The others turned, aghast There _was_ blue smoke spurting out around the shaft above their heads.

CHAPTER XXII

THE PRISONERS OF THE TOWER

"Fire!" cried Percy Havel. "Oh! what _shall_ we do?"

"Well, your yelling about it won't put it out," snapped Frank.

But Dave Shepard had sprung up the ladder and immediately announced the trouble.

"The axle is getting overheated. See that can of oil yonder, Ferd? Come out of your trance and do something useful, boy! Quick! hand me the can."

But it was Wyn who got it to him. Dave quickly refilled the oil cups and squirted some of the lubricant into the cracks about the shaft. The smoke immediately drifted away.

"The rest of you go up where it's cooler," he commanded. "I will remain here and play engineer. And for goodness' sake, pray for the wind to die down!"

The situation was really serious; n.o.body among the prisoners of the tower knew what to do.

While the wind swung the arms of the mill round and round, there was no chance to get out. Not that they did not all cudgel their brains within the next hour to that end. There were enough suggestions made to lead to a dozen escapes; only--none of the suggestions were practical.

It was less noisy, now that Dave had stopped the millstones; but the building continued to tremble, and the great wheel to creak.

"What a donkey the man was to let them cut his door right behind the arms," exclaimed Frankie.

"And with no proper means of stopping the sails from inside, once the wind began to blow," added Percy.

"No. That's my fault," admitted Ferdinand. "I broke the gear some way."

"Well, if we only had an axe," said one of the other boys, "we might cut our way out of the building on the side opposite the door."

But Dave had already searched the mill for tools. There wasn't even a rope. Had there been, they could have let themselves down from the high window to the ground.

"It should be against the law to build windmills without proper fire-escapes," declared Frank, trying to laugh.

But it was hard to joke about the matter. It looked altogether too serious.

The wind continued to blow steadily--a little harder, indeed, as time pa.s.sed; but the sun grew hotter. It came noon, and they knew that those at Green Knoll Camp had long since expected them back.

Finally a figure appeared upon the path far down the hill. They recognized Tubby Blaisdell trudging painfully up the slope in the hot sun, evidently an unwilling messenger from Mrs. Havel and Professor Skillings.

They began to shout to Tubby, although they knew very well it was useless. He couldn't have heard their voices down there, even if the windmill hadn't made so much noise.

But the girls fluttered their hats from the window and, bye and bye, the stolid fat youth, glancing up while he mopped his brow, caught sight of the signals. He halted, glared up at the window from under his hand, and then hurried his steps.

"Oh, you Tubby!" shouted Frank, at last, thrusting her tousled curls out of the window. "Can't you help us?"

He heard these words, and looked more bewildered than ever.

"Say! what do you want?" he bellowed up at them. "Don't ask me to climb up those ladders, for I can't. And Mrs. Havel and the prof. say for you to come back to camp. They think a storm is coming. Besides--aren't you hungry?"

"Hungry! why, Tub," yelled down Ferd, "if we could only get at you, we'd eat you alive!"

Tubby looked more than a little startled, and glanced behind him to see that the way of retreat was clear.

"Well, why don't you come down and get your lunch, then?" demanded young Blaisdell.

"We can't," said Wyn, and she explained their predicament.

"Can't stop those sails?" gasped Tubby. "Why--why--Where's the man who owns the old contraption?"

They explained further. Tubby went around to the other side and caught a glimpse of Dave playing engineer. The chums shouted back and forth to each other for some time.

Tubby wanted to see if he couldn't stop the sails by making a grab at them.

"You do it, Tubby, and the blamed things will throw you a mile through the air," declared Dave. "Besides, we don't want to smash the farmer's mill. We have done enough harm as it is. So, there's no use in backing one of those heavy wagons into it and wrecking the sails. No. I guess we've got to stand it here for a while."

They heard one of the girls calling, and Tubby lumbered around to see Frankie gesticulating from the window.

"Oh, Tubby! don't leave us to starve--and we're so _awfully_ thirsty, too," cried Wyn, pushing her friend to one side. "Get us a bucket of water from the well, first of all."

"Gee! how am I going to get it up to you--throw it?" cackled the fat youth.

"You get the bucket--and a rope," commanded Wyn.

"But if he can throw a rope up to us, we can get out of this fix,"

Ferdinand cried. "Can't we, Dave?" he asked of his captain, who had come up the ladders for a breath of fresh air.

"Tubby couldn't throw a coil of rope for a cent. He couldn't learn to use a la.s.so, you know."

"And we girls could not get down on a rope," objected Bess.

"We could lower you," Ferd declared.

"It would have to be a pretty strong rope," said Dave. "And maybe there isn't anything bigger than clothes line about the farm."

Which proved to be the case. At least, Tubby could find nothing else and finally brought the br.i.m.m.i.n.g bucket and the line he had found on the drying green behind the farmhouse.

"I can't throw the thing up so high," complained Tubby, after two or three attempts.

"Wait!" commanded Wyn.

"Hold on! Wynnie's great mind is at work."

"Everybody sit down and unlace his or her shoes. I want the lacings,"