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 horsemen had halted. They were
Dick 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
Dick, 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 Dick, “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 Dick.
“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
circumstances; but Dick 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.
“It sure doesn’t seem like there is much of anything doing here,”
whispered Buckhart. “I hope we haven’t arrived too late, pard.”
“The only way to find out about that is to investigate,” returned Dick,
in the same cautious tone.
They approached the mill, circling a last spot where the moonlight shone
down through the trees.
True, their hearts were beating faster than usual in their bosoms, but
they were fully as undaunted as when they had set out from Robin Hood’s
Tavern.
The old mill was reached at last, and they listened as they stood close
beside its rotting wall.
No sound came from within.
“Have you the candles, Dick?” asked the Texan.
“Sure,” was the assurance. “But we’ll not use them until we get inside.”
They tried the door, but it was fastened, and after a few moments they
decided that it could not be opened from the outside unless the person
who attempted it knew how.
“We’ll have to find a window that will let us in,” said Dick, in a
whisper.
Fortunately, they had little difficulty about this, for the windows of
the mill were broken, and, although they had been boarded up, the boards
were torn away from one of them. This window was high, but Dick mounted
on Buckhart’s shoulders and crept through it. Then he leaned far out and
grasped the hands of the Texan, who followed him, but made more or less
noise in scrambling up and over the sill.
“Hush!” warned Dick. “We’ll listen here a while to see if we have
disturbed any one.”
The silence within the place was even more oppressive than that of the
dark woods outside.
“I sure am afraid we’re on a Tom Fool’s errand, partner,” murmured
Buckhart. “I’m almost ready to bet my boots that, besides ourselves,
there’s no living thing in this thundering old building.”
“You may be right,” Dick admitted; “but we’ll search it from top to
bottom before we quit. I hate to think that, in the face of almost
certain death, Luke Durbin lied to me.”
“Mebbe he didn’t lie; mebbe Bunol changed his plan after that runaway
and smash-up.”
“Perhaps so.”
“Light a candle, pard.”
“Not yet. We’ll prowl round a little first. Take care not to step into a
hole or trap of any sort.”
They moved forward with the utmost caution, feeling their way along in
the darkness. Soon they found a door that was standing wide open and
passed into a sort of hall, beyond which another door opened into
another part of the building, which Dick believed was the mill proper.
In spite of their caution, they had made some slight noises, Brad once
striking the toe of his boot against some obstacle.
As they paused there in irresolution, something of a startling nature
took place.
First through the empty hallowness of the vacant rooms echoed a groan
that was most dismal and nerve-trying.
This sound was followed almost instantly by a shrill, piercing shriek,
like that which might be uttered by some one in the agony of death!
Buckhart afterward confessed that his hair “certain rose up on its hind
legs and mighty nigh kicked his hat off.”
No wonder.
Such appalling sounds breaking in on the absolute silence of the place
were enough to give a man of iron something more than a slight start.
The sounds died out as suddenly as they had broken forth, and the
stillness that followed was disturbed only by the tumultuous beating of
the hearts of the two boys.
Brad clutched Dick’s arm.
“Great everlasting tornadoes!” groaned the Texan. “That sure was letting
it out some!”
“Just a little!” admitted Dick.
It did not take the boys long to recover from the shock, which was
followed by a feeling of resentment, for both knew some one had sought
to frighten them in that manner.
Neither of them believed in ghosts.
“Wherever did it come from, pard?” asked Buckhart, softly—“upstairs or
down?”
Dick was compelled to confess that he did not know. The groan and the
shriek had echoed through the empty rooms in a most deceptive manner.
By this time both lads had their revolvers ready for use.
They remained perfectly still for many minutes, listening for some new
sound to guide them. Although they were wonderfully courageous, they
knew they might be plunging into a deadly trap, and neither cared about
throwing his life away.
Still they had come there for the purpose of trying to rescue Professor
Gunn, and they did not propose to retire without doing their best to
accomplish their design.
Finally they decided to investigate the upper portion of the mill, and
on their hands and knees they crept up the stairs. They knew not what
moment they might be attacked, and when they reached the top of the
flight they more than half expected to be set upon without further
delay.
After the startling sounds which had chilled and appalled them for a few
moments, there was no further demonstration, and the deathlike silence
of the place placed another strain upon their nerves, which seemed to
grow more and more severe. Finally they felt that they would gladly
welcome a noise of some sort.
The moonlight reached some of the upper windows of the building now, and
it assisted them in exploring a portion of that floor. But though they
went from room to room, they found up there no sign of any living thing.
“This is a whole lot disappointing, partner,” breathed the Texan. “There
is nothing doing up here.”
“Evidently not,” admitted Dick. “Let’s go down. We have not half
investigated the rooms below.”
They still believed it quite probable they would be attacked while in
the old mill, but neither faltered. Down the stairs they went, and Dick
led the way into that part of the building that had once been the mill
proper.
Suddenly he stopped in the dark and put out his hand, checking Brad.
“Don’t move!” he warned.
“What’s the matter?”
Dick had heard the sound of running water rising from almost directly
beneath his feet, and a cold breath of air came up and smote him in the
face.
“Keep your revolver ready for use,” he said. “I’m going to light a
candle.”
A moment later he struck a match and soon lighted a candle, which he had
brought in his pocket, wrapped in a paper.
The light thus provided showed the boys that it was a fortunate thing
that Dick had halted just as he did. Barely a step before him the
flooring had rotted and fallen away, leaving a great opening down to the
bed of the stream below.
“I’ll keep this candle going now,” decided Dick.
The investigation of that portion of the mill did not consume much time,
and it was productive of nothing but disappointment.
“It’s a whole lot singular!” growled the Texan. “Partner, we know
somebody was here a short time ago, for we heard the galoot groan and
yell.”
“There must still be a part of the building we have not searched,” said
Dick.
There was. They found a door leading from the hall into a short and
narrow passage, which was blocked by still another door. The second door
was securely fastened.
Their efforts to open it in an ordinary manner were wasted; but while
they sought to do so they were surprised and interested to hear a
strange thumping sound issuing from some part of the building just
beyond that very door.
As they paused to speculate concerning the meaning of that thumping,
another startling and disagreeable thing happened.
In the hall behind them there was a flash, and the loud and deafening
report of a pistol smote upon their ears. At the same instant a bullet
clipped past Dick’s ear and struck the candle in his hand, cutting it
off close to the top and extinguishing it.
Buckhart turned in a twinkling and answered the shot by firing blindly
back into the hall.
The flash of his pistol blinded Brad, but Dick—who had also wheeled and
was slightly to one side—plainly saw a man spring through a doorway and
vanish from view.
Once more snatching out his own revolver and warning Buckhart against
shooting him by mistake, Merriwell darted back into that hall and
followed the man through the doorway.
He discerned a dark figure just slipping out through the very window by
which the two boys had entered the mill.
Although he was tempted to fire on the fleeing man, Dick restrained the
impulse, permitting the unknown to escape.
“He’s gone,” he explained, in answer to the eager questions of the
Texan, who had followed closely. “Let him go. I’m for finding out as
soon as possible the meaning of the thumping sounds we heard beyond that
immovable door. Let’s look for something with which we may batter down
the door.”
In the mill section of the building they discovered a huge, rusty
hammer, and with this they returned and attacked the door, Dick having
relighted his candle.
The sturdy Texan begged the privilege of smashing the door, and the old
building resounded with the concussions of his blows. In a few moments
he had beaten the door until it was split and ready to give way. A sort
of fury seemed to possess him, and he soon smashed his way through the
door and into the small room beyond.
Dick followed with the candle, the light of which showed them a human
figure lying on the floor before them.
It was Professor Gunn, bound tightly with ropes wound and knotted about
him and gagged in a manner that prevented him from making any outcry.
However, he had managed to thump the floor with his feet when he heard
the boys outside the door, and now his eyes were filled with an
expression of untold relief and joy.
Dick lost not a moment in producing a knife and slashing at the cords
which held the old man helpless. At the same time Brad removed the gag.
“Thank God!” mumbled Zenas weakly.
When they had freed him, he was unable to rise, so they lifted him
between them and aided him from the room. Reaching the window by which
they had entered, Brad sprang out, and Dick assisted Zenas in getting
over the sill and lowering himself into the strong arms of the Texan.
Then Merriwell sprang out, drawing a deep breath of relief, for,
regardless of the flight of the man who had fired the shot that
extinguished the candle, he had feared another attack until all were
clear of the building.
“Boys,” half sobbed the old professor, “I knew you would come! I knew
you would rescue me somehow! But it seems as if I have been in the power
of those villains for ages.”
“Where is Bunol?” asked Dick.
“Gone.”
“Gone where?”
“He was here when they brought me to the place. He compelled me to tell
him where he could find Nadia Budthorne, then he left me, with a single
man to guard me until morning. With the coming of daylight the man was
to get away, and I might have remained there until I perished from
hunger or exhaustion if you had not come to my rescue. Oh, boys, you are
jewels! You are the bravest, finest chaps in the world!”
“Bunol knows!” said Buckhart hoarsely. “He accomplished his purpose!”
“But we’ll baffle him!” cried Dick. “We’ll send a warning to the
Budthornes the first thing in the morning, and then—then away for
Naples.”