Three pairs of very good eyes immediately started in to take a complete inventory of the contents of the little damp cellar under the deserted mill cottage.

For perhaps a full minute the paper ball continued to burn, lighting up the cellar well enough for them to see from wall to wall.

Then the flame dwindled, flickered, and finally went out altogether.

Chatz gave a big sigh.

"Well, I declare!" he exclaimed.

"What did you see, Chatz?" asked Elmer.

"Who, me?" exclaimed the Southern boy. "Nothing at all, Elmer," and his manner told plainly that he was both disappointed and disgusted.

"How about you, Arthur?" continued the acting scout master.

"What did I see?" Lil Artha replied, promptly; "four damp-looking stone walls, a hard earth floor, and a few old boxes lying around, but not another blessed thing."

Something about Elmer's manner caught his attention and aroused his suspicions.

"See here, did _you_ discover anything?" he demanded.

"Well," replied Elmer, "I can't say that the evidence is so plain a fellow who runs may read; but from a number of things I've seen since coming here to the Munsey mill pond I've about made up my mind this place isn't quite as deserted as people seem to believe."

"Do you mean, Elmer," cried Lil Artha, excitedly, "that tramps or some more yeggmen, like those fellows we met with up at McGraw's lumber camp, have squatted here in this haunted house?"

"Something like that," replied the other, steadily, "though I don't believe they dare spend a night under this roof. There's no sign of that."

"But what would they kidnap our chum for?" demanded the excited tall scout.

"I don't know for certain, but we're going to find out pretty soon,"

said Elmer, with a determined look.

CHAPTER VI.

HUNTING FOR THE MISSING SCOUT.

"Honest, now, Elmer, do you really believe that?" asked Chatz Maxfield, after staring at the scout master in a puzzled manner for half a dozen seconds.

"It looks so, on the face of it," replied the other.

"But plague take it," argued Chatz, "for the life of me I just can't understand, suh, what those fellows would want to make a prisoner of poor Nat for. In all our troop he's about the most harmless scout, except perhaps Jasper Merriweather. Nat is strong as an ox, but he wouldn't hurt a fly if he could help it."

"That's so," echoed Lil Artha. "I've seen him walk around so as not to step on a harmless little snake on the road. And it wasn't because he was afraid of snakes, either. Remember he killed that fierce big copperhead last summer, after the other fellows had skipped out?"

"There's one chance, though," Elmer went on, "that after all Nat may be hiding."

"But he knows the sound of the bugle, and what penalty follows disobedience on the part of a scout," declared Lil Artha.

"That's true enough, fellows," Elmer said, as if he himself might be trying to see through a haze; "but perhaps Nat finds himself in a position where he can't answer us without betraying himself to these unknown men."

Again did Chatz and the tall scout look at each other helplessly. And judging from the way they shook their heads, the puzzle was evidently too deep for them.

"Say, Elmer, you manage to get on to these things in a way to beat the band; could you give a guess now about how many men there are holding out around this old haunted mill?"

Lil Artha asked this in good faith. He had come to believe, with most of his comrades, that Elmer Chenowith was next door to a wizard. Of course they realized that his knowledge was at all times founded on facts and common sense; yet this did not detract from the wonder of his accomplishments.

"I think there are three at least, perhaps four or five in the lot,"

Elmer replied.

"Whew! that's a healthy crowd of toughs, now, to run up against!"

remarked Lil Artha.

"And what do you propose doing, suh, if I may make so bold as to ask?"

Chatz was usually a very dignified fellow, especially when coming in contact with one who, according to recognized scout law, must be considered his superior officer, and as such ent.i.tled to respect.

"First of all, perhaps we'd better go outside," the other replied.

"And tell the rest of the boys what we've found--or rather what we didn't find," remarked Lil Artha.

"Yes. There doesn't seem to be anything more to poke into here; for I'm dead certain those men, whoever they are, don't make their headquarters in either the mill or the cottage."

"You mean they don't sleep here; is that it, suh?" inquired Chatz.

"That covers the ground," Elmer answered.

"But they _do_ come in here sometimes, while the sun is shining,"

persisted Chatz.

"I have seen the marks of many heavy hobnailed shoes in the dust of this place; and some of the prints were very fresh," came the answer.

"Then if they're wanting in the nerve to sleep under this roof, when it would be so handy, in a thunderstorm like we had the other day, for instance, that looks as if they believed some in the ghost story, don't it, Elmer?"

"Why, I suppose it does, Chatz."

"All right. I'm not saying anything more," remarked the Southern boy, with a look of conviction on his dark face, "but I only hope we run across one or more of these mysterious unknowns while we're up at Munsey's mill."

"Listen to that, would you, Elmer! I declare if he don't mean to interview these fellows, and find out what they've gone and seen here in the night time!" and Lil Artha chuckled as he said this.

"All right," remarked Chatz. "There are a lot of things I've always wanted to know, and I'd be a silly to let the chance slip past me."

"Hey, how about this bally old trapdoor, Elmer?" demanded Lil Artha.

"We'd better put it back where it belongs," replied the scout leader.

"I reckon you're right, suh," observed Chatz. "If some one came in here, walking in the dark, he might take a nasty header down this hole."