"Come, let's go in, fellows," he said, impatiently.

With that the three started for the other side of the mill, where an entrance could most likely be much more easily effected.

Elmer continued to watch the ground, and from the satisfied look on his face Lil Artha felt sure the scout master must be discovering further traces of the missing boy.

Perhaps, after all, they would find Nat hiding inside the mill or the dwelling alongside. Perhaps he had been so busy investigating that he had not noticed their shouts, or the bugle call, for the falling water made quite a little noise.

Or, on the other hand, possibly Nat may have been seized with a sudden desire to tease his comrades in return for many a practical joke of which he had been the victim.

But one of the three was quite firm in his belief that neither of these explanations would turn out to be the true one.

Of course this was Chatz Maxfield, through whose mind had run the conviction that poor Nat Scott must have paid dearly for his temerity in invading the haunted mill.

Yes, Chatz feared that the ghost must have got Nat, though he was afraid to openly proclaim his belief. Fear of ridicule was a weakness of Chatz.

It often causes boys to hide their real feelings, and even appear to be much bolder than they naturally are.

Once around the end of the mill and they saw the dwelling attached to it.

Here, too, was the old road, now overgrown with weeds and almost hidden from view. And yet, twenty years ago, in Miller Munsey's time, no doubt farmers daily drove up here with sacks of corn, wheat, or rye, to have the grain delivered to them again in the shape of flour.

"Shall we try to go in by way of the house door?" asked Lil Artha.

"No," replied Elmer, "he went in through that opening where some boards are off the side of the mill. Perhaps we'd better do the same."

"A good idea," remarked Chatz, with the air of one who could not get inside the walls of the mill too speedily to please him.

"Just as you say, Elmer," the lanky scout observed; for having been in the company of the other when the latter was acting as pathfinder to the expedition, Lil Artha was more than ever filled with admiration for his wonderful talents in discovering things supposed to be lost.

So Elmer without further hesitation ducked through the opening, with his two allies keeping close to his heels.

At any rate it was somewhat more restful inside the mill.

Those walls, even if now going rapidly into a condition of decay, shut out some of the noise caused by the falling water.

Lil Artha and Chatz both looked about them eagerly, even anxiously, as soon as they found themselves within those walls which had once resounded to the clatter of the grinding.

Their motives, however, were probably as far apart as the two poles; while the long-legged scout hoped, yet dreaded, to see the figure of Nat Scott lying somewhere about, Chatz, on the other hand, was antic.i.p.ating discovering some token of ghostly visitors.

Nothing rewarded either of them, however. The interior of the mill was of course in a generally dilapidated condition. What remnants of the crushing and milling machinery remained were rusty and broken, as though tramps may have made the place a refuge, and tried to destroy what they could not carry away to sell.

The boards creaked dismally under their tread. More than that, they were loose in places, and Lil Artha, stepping upon the end of one, might have vanished through a gap in the floor only that his agility saved him.

"Wow, would you see that, now, Elmer!" he exclaimed, his voice sounding strange amidst such singular surroundings.

"You made a neat side step, old fellow," said the one addressed. "Some of us, more clumsy, would have slid down into the cellar."

"Say, now, I wonder--" began Lil Artha, and then stopped to stare at the treacherous plank that formed such a trap.

"You're wondering whether poor old Nat could have taken that tumble?"

suggested Elmer.

"That's what I was; what do you think?" asked the tall scout.

"Here, lay hold and we'll soon find out," remarked Elmer, bending over the loose plank.

It required considerable tugging to get it out of the bed it had occupied so long, even if it was fastened by no nails.

Both of them lay down and thrust their faces into the gap.

"Looks pretty dark down there, don't it?" asked Lil Artha, who was secretly shivering with the antic.i.p.ation of making a grewsome discovery, but who would not have his comrades know the true condition of his nerves for a good deal.

"It sure does that," was Elmer's reply.

"I can just make out something or other lying down there; it might be an old log, you know, and again, p'raps it ain't."

Lil Artha did not venture to say plainly that he more than half feared lest the object he could see might turn out to be poor Nat Scott. But that was a fact.

"Well, let's find out for sure."

Elmer, while speaking, was taking something from his pocket. It proved to be an old newspaper, from which he tore a sheet, crumpling it up into a ball.

"I generally carry a newspaper along when I go into the woods," he said in explanation. "And it's wonderful what a help it sometimes turns out to be in case you want to start a quick fire. Now for a match."

"I'm sorry now," remarked Lil Artha.

"About what?" asked the scout leader.

"That I didn't think to fetch it along--that new electric hand torch my father gave me on my birthday, you remember, Elmer?"

"Oh," laughed Elmer, "well, who'd ever think we'd have any need of a torch on this hike! Why, it was an altogether daylight affair, and we expected to be back home long before supper time. I even promised Mark to practice battery work some this afternoon. There, now watch when it drops. I hope there's nothing down there to take fire."

"If the old trap did go up in smoke I guess n.o.body would care much,"

muttered Lil Artha, as he pressed his face still further into the opening, after Elmer released his fire ball.

The burning paper seemed to alight upon the damp earthen floor of the cellar. Immediately both boys tried to secure a mental photograph of all there was below them.

"It's only a log!" cried Lil Artha, in a relieved tone of voice, and at the same time betraying more or less disappointment, for perhaps he had made up his mind that they were to be treated to some species of horror.

"You're right," added Elmer, "that's what it is--an old log that has lain there, goodness only knows how long. Nat doesn't seem to have slipped down into the cellar, then, does he?"

"Not that you could notice," replied Lil Artha, and then he added: "but Elmer, didn't you notice something jump when that paper first went down?"

"Well, yes, I did, for a fact, Arthur."

"Any idea what it could be?" persisted the other.

"I hope you're not thinking of that ghost we've heard so much about?"

said Elmer.