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.