THE OLD MILL ON FIRE.
They all rushed to windows and looked out into the night. Off to the
north a dull red glare lighted the sky.
"What is it?" asked Mr. Baker.
"I can't see from here," replied Jerry.
"Come on, fellows! Let's go!" exclaimed Ned. He started for the door.
"Take the auto," suggested Bob. "No telling how far off it is."
The next instant the three boys were in the automobile shed, getting the
machine ready for a start. The red glow in the sky increased. People
began running past on their way to the fire.
There was a clatter and bang, a ringing of bells, and the one engine the
town possessed, in all the glory of its brass and nickel plate, rushed
past, as fast as the horses could drag it. The hose-cart followed.
"Hurry up or we'll miss the fun!" cried Ned to Bob, who was cranking
the auto. Somehow, Chunky could not get the engine started. At last he
succeeded and the boys climbed to their seats.
"It's my turn to steer!" cried Jerry, and no one disputed him. He ran
the car out of the side path, past the Baker home. On the stoop stood
Mr. Slade, Mrs. Hopkins and Mr. Baker, watching the fire.
"Want to come along?" asked Ned.
"Let's go," exclaimed Mr. Slade, and he and Mr. Baker got their hats
and were soon in the rear seat with Ned. Mrs. Hopkins, with a laugh,
declined the trip. Jerry speeded the car ahead and soon was chugging on
toward the fire, which was some distance outside of town.
On the road the automobilists passed scores of men and boys who were
running at top speed. In their excitement many were yelling at the top
of their voices.
"Where is it?" asked Bob of a group of boys.
"The old windmill!" was the answer.
"The place where we found the box Noddy Nixon stole from Mr. Judson!"
cried Jerry, turning to his companions. "Queer, isn't it?"
"Maybe he got his toady, Jack Pender, to set the place afire so nothing
would ever come out about it," suggested Bob.
"Hardly," ventured Jerry. "But what's the trouble up ahead?"
In advance could be seen quite a crowd of people in a group about some
object. Just then came a long-drawn-out whistle of a steam engine.
"The fire apparatus is stuck!" cried Ned. "The horses can't pull it!"
"I always thought that machine was too heavy for two horses," said Mr.
Slade.
The auto soon came up to the scene of the trouble. The fire-engine had
sunk deep down in a rut of the road and, pull as they did, the horses
could not budge it.
"Lay hold of the wheels, boys!" called the driver of the apparatus.
"Everybody give a hand!"
Willingly enough the crowd tried to aid. But the roads were soft and the
engine was heavy. It seemed bound to stick fast.
"Hold on!" cried Jerry. "Let us through, will you? I have an idea!"
The crowd parted, the attention of the men and boys being attracted from
the stranded engine.
"What are you going to do?" asked Mr. Baker.
"Give 'em a lift," replied Jerry. "I say, have you a rope?" the boy
called to the driver of the steamer.
"Yes!" was the reply. "But we need more than a rope to get out of here."
"No, you don't! I'll show you!" shouted Jerry. He had brought the
machine to a halt by throwing out the gear, but did not stop the
gasolene engine. He quickly fastened the rope to the rear axle of the
auto.
"Now tie the other end to the engine and we'll pull you to the fire,"
the boy said.
The driver saw the feasibility of the scheme at once. He unhitched the
straining horses, attached the cable to the pole and gave the word.
Jerry threw on the clutch, there was a tightening of the rope and slowly
but surely the engine was dragged from the mud hole. Then, once on solid
ground, Jerry put on more speed, and, amid the cheers of the crowd, he
started off at a swift pace, dragging the engine to the fire.
The hose-cart had gone on ahead and was waiting for the steamer. Power
was soon up in the apparatus, and soon two streams were directed toward
the mill, which was now a mass of flames.
There was no chance of saving it, such a start had the fire gained, and,
in fact, the loss would be small if it burned down, but the fire company
could not let slip a chance of going to the blaze. So the crew continued
to squirt water, though most of it did little good. However, there was
plenty of excitement, which suited the boys.
Those in the auto watched the old mill gradually being consumed. To the
boys it brought a recollection of the time they had there made the final
discovery of Noddy Nixon's villainy, and had practically forced him to
admit his guilt. At last the roof fell in, with a big shower of sparks,
and the fire was practically out, though the steamer continued to pump
water.
"Let's go home," suggested Mr. Baker. "We've seen enough."
"Oh, stay a while longer!" pleaded his son. "It's a fine moonlight night
and it will be fun going home later."
"You boys can stay if you like," said the banker, "but home's the place
for me, eh, Mr. Slade?"
The merchant agreed. So Jerry turned the auto toward Cresville and made
a quick run, leaving Mr. Baker and Mr. Slade at their respective homes,
and then he and the boys came back in the machine to the fire. They
found most of the crowd gone, and the engine about to return to quarters.
"Do you want us to trail along and pull you again if you get stuck?"
asked Bob of the engineer.
"Well, you might come in handy," was the answer. "We're much obliged to
you, boys."
"Glad we were on deck," said Jerry. "However, I guess you will not need
us again," and he sent the auto ahead at a good speed. "We'll take a
little ride before we go home," he added to his chums.
It was a bright moonlight night, rather warm for the close of September,
and the road was a fairly good one, so the boys skimmed along, their
thoughts on the western trip they were soon to make. For several miles
they kept on. Suddenly Jerry yanked the levers and put on the brakes.
"What's the matter?" asked Bob, as the auto came to a stop.
"There," replied Jerry, pointing ahead.
The boys looked and saw, a little in advance, a tumble-down hut, from
the window of which a light gleamed.
"That's queer," observed Jerry.
"What is, to see a light in a hut?" asked Bob.
"No; but in that particular one," replied Jerry. "I came past there day
before yesterday and I noticed that the place is almost ready to fall
apart. No one can be living in it, and any one who is there at night
with a light is there for no good purpose."
"Let's take a look," suggested Bob.
Jerry shut off the power, took out the spark plug and the boys advanced
cautiously, leaving the machine on one side of the road.
"Maybe there are tramps in there who won't like being spied on," said
Ned.
"Don't make any noise," was Jerry's answer. "Be ready to run when I give
the word."
On tiptoes the boys drew near the hut. Suddenly Bob grabbed Jerry by the
arm.
"What is it?" asked Jerry.
"Smell that?"
"Acetylene gas! Some one has been here with a gas lamp, and within a
few minutes," agreed Jerry, sniffing the peculiar odor.
"Isn't that a motor cycle leaning against the building?" asked Ned.
"Sure enough!" said Jerry. "Go slow, boys."
Walking like cats, they reached the window from which the light
streamed. As they glanced inside they saw a sight that startled them.
Lying on a pile of rags in one corner of the bare room, in the glare of
a candle, was an old man, with matted and unkempt hair and beard. His
face showed pain and suffering. His clothes were old and ragged. But
what attracted the attention of the boys was the fact that he wore about
his waist a wide leather belt, with several compartments or pockets in
it. The pockets were open and in them, as well as scattered on the floor
in front of the man, were little piles of yellow, gleaming gold.
"He's a miner!" whispered Bob, hoarsely.
As the boys watched they heard the old man moan:
"Don't rob me! Don't take what little I have left! If I wasn't sick and
suffering no one would dare play this trick on Jim Nestor!"
The next instant the boys heard a sound from the farther corner of the
room. Out of the semi-darkness came a figure. It stooped over the old
miner. There was the sound of a blow, a deep groan--and then came
darkness as the candle was extinguished.
Some one ran rapidly from the hut.
"Help! help!" called the miner, feebly. "Help! He's robbed me!"