Having done whatever he could to make the man comfortable, Merriwell sat down beside the bed and talked to him. At first it seemed that Durbin still remained unable to speak, but his wandering eyes gazed at d.i.c.k pathetically, as if he could not quite understand the boy.

"Durbin," said d.i.c.k, "I'm sorry for you; but you must know that you brought this upon yourself, and you cannot blame any one else."

The man moved his head the least bit from side to side.

"Your bones do not seem to be broken," the boy went on; "but your condition indicates that you are seriously-probably fatally-injured. You may not live an hour; you may die within ten minutes. You had a hand in carrying off Zenas Gunn. It was Bunol's plot, but it is likely you know that rascal's plans. The least you can do now is to tell me where the professor has been taken. For the sake of your own conscience, at least, you should tell."

The man was silent.

"You were deserted by your pals and left to die alone by the roadside. I have taken trouble to have you brought here, and I've sent for a doctor.

In return for this will you not tell me the one thing I want to know?

Where has Bunol taken Zenas Gunn?"

The injured man's lips parted, an expression of great effort and distress came into his eyes, but the only sounds he uttered were a few painful gasps.

"Can't you speak?" asked d.i.c.k.

Again that faint rocking motion of the head from side to side.

"I don't opine he'll ever speak again, pard," whispered Buckhart, in d.i.c.k's ear. "He's done for, and we're wasting time in trying to get anything out of him."

"It's folly to attempt to search the country blindly to-night," said d.i.c.k. "Unless Durbin can give us a clue, we have nothing to work on."

Brad looked desperate.

"All right," he muttered. "You know best, partner. I opine I'd better trust the whole thing to you."

"Give me that whisky, Mr. Swinton," requested d.i.c.k.

The liquor had been weakened with water in a cup, and the boy again held this out to Durbin's lips. A little of the stuff pa.s.sed into the man's mouth, and he swallowed it with great difficulty.

"Now," once more urged d.i.c.k, "try to tell me where they have taken Professor Gunn."

The man's lips moved again. d.i.c.k bent low over him, holding his ear down to listen, but he could catch no word, and the fear that Durbin would die without speaking grew upon him.

Looking straight into the pathetic eyes of the injured man, d.i.c.k said, in a tone of confidence and command:

"I will give you the power to speak. You shall speak! You can speak!

Tell me at once where they have taken the professor."

For a moment there was absolute silence in the room. Both Buckhart and Swinton watched, breathless and awed, feeling that in some singular manner the boy was transmitting some strength of his own to the man on the bed. They felt as if something like a miracle was about to take place.

Finally Durbin's lips parted again, and, in a low yet perfectly distinct tone, he muttered three words:

"The-haunted-mill!"

CHAPTER XV.

THE HAUNTED MILL.

A branch of the Meden runs through the northwestern portion of that region still known as Sherwood Forest. At one time all that country was covered with one great, dense forest, but now there are many pieces of woods and a great deal of cleared country, with beautiful cottages and winding roads.

In a little, wooded valley stands an old, deserted mill. The broken water wheel is still and covered with rank moss and slime. The mill has settled on one side until it threatens to topple into the little basin above the almost vanished dam. It seems to cling to the old-fashioned stone chimney in a pitiful way for support.

This is known as the "Haunted Mill of the Meden," and tourists travel far to see it. Hundreds of artists have daubed its semblance on their canvases.

Years ago, it is said, the miller, crazed by solitude or something, murdered his beautiful daughter in the old mill and then committed suicide. The people of that region tell that the ghosts of both father and daughter visit the old mill nightly at the hour when the crime was committed, which was shortly after midnight.

The haunted mill stands about eight English miles from Robin Hood's Tavern.

A cold moon had risen in the east, and it was near the hour when the ghosts of the old mill were supposed to walk.

At least half a mile from the mill three hors.e.m.e.n had halted. They were d.i.c.k Merriwell, Brad Buckhart, and Swinton, the keeper of Robin Hood's Tavern.

Not only had the landlord's demands been fully satisfied and appeased by d.i.c.k, but he had been induced by the payment of a liberal sum to guide the boys to the haunted mill.

"You can't miss it," he declared in a low tone. "It's straight down this road in the wood yonder."

"But aren't you coming with us?" asked Brad.

"Ten pounds wouldn't take me nearer the mill at this hour," said the landlord. "I've kept my part of the agreement; I have guided you to it."

"Let him remain here," said d.i.c.k, "and take care of the horses. We'll go alone, Brad. We must leave the horses, for we do not wish to give Bunol warning that we are coming, and he might hear the animals."

"Mebbe that's a right good idea," nodded the Texan. "I don't opine a man as scared as he is would be any good with us."

So the horses were left with the landlord, who promised to remain and guard them until the boys returned.

"If you ever do return," he added. "It seems to me as likely as not that I'll never clap eyes on you again."

"I hope you don't think we're going to run away?" exclaimed d.i.c.k.

"No, but I do think it likely you'll run into plenty of trouble, considering the things those men did at my place. I don't see why you do not wait until morning and gather a force to aid you. It's the only sensible thing. What can two boys do against such ruffians!"

"We're not the kind that waits a great deal," said Buckhart. "I sure reckon you'll find out what we can do, and the ruffians will find out, too."

Both boys were armed. They lost no time in hastening along the road that led in to the dark woods which choked the little valley. It demanded plenty of courage for those two American lads to attempt such an undertaking in a strange country at such an hour, and under such circ.u.mstances; but d.i.c.k and Brad had the courage, and they did not falter.

The woods were dark and silent, and filled with many black shadows, although in spots moonlight sifted through the openings amid the trees.

Stepping cautiously and keeping constantly on the alert, the boys followed the winding road down into the valley, avoiding the patches of moonlight.

Finally a faint murmuring sound of water reached their ears. It came from the little stream that trickled over the broken dam.

A few moments later the boys saw the dark and forbidding outlines of the old mill. All about the mill reigned a stillness like death, broken only by the almost inaudible sound of trickling water.