Tom Fairfield in Camp: or, The Secret of the Old Mill

CHAPTER IX
AT THE OLD MILL

Difficult it would be to say which party was the more surprised. Certain it was, though Tom and his chums knew that their former teacher intended coming to the vicinity, and though they realized that Sam and Nick had gotten off the train with camping stuff near Wilden, they never expected to meet the three in this spot.

And, for that matter, neither did Mr. Skeel and the two lads, with whom he seemed to be on friendly terms, think to behold Tom, for the former plainly showed the surprise he felt.

“Well what do you know about this?” asked Jack, in a low voice.

“It’s the limit,” agreed Tom.

“Mind your wheel or you’ll have us on shore,” said Bert. “There’s a big rock just ahead of you.”

Tom shifted the wheel with a rapid turn. He had been so interested in looking at the trio on shore that he had not noticed where he was steering.

“Shall we speak to ’em?” asked Jack.

“No, don’t,” advised Bert. “There’s no use getting into an argument.”

“And yet we might find out something about them, and what they are doing up here,” insisted Jack, who generally liked to take the initiative.

“I guess we’d better not,” spoke Tom. “Anyhow, they wouldn’t give us any satisfaction. If they hail us we’ll answer, and that’s all.”

But the three on shore evidently had no intention of speaking. After his first stare of surprise Mr. Skeel was seen to speak to Sam and Nick, and then, with a final glance at our friends, the trio turned and plunged back into the woods.

“Well, that’s over – for the time being,” remarked Dick.

“Yes,” assented Bert. “Can you see which way they’re going, Tom?”

“Why should we want to?”

“Because they may be going to the same place we are.”

“What, to the old mill?”

“Sure.”

“They don’t know anything about it,” declared Tom.

“How do you know? That story of buried treasure is more or less known all over this section, and the hunt old Wallace is making for it, too. So why shouldn’t Mr. Skeel, and Sam or Nick know of it?”

“Well, maybe you’re right,” agreed Tom. “But we can’t see which way they’re headed. The brush is too thick.”

“We’re not far from the mill, if I’m any judge,” said Jack.

“Why?” Tom wanted to know. “How can you tell? You’ve never been there.”

“No, but there’s a current setting into the lake now, and that means the river isn’t far off. The mill is on the river, so, naturally we’re near the mill. Q. E. D., as we used to say after we’d floundered through a geometry proposition.”

“Well, maybe you’re right,” admitted our hero.

“Another thing,” went on Jack. “If we’re near the mill, so are those fellows. So you see – ”

“By Jove!” cried Tom. “I shouldn’t be surprised but what you were right, Jack. This man Skeel would be up to any proposition to make money, and he may, as you say, have heard the rumor of treasure in the old mill.”

“How do you account for him meeting Sam and Nick?” asked Bert.

“Oh, it probably just happened,” suggested Tom. “If they are camping near here, and Skeel is doing the same thing, it’s not out of reason that they should meet. Well, if they’re after the treasure in the old mill I don’t see what’s to prevent us having a go for the same thing.”

“If Old Wallace will let us,” put in Bert.

“Oh, well, we’ll have to take a chance with him,” said Tom. “We’ll have to wait until he’s away from home, which he seems to be most of the time.”

“And if we get the treasure, what will we do with it?” inquired Dick.

“Wait until we do,” laughed Tom. “I don’t believe there is one chance in a thousand of there being any treasure there, and if there is, it’s a hundred to one shot that we can’t find it, nor can anyone else. But it will be fun to have a go for it.”

“And if we do find it,” put in Jack, “we’ll all take a trip to Europe.”

“No,” spoke Tom, quietly, “if we do find any treasure, it will have to go to the one who owns it – the old hermit, very likely.”

“Oh pshaw!” cried Jack. “After the mean way he treated us, Tom?”

“Sure. Right is right. But say, don’t let’s get into an argument over such a remote possibility. Wait until we get to the mill, and have a look around. I’m an expert on buried treasure, and I can tell, as soon as I see a place, what the prospects are,” and Tom’s chums joined in his hearty laugh.

“Well, speed up,” suggested Jack, “and we’ll see what sort of an Eldorado lies before us. Westward ho!” and he struck a dramatic attitude.

Tom turned on more gasolene and advanced the spark, so that the Tag shot ahead. There was no further sign of Professor Skeel and the two boys.

“There’s the river!” exclaimed Bert, about a quarter of an hour later, as the boat went around a bend, and they came into view of a stream flowing into the lake. It was as wild and picturesque as the lake itself, with big trees on either bank, overhanging the water in places.

“Say, that’s great!” cried Tom. “I’m going to get some pictures of that. Take the wheel, Jack, while I get out my camera.”

Tom was soon snapping away, getting a number of fine views, while with Jack at the wheel, and Dick to watch the motor, the Tag swept slowly into the river. The current was not strong at this point, and it was possible to slow down to half speed, as the lads did not know the character of the water, nor how much depth there was, though the Tag did not draw more than two feet.

“Let’s see who’ll spot the old mill first,” proposed Tom, as he adjusted his camera to take more pictures when the ruin should be sighted.

“I’d rather get the first sight of the hidden treasure,” declared Jack, who seemed to have more faith in the existence of the secret horde than did the others. “Anyone can see a mill,” he went on, “but it takes an eagle eye to spot treasure.”

“And I suppose you think you’ve got the eagle eye!” laughed Bert.

“Sure I have. Say, Dick, isn’t it almost lunch time?”

“I don’t know. I’m not the cook this week. It’s up to Tom.”

“Can we eat, Tom?” asked his roommate at Elmwood Hall.

“Not until we get to the mill. Work before pleasure, my boy. That’s the rule here.”

“Well then, get ready with the grub,” said Jack, quietly, “for there’s your mill,” and he pointed just ahead of them.

“By Jove! So it is!” exclaimed Tom.

They had gone around a turn in the river, and on one bank, situated on a little rise, were the ruins of an old stone mill.

In its day it had been a big structure, built of field stone, and it must have been a substantial place to which the settlers for miles around probably came with their grain. But now it was in ruins, through the ravages of time and the hands of those who sought the treasure.

As the boat approached it the boys could see where a flume had been built to take the water from the river, and direct it over a big wheel. Of the latter there was little left. Trees and underbrush grew up close to the old structure, near which were the rotting remains of a wharf where, in the olden days, likely, the craft of the settlers had tied up when they came with grist.

“Say, it’s a wonderful ruin all right,” said Tom in a low voice. “Put over to shore, Jack, while I get a picture. Then we’ll get out and have a look around.”

As Tom focused his camera, and clicked the shutter, there was a movement in the tangle of vines and bushes near what had been the main entrance to the mill.

“Look out!” exclaimed Jack. “Some one’s coming!”

CHAPTER X
A CURIOUS CONFERENCE

Holding themselves in readiness for whatever they might see, or for whatever might happen, the boys peered anxiously toward the place whence the noise and movement came.

“False alarm!” laughed Tom, as a fox leaped into view and then, seeing human enemies, slunk out of sight.

“It made noise enough for a man,” declared Jack. “I sure thought it was the hermit getting ready to repel boarders.”

“And treasure seekers,” added Dick.

“Well, let’s go ashore,” suggested Bert. “That is, if Tom is done taking fancy snap shots of the old ruin.”

“Sure, I’ve got pictures enough for now, though I may want some from the other side,” assented our hero.

Making the boat fast to the rotting wharf, the four lads climbed out and made ready to inspect the old ruin.

“Look out!” suddenly called Tom. “That’s a weak plank you’re stepping on, Jack. You’ll be through it in another minute!”

He made a grab for his chum, but it was too late. Jack, who had hurried on in advance of the others, had stepped on a board of the wharf that was but a mere rotten shell, and, an instant later, one foot went through it, and Jack slipped down to his hip, the other leg doubled up under him.

“Help! Help!” he cried, in mock seriousness. “One foot’s in the water, and the other will be in a minute.”

“Are you hurt?” asked Bert anxiously.

“No, but if this leg isn’t skinned all the way up I’m a loon. Pull me out, can’t you?”

As Bert and Dick started toward him Tom called:

“Stand back! If we all crowd up on those old boards we will all be through. Wait until I can lay another plank down, that isn’t so near gone. Then we can give you a hand.”

With the aid of Bert and Dick, our hero ripped off a more substantial board, and then, stepping on this they managed to pull Jack from his uncomfortable position, for he could not help himself.

“Well, how about you?” asked Tom, when they had all made their way off the old wharf to shore.

“Oh, so-so. I’m badly battered up, but still in the ring. One foot is well soaked, but it’s warm weather and I guess I won’t get the epizootic. Say, though, I’m going to be lame,” and Jack limped along.

An examination showed that his right leg was painfully skinned and bruised, where it had scraped on the edges of the hole in the plank, as his foot went through the timber.

“We’ll bandage it up when we get to camp,” said Tom, as he used an extra handkerchief on the worst cut of his chum’s leg. “Do you feel able to go on to the mill, or shall we turn back, Jack?”

“Go on, of course,” declared the injured one. “I’m not going to let a little thing like a game leg stand between me and a treasure hunt. Lead on, captain!”

“That’s the talk!” exclaimed Bert. “You’ll get the best of the pirates’ hoard yet.”

“Now go a bit easy,” cautioned Tom. “It may be that Old Wallace is around somewhere, and, as this is his property, he’d be justified in making a row if he found us here. So go a bit slow until we size up the situation.”

They were on the lower side of the mill now, the side nearest the river. The ancient structure consisted of three stories. The lower one was a sort of basement, on a level with the lower ground, where it was evident that wagons had driven in to receive their loads of grain. Here too, was some of the old machinery of the mill, the levers that controlled the water gate and other things, but now all rotted and fallen into decay.

“Say, this would be the place where the treasure would be buried, if anywhere,” declared Jack.

“I don’t think so,” spoke Tom. “It’s too conspicuous.”

“That’s just it,” argued Jack. “The more conspicuous a thing is, the harder it is to find it, sometimes. Nothing is more difficult to pick up, sometimes, than something right under your nose, as the saying is.”

“That’s right,” agreed Bert. “Did you ever play the geography game?”

“No. What is it?” asked Tom.

“Well, you take a big map, and ask a person to find some country, city, lake or river, as the case is. Most persons pick out for the puzzle a name printed in very small type, but those who know select a name printed in big letters, that take up half the map, maybe. And it most always happens that this is the hardest to find. I didn’t originate that,” he added, modestly. “I think Poe speaks of it in one of his stories.”

“That’s right,” agreed Tom. “At any rate some one has had a try for the treasure here, at any rate, if signs of digging go for anything.”

This was indeed so, for the ground was torn up, and in many places stones had been knocked out of the thick walls, as if some one had looked for secret hiding places.

“Well, we can’t stop to dig now,” said Tom. “But if things go right we may later. Let’s go up on the main floor,” and he started toward an ancient doorway.

“Not there!” cried Jack, holding back his chum.

“Why not?”

“The boards there will be as rotten as those on the wharf, and we’ll all take a tumble. Let’s go outside and around on the solid earth. I don’t want to put my other leg out of commission,” and he limped out of the basement of the ancient mill.

The others followed, and soon they stood in the doorway of what had evidently been the main entrance to the ancient structure. It was on a level with the higher ground, farther back from the river.

This floor contained the mill-stones, now fallen from their position, and encumbered with wreckage. There were several rooms, opening one into the other, now that the doors had fallen from their hinges, and here were holes that went through to the floor above. These holes had once contained the chutes through which the grain was fed to the mill-stones.

“There might be treasure here almost anywhere,” remarked Jack, as he looked about.

“And it’s been pretty well grubbed for,” commented Tom. “They’ve almost ripped the insides out of the mill looking for it. I suppose old Wallace has cut and sawed and pulled apart until it’s a wonder the old mill hangs together.”

“It’s a well-built old place,” said Dick. “The stone walls are thick. There may be a hiding place in them.”

“I shouldn’t wonder,” and Bert shrugged his shoulders. “Well, it’s going to be a job to take them apart all right,” and he looked at the stones imbedded in mortar that was as good still as it was the day it was mixed.

The boys wandered about the main floor, and looked for a place to ascend to the third story, but there seemed to be none.

“If we had a rope we could make it,” said Tom. “We’ll bring one next time.”

“Huh! How you going to get up there to fasten it?” asked Bert.

“Tie a stick on the end, throw the stick up, and when it catches, crossways, in one of the chute-holes we can go up easily enough.”

“Good boy! Bright idea!” complimented Jack. “Well, let’s see if we can find where old Wallace hangs out. We haven’t come across his living quarters yet.”

There were several rooms they had not yet explored, and they now proceeded to visit them. They had evidently been the living apartments of the former miller, but now they were pretty much in ruins.

“No signs of a course dinner having been prepared here,” commented Tom. “It smells as musty as time. He must hang out somewhere else.”

“Upstairs, I’ll wager,” said Dick.

“But how does he get up?” asked Jack.

“Oh, he has some secret way,” declared Tom. “We’ll have to get a rope and explore that third story all right.”

“Say, maybe we’re staying too long now,” suggested Bert. “Old Wallace may come along and nab us. We’ve seen all there is to, I guess, except upstairs.”

“But we haven’t seen any gold,” said Jack. “I want to find some before I go back.”

“Get out!” laughed Tom. “All the gold there is in this mill you can put in your eye. But I think it might be a good idea to look outside a bit. Maybe there’s some outbuilding, or some secret cache where the pirates or settlers hid their stuff. We’ll take a look.”

“And then we’ll have some eats!” suggested Jack. “I’m as hungry as the proverbial bear.”

They strolled about the old mill, and saw more signs of where a search had been made for the reputed treasure. Holes innumerable were on every side, but the attempts to locate the hidden gold had soon been given over, for the excavations were shallow.

“Now for the eats!” exclaimed Jack, as they started for the dock where their boat was tied. “Lands! but I’m stiff!”

He really was limping painfully, and his chums had to help him down the hill to the river. As they approached their boat Tom, who was slightly in advance, uttered an exclamation of surprise as he peered along a path that led up the river.

“What is it?” asked Dick.

“Look,” was the answer. “Old Wallace! We got away just in time.”

“And see who’s with him!” exclaimed Jack, in a hoarse whisper. “Professor Skeel!”

“By Jove! So it is!” gasped Tom. “Wonders will never cease. Have they seen us?”

It was evident they had not, but to make sure of it the boys hurried behind a screen of bushes, where they could see but not be observed.

“Look!” exclaimed Tom again. “They’re going to have a conference.”

As he spoke the others could see that the former professor and the old hermit had come to a halt in a place where the path widened. It was in a little glade, and, sitting down beneath the trees, the two men, one of whom had played such a strange part in Tom’s life, and the other, who was destined to, proceeded to talk earnestly.

What they said could not be heard, but it was evident that it was some subject that interested them both, for they held their heads close together as if afraid of being overheard. They little realized that they were being watched.

“What are they doing now?” asked Dick.

“The old hermit has some sort of a paper,” said Tom.

“And he’s showing it to Mr. Skeel,” added Bert.

“Maybe it’s some sort of map to tell where the treasure is,” suggested Dick.

“But why would he be showing it to our old professor?” asked Tom. “If he wants to keep it a secret why is he giving it away like that?”

“Hard to say,” commented Jack. “I think, though – ”

He did not finish, for at that moment Mr. Skeel and the hermit leaped to their feet and gazed down the path as though they heard some one coming.

CHAPTER XI
AN ANGRY HERMIT

“Something new on the programme,” commented Tom in low voice.

“Do you think they heard us?” asked Dick.

“No, they couldn’t. And they don’t see us. They’re looking the other way,” said Jack.

“But there’s something doing,” declared Bert. “I wonder what it is?”

They had their answer a moment later, when there came into view around the bend in the path Sam Heller and Nick Johnson.

“Well, I’ll be jiggered!” gasped Tom. “We meet them at every turn.”

“I wonder how they got here so soon after we met them?” asked Bert. “It’s quite a distance to walk.”

“Maybe they took a short cut,” suggested Jack.

“Hush! Look what’s going on now,” advised Tom.

As they glanced toward where the professor and the hermit had held a conference, they saw the old man transported into one of his fits of rage.

He stamped about, and shook his fist at Sam and Nick, occasionally changing by making threatening gestures at Mr. Skeel.

“Say, he’s the limit!” murmured Dick.

“Listen,” cautioned Tom. “He’s saying something.”

“Leave here! Leave here at once!” commanded old Wallace, almost hitting the two lads as he shook his fists at them. “How dare you come on my property? You are after the treasure; are you? Well, you shall never find it! I will locate it! I will make the old mill give up its secret! Be off!”

“Wait, wait,” said Mr. Skeel in a calm voice, laying his hand on the hermit’s arm.

“Ha! You too are in a plot against me, I believe!” cried the angry hermit. “I am sorry I ever had anything to do with you. Go away!” and he took hold of the professor, and began shoving him away down the path.

“One minute,” said Mr. Skeel in soothing tones, much different from the harsh ones he had almost constantly used in his classes at Elmwood Hall. “What is it you object to?”

“These lads – what are they doing here? Are they spying on me?” and the aged man pointed at Nick and Sam.

“They are my assistants,” said the professor soothingly, and, though he spoke in a low tone, Tom and his chums could hear him. “Without their aid I can not help you,” Mr. Skeel went on, and when the hermit’s back was turned toward him our hidden friends distinctly saw the professor make a signal of caution and of acquiescence toward the two lads, who craftily nodded their understanding.

“Your assistants?” asked the hermit.

“Yes. If you want me to help you I must have them to help me. I would have told you about them, but I did not get the chance until they came so unexpectedly. Had they known that you objected to their presence they would have remained away. But I assure you that you can trust them.”

“Well,” said the hermit, bitterly, “since I have told you part of my secret, and trusted you with it, I suppose your assistants must be in on it. But no more! No more!” and he shook his fist toward the clouds, and glanced around as though he feared more intruders. “There were some other boys around the other day,” the aged man went on, “and if I find them sneaking about my mill it will be the worse for them.”

“Say, we did get away just in time,” whispered Jack.

“That’s right,” agreed Dick.

“But what in the world does Skeel mean by saying he is going to help Wallace, and that Sam and Nick are his assistants, I wonder?” asked Bert.

“That’s easy to guess,” answered Tom. “Skeel, somehow or other, has heard about the treasure. Now he’s trying to soft-soap the hermit into letting him have a hunt for it. Probably he’s promised to turn most of it over to the old man.”

“I think I see him doing it, if he finds it,” commented Bert.

“And Skeel has the nerve to say that Sam and Nick are his helpers,” said Jack. “Hot helpers they are!”

“Oh, that was just a bit of jollying, thought up on the spur of the moment,” declared Tom. “He didn’t figure on Sam and Nick following him, and he had to concoct some story to account for their presence. Though I don’t doubt but what Skeel, and those two cronies, are in thick about some scheme.”

“Searching for the treasure?” asked Dick.

“I believe so. Well, they’ve got one advantage of us, but maybe we can get ahead of them yet,” spoke Tom. “If only we can get a chance to do some exploring we’ll do it. But we can’t do anything more now.”

“No, let’s go down to the boat and eat,” suggested Jack. “I’m still hungry.”

“Wait a minute,” advised Tom. “I think they’re going to move on, and we don’t want to run into them.”

As they watched they saw Sam and Nick turn and retrace their steps back along the path. They had held a little conversation with Mr. Skeel, to one side, so that the hermit had not heard, though he eyed them suspiciously. Then Mr. Skeel and the old man resumed their talk.

“Lucky that Sam and Nick didn’t come this way,” said Tom, as he helped Jack to stand up. “Now don’t make any more noise than you can help, or they may hear us.”

“They’ll hear the boat when it starts,” said Dick.

“I’ll drift down the river a bit before I crank up,” spoke Tom. “Come on, everybody.”

They started down the bank, toward their boat, having come to a halt a little distance from it. Suddenly Dick, who was in the rear, uttered an exclamation.

“What is it?” called Tom sharply.

“They’re going away – Skeel and the hermit, and one of them has dropped a piece of paper on the path.”

“A piece of paper!” exclaimed Tom. “We must have that! Here, wait a minute! If they don’t miss it, and come back for it, I’ll get it.”

He crawled cautiously back to his former post of observation behind the screen of bushes.