened so sturdy achap as Jack Harvey. "I won't hurt you," she continued, half-mockingly."I'm Bess Thornton. Gran' got the supper for you. Oh, but I'm justfurious at Witham for being so mean."

  Henry Burns and Harvey, taken all by surprise, stood staring inamazement. A faint glimmering in the sky came to their aid and theydiscerned, indistinctly, a girl, barefoot and hatless, of age perhapstwelve, poorly dressed in a gingham frock, apparently as unmindful ofthe rain as though she were, indeed, a water-sprite.

  "Well, what is it?" asked Henry Burns. "Witham doesn't say come back,does he?"

  "Not he!" cried the little creature, impetuously, "Oh, the oldbogey-man! He's worse than the wicked giant in the book. I wish I was aJack-the-giant-killer. I'd--"

  Words apparently failing her to express a punishment fitting for Col.Witham, the child shook a not very formidable fist in the direction ofthe tavern, then added, sharply, "Where are you going?"

  "Up to that house on the hill," said Harvey. "They'll take us in there,won't they?"

  The answer was not encouraging.

  "No-o-o, not much he won't," cried the girl. "Oh, don't you know oldFarmer Ellison? He's worse than Witham. He hates you."

  "Guess not," said Henry Burns. "We never saw him."

  "No, but you're from the city," said the child. "He hates all of you.Haven't I heard him say so, and shake his old cane at Benton? He'll caneyou. He'll set the collies on you--"

  "I'd like to meet anything that I could kick!" cried Harvey, clenchinghis fist. "What kind of a place is this we've got into? That's what I'dlike to know. Henry, where in this old mud-hole shall we go? Think ofit! Three miles to Benton on this road."

  "That's what I've come to tell you," said the child, "though I'd catchit from Witham if he knew--and old Ellison, wouldn't he be mad?"

  The very idea seemed to afford her merriment, and she laughed again."Come, hurry along with me," she continued. "It's the old mill. I knowthe way in, and there's a warm fire there. You'll have to run, though,for I'm getting soaked through." And she started off ahead of them, likea will-o'-the-wisp.

  "Here, hold on a minute," called Henry Burns, who had gallantlydivested himself of his sweater, while the rain drops splashed coldly onhis bare arms. "Put this on. I don't need it."

  But she tripped on, unheeding; and twice, in their strange flight towardthe mill, the lightning revealed her to them--a flitting, odd littlething, like a figure in a dream. Indeed, when they saw her, dartingacross the bridge over the brook, just ahead of them, they wouldscarcely have been surprised had she vanished, as witches do that darenot cross running water.

  But she kept on, and they came presently, all out of breath, in theshadow of the old mill. The three gained the shelter of a roofoverhanging a narrow platform that ran along one side, and paused for amoment to rest.

  It was a dismal place, by night, but the child seemed at ease andwithout fear.

  "I know every inch of the old mill," she said, as though by way ofreassurance. "You've just got to look out where you step, and you're allright."

  Had it not offered some sort of shelter from the storm, however, theplace would hardly have appealed to Harvey and Henry Burns. The agedbuilding seemed to creak and sway in the wind, as though it might fallapart from weakness and topple into the water. The stream plunged overthe dam with a sullen roar, much as if it chafed at the barrier andlonged to sweep it altogether from its course and carry its timbers withit. Once the lightning flashed into and through all the cobwebbedwindow-panes, and the mill gave out a ghastly glare.

  "Nice, cheerful place for a night's lodging," remarked Henry Burns."Perhaps we'd better roost right here. I don't exactly take a fancy tothe rickety old shell."

  "Oh, but it's lovely when you're inside," exclaimed the child, almostreprovingly. "There's the meal-bags to sleep on. And look, you can seethe stove, in through the window, red with the fire. It keeps things dryin the mill. I've slept there twice, when gran' was after me with astick."

  "All alone?" asked Henry Burns, looking at the child wonderingly, andfeeling a sudden pity for her.

  "Why yes," said she. "There's nothing to be afraid of--only rats. Ugh! Ihate rats. Don't you?"

  "Go ahead," said Henry Burns, stoutly. "We'll follow you. It looks likea real nice place, don't it, Jack?"

  "Perhaps," muttered Harvey.

  The girl crept along the platform and descended a short flight of stepsthat led to the mill flume--a long box-like sluice-way that carried thewater in to turn the mill wheels. These wheels were silent now, for twogreat gates at the end of the flume barred out the waters. The girltripped lightly along a single plank that extended over the flume. Theboys followed cautiously.

  "Can you swim?" asked Harvey.

  "Why, of course," said she.

  Presently she paused, took a few steps across a plank that led to awindow, raised that, climbed in and disappeared.

  "Come on," she called softly. "I'll show you where to step."

  "Whew!" exclaimed Harvey. "This is worse than a gale in Samoset Bay."

  "Oh, it's lovely when you get inside," said Henry Burns--"all except therats. Come along."

  The
y climbed in through the window, dropping on to a single plank on theother side, by the child's direction.

  "Now stay here," she said, "till I come back."

  It was pitch dark and they could not see where they were; but they couldhear her light steps as she made her way in through the mill anddisappeared.

  "She'll never come back," exclaimed Harvey. "Say, wake me up with agood, hard punch, will you, Henry? I know I'm dreaming."

  But now they perceived the dull glimmer of a lantern, turned low, beingborne toward them by an unseen hand. Then the figure of the girlappeared, and soon the lantern's rays lighted up vaguely the interior ofthe mill.

  They were, it proved, still outside the grinding-rooms, in that part ofthe mill where the water would pour in to turn the wheels. It was gauntand unfinished, filled with the sound of dripping waters; with noflooring, but only a scanty network of beams and planking for them tothread their way across.

  They followed the child now over these, and came quickly to a smallsliding door, past which they entered the main room on the first floor.There, in truth, it would seem they might not be uncomfortably housedfor the night. A small box-stove, reddened in patches by the burningcoals within, shed warmth throughout the room. There were heaps of emptymeal-bags lying here and there. And, for certain, there was no raincoming in.

  And now, having been guided by their new acquaintance to their lodgings,so strangely, they found themselves, almost on the moment, deserted.

  "Here you are," said the child, with somewhat of a touch of pride in hervoice. "Didn't I say I'd get you in all right? Don't turn that light uptoo bright. Someone might see it from the road. And get out early in themorning, before old Ellison comes. Good night and sleep tight. And don'tyou ever, ever tell, or I'll catch it. I don't need the lantern. I canfeel my way."

  The next moment she was gone. They would have detained her, to ask moreabout herself; about the mill wherein they were; to ask about Ellison,the owner. But it was too late. They heard her steps, faintly, as shetraversed the dangerous network of planking, and then only the steady,dripping sound came in through the little doorway.

  "Well," exclaimed Harvey, throwing himself down on a pile of meal-bags,close by the fire, "this isn't the worst place I ever got into, if it isold and rickety. Don't that fire feel good?"

  He drew off his dripping sweater and hung it on a box, which he setnear, and rubbed his arms vigorously.

  "This is such a funny old room I can't keep still in it," he continued."The fire feels great, but I want to explore and see what kind of aplace I'm in."

  "Oh, sit down and be comfortable," replied Henry Burns. "Just makebelieve you're in the cabin of the _Viking_."

  "Say, Henry," exclaimed Harvey warmly to his friend's reply, "do youknow I'm half sorry we let the _Viking_ go for the summer. Of course'twas mighty nice of Tom and Bob to ask us to spend the summer in Bentonwith them; but I don't know as canoeing and fishing and that sort ofthing will do for us. I'd like to have a hand on the old _Viking's_wheel right now."

  "Oh, we'll get sailing, too," answered Henry Burns. "We're going to trythe pond, you know. Hello, there's a wheel, now. Looks like a ship'swheel, at that--only rougher. You can stand your trick at that, if youwant to, while I sit by the fire."

  He was sorry he spoke, the next moment, for Harvey--never toocautious--gave a roar of delight, and darted over to where his friendhad pointed.

  There, attached to a small shaft that protruded from the woodenpartition which divided the two lower rooms of the mill, was a large,wooden wheel, with a series of wooden spokes attached to its rim, afterthe manner of a ship's wheel.

  "Hooray!" bawled Harvey, seizing the wheel and giving it severalvigorous turns, "keep her off, did you say, skipper? Ay, ay, we'll clearthe breakers now, with water to spare.

  "Here you," addressing an imaginary sailor, "get forward lively andclear that jib-sheet; and look out for the block. Hanged if we want aman overboard a night like this, eh, Mister Burns?"

  "Say, Jack, I wouldn't do that," replied Henry Burns, laughing at hiscomrade's antics. "You don't know what that may turn."

  "Don't I, though!" roared Harvey, jamming the wheel around with a fewmore turns. "Why, you land-lubber, it turns the ship, same as any wheel.This is the good ship, _Rattle-Bones_, bound from Benton to Boston, witha cargo of meal--and rats. We've lost our pilot, Bess--what's hername--and we've got to put her through ourselves.

  "Hello!" he cried suddenly, checking himself in the midst of hisnonsense and listening intently. "What's that noise? Henry, no joking, Ihear breakers off the port bow. We're going aground, or the ship'sleaking."

  Henry Burns sprang up, and both boys stood, wondering.

  Out of the darkness of the other part of the mill there came in a soundof rushing water, plainly distinguishable above the roar of the waterflowing over the dam, and the dashing rain and the gusts of wind. Then,as they stood, listening curiously, there came a deep, rumbling soundout of the very vitals of the old mill; there was a gentle quiveringthroughout all its timbers; a groaning in all its aged structure; awhirring, droning sound--the wheels of the mill were turning, and therewas needed only the pushing of one of the levers to set the greatmill-stones, themselves, to grinding.

  "Jack," cried Henry Burns, "you've opened the gates. The wheels areturning. We've got to stop that, quick. Someone might hear it."

  He sprang to the wheel, gave it a few sharp whirls, turned it again andagain with all his strength, and the rushing noise ceased. The mill, asthough satisfied that its protests against being driven to work at suchan hour had been availing, quieted once more, and the place was still.

  Still, save that the wind outside swept sharply around the corners ofthe old structure, moaning about the eaves and whistling dismally in atknot-holes. Still, save that now and again it seemed to quiver on itsfoundations when some especially heavy thunder-clap roared overhead,while the momentary flash revealed the dusty, cobwebbed interior.

  One standing, by chance, at the door of the mill that opened on to theroad, might have espied, in one of these sudden illumings of the night,a farm wagon, drawn by a tired horse, splashing along the road past themill, and turning off, just below it, on the road leading to the houseon the hill.

  The driver, a tall, spare man, thin-faced and stoop-shouldered, sat withhead bent forward, to keep the rain from beating in his face. He wasletting the horse, familiar with the way, pick the road for itself.

  All at once, however, he sat upright, drew the reins in sharply, andpeered back in the direction of the mill.

  "Well, I'm jiggered!" he exclaimed. "If that isn't the mill. I must becrazy. It can't run itself. Yes, but it is, though. What on earth's gotloose? It's twenty years and it's never done a thing like that. Back,there. Back, confound you! I'll have a look."

  The horse most unwillingly backing and turning, headed once more towardthe main road, and then was drawn up short again.

  "Well, I must have been dreaming, sure enough," muttered the driver. "Idon't hear anything now. Well, we'll keep on, anyway. I'll have a turnaround the old place. There's more there than some folks know of. I'llsee that all's safe, if it rains pitchforks and barn-shovels. GiddapBilly."

  A few moments later, Henry Burns and Harvey, having tucked themselvessnugly in among the meal-sacks close by the fire, with the lanternextinguished, roused up, astounded and dismayed, at the sound ofcarriage wheels just outside, and the click of a key in the lock of thedoor. They had barely time to spring from their places, and dart up thestairs that led from the middle of the main floor to the one next above,before the door was thrown open and a man stepped within.

  They were dressed, most fortunately, for canoeing; and they had gainedthe security of the upper floor, thanks to feet clad in tennis shoes,without noise. Now they crouched at the head of the stairs, in utterdarkness, not knowing whither to move, or whether or not a step mightplunge them into some shaft.

  "It must be Ellison," whispered Harvey. "What'll we do?"

  "Nothi
ng," answered Henry Burns, "and not make any noise about iteither. He heard your ship, Jack. Sh-h-h. We don't want to be put outinto the rain again."

  Farmer Ellison shut the door behind him, and they heard him take a fewsteps across the floor; then he was apparently fumbling about in thedark for something, for they heard him say, "It isn't there. Confoundthat boy! He never puts that lantern back on the hook. If he don't catchit, to-morrow. Hello! Well, if I've smashed that glass, there'll betrouble."

  Farmer Ellison, stumbling across the floor, had, indeed, kicked thelantern which had been left there by the fleeing canoeists. That it wasnot broken, however, was evidenced the next moment by the gleam of itslight.

  By this gleam, the boys, peering down the stairway, could make out theform of a tall, stoop-shouldered man, holding the lantern in one handand gazing about him. Now he advanced toward the little door that openedinto the outer mill, and stood, looking through, while he held thelantern far out ahead of him.

  "Queer," he muttered. "I closed that door before I went up, or I'mgetting forgetful. But everything's all right. I don't see anything thematter. Ho! ho! I'm getting nervous about things--and who wouldn't? Whena man has--"

  The rest of his sentence was lost, for he had stepped out on to one ofthe planks. They heard him, only indistinctly, stepping from one plankto another; but what he sought and what he did they could not imagine.

  "He must think a lot of this old rattle-trap, to mouse around here thistime of night," muttered Harvey. "What'll we do, Henry?"

  "Hide, just as soon as we get a chance," whispered Henry Burns. "He maytake a notion to come up. There! Look sharp, Jack. Get your bearings."

  Again a sharp flash of lightning gleamed through the upper windows,lighting up the room where they were, for a moment, then leaving itseemingly blacker than before.

  "I've got it," whispered Henry Burns. "Follow me, Jack."

  The two stole softly across to an end of the room, to where a series ofboxes were built in, under some shafting and chutes, evidentlyconstructed to receive the meal when ground. Henry Burns lifted thecover of one of these. It was nearly empty, and they both squeezed in,drawing the cover down over their heads, and leaving an opening barelysufficient to admit air.

  They had not been a minute too soon; for presently they heard the soundof footsteps. Farmer Ellison was coming up the stairs. Then the lanternappeared at the top of the stairway, and the bearer came into view.

  They saw him go from one corner to another, throwing the lantern raysnow overhead among the tangle of belting, now behind some beam. Then hepaused for a moment beside one of the huge grinding stones. He put hisfoot upon it and uttered an exclamation of satisfaction.

  "All right--all right," they heard him say. "Ah, the old mill lookspoor, but there's some men dress just like it, and have money in theirpockets."

  Then he passed on and up a flight of stairs leading to the third andhighest floor of the mill. He did not remain long, however, but camedown, still talking to himself. And when he kept on and descended to themain floor, he was repeating that it was "all right," and "all safe;"and so, finally, they heard him blow out the light, hang the lantern ona hook and pass out through the door. The sound of the wagon wheels toldthem that he was driving away.

  Quickly they scrambled out from their hiding place, descended the stairsand crouched by the fire.

  "Well, what now?" asked Harvey. "Guess we'll turn in, eh?"

  But Henry Burns was already snuggling in among the meal-bags.

  "I'm going to sleep, Jack," he said. "Didn't you hear old Ellison sayeverything was 'all right'?"

  "Yes. I wonder what he meant," said Harvey.

  "Oh, he said that just to please us," chuckled Henry Burns. "Goodnight."

  The bright sun of a clearing day awoke them early the next morning, andthey lost no time in quitting the mill.

  "Jack," said Henry Burns, as he followed his companion across theplanking of the flume, "you look like an underdone buckwheat cake.There's enough flour on your back for breakfast."

  "I'd like to eat it," exclaimed Harvey. "I'm hungry enough. Let's getthe canoe and streak it for Benton."

  They were drawing their canoe up the bank, a few moments later, to carryit around the dam, when something away up along shore attracted theirnotice. There, perched in a birch tree, in the topmost branches, withher weight bending it over till it nearly touched the water, they espieda girl, swinging. Then, as they looked, she waved a hand to them.

  "Hello," exclaimed Henry Burns. "It's Bess What's-her-name. She's notafraid of getting drowned. That's sure."

  The boys swung their caps to her, and she stood upright amid thebranches and waved farewell to them, as they started for Benton.