THE AMBUSH
Several of the other boys had uttered exclamations when Sid made this
statement. Fred, however, did not seem to be very much impressed.
"A haunted mill!" he repeated; "that's something new to me. I thought
I'd heard about everything queer around Riverport; but I didn't know you
had ghosts hanging out here. Where's it at, Sid; and why do you call it
haunted?"
"Oh! I'd almost forgotten all about that place," the other replied; "you
see none of the boys ever go up any more to the mill-pond swimming,
since Dub Jasper from over in Mechanicsburg way, got caught in that
sucker hole, and near drowned. Folks said it was too dangerous for us
there. But I thought I'd told you about the old mill, and how it hadn't
been used for years now."
"But is it haunted; did anybody ever see a ghost there?" asked Fred,
determined to get at the truth.
"Shucks! no," Bristles broke in with; "the boys just started to call it
that because it looks so gloomy like, standin' there deserted. We used
to play around it. I've slid over on the big wheel myself, lots of
times, and gone all the way around, under water as well. But I guess
there's no real ghost about it, Fred."
"All the same," continued Sid, "it would make a great place to keep a
fellow so nobody could find him. I understand that the owner closed it
up, boarded the windows, and locked the doors, after we quit going
there."
"How far away is it from here?" Fred next inquired.
"All of three miles, I should say," the woman remarked; for she had been
listening to what the boys were saying, with more or less interest.
"And about as far from Mechanicsburg," Sid went on. "You see, it's on a
road that runs into this some ways up. And old Toby, he lives about half
a mile further on. Now, I wonder how they ever got his limpy horse?
Perhaps they hired it for the time; or else just sneaked it out of his
barn, to come down here with."
"Just now," remarked Fred, "we don't care much about how they did it.
What we want to do is to start right off, and get up there to that same
region of the mill. Are you good for the hike, fellows?"
"Are we?" echoed Bristles; "why, if you say the word we'll give you a
run for your money, Fred, and put you in practice for to-morrow."
"Let's start right now," suggested Corney.
When the second mile had been covered, Semi-Colon was gasping for
breath, but sticking to it gamely. He was a most persistent little
fellow, and had always played a good game of ball, despite his lack of
stature.
Fred eased up a bit. There was no great need for haste, after all. The
day was before them, and they must by now be getting up in the region
where the mill spoken of was to be found.
He kept a bright lookout ahead, but trees concealed much of the view, so
that he could hardly have made any discovery. Besides, upon asking Sid,
he learned that the deserted mill was not upon this road at all; but
down a private lane, that was almost wholly overgrown with briars and
bushes, not having been used for teams in nearly twenty years.
They had met very few persons on the road--a haywagon headed for
Riverport to supply some of the local demand; a farmer making his way
slowly homeward after an early visit to the market with produce--these
two going in opposite directions made up about the sum total.
In these days it had become such a common sight to meet groups of boys
clad in running togs, and sprinting along the country roads, that
neither driver paid much attention to the bunch that loped easily
onward.
"There's where the Mechanicsburg road joins this one," Sid had said, as
they passed the junction point; but there was no reason why they should
stop; though Fred did find himself wondering whether, if he examined the
ground very carefully around on that other turnpike, he would discover
such a thing as a footprint, with the sole patched.
"If it was done by Mechanicsburg fellows," he remarked, "I reckon they'd
have come out here then, and gone along the road to borrow Toby's white
horse with the covered wagon. It must have been that last which drew
them; because, you see, they could hide inside, and nobody would think
they were carrying off a fellow."
"We're getting pretty close now, Fred," remarked Sid; "suppose you
slacken up, and give Semi-Colon a chance to get his wind. He's nearly
done for."
"Ain't neither!" snapped the game little fellow, stubbornly; "c'd keep
it up--all morning--if I--had to."
But Fred immediately stopped running, falling back into a walk. He was
looking ahead along the road.
"There's a boy just passing that opening yonder, and coming this way,"
he remarked; "and strikes me he doesn't look like a regular buck-wheat
farmer's boy."
"Where?" demanded Sid, eagerly, and immediately adding; "Ginger! if it
ain't that Wagner, the Mechanicsburg fellow who always puts up such a
stiff fight in baseball, football and the rowing contest. Now whatever
in the wide world d'ye think he can be doing here, three miles and more
from home?"
"Oh!" said Fred, drily, "perhaps they've heard the news up there, and
some of their boys have started out to see about earning that hundred
dollars reward. It might have been telephoned up, you know."
"But all the same you don't believe that, Fred!" Corney exclaimed.
"It looks mighty suspicious, in my eyes, with that deserted mill so near
by, and us believin' they've got our chum held up there," Bristles
remarked, mysteriously.
"I don't think he saw us, do you, Fred?" asked Sid.
"To tell the truth I don't; because he seemed to be looking the other
way," answered the one spoken to. "And perhaps it might be just as well
for us, boys, to make ourselves scarce right now. Here's some bushes
where we can hide."
"What do you mean to do, Fred; jump out and grab Wagner, and make him
own up?" demanded Corney, as the five boys started to conceal
themselves back of the bush patch.
"Well, we ought to know what he's doing over here, and right now of all
times. You said we were close to the old lane that leads to the mill,
didn't you, Sid?" asked Fred.
"It lies just a stone's throw further along the road than the spot where
you saw Wagner through that opening in the trees," the other remarked.
"H'st! he's a-comin', fellers; you want to lie low, and stop gabblin',"
warned Bristles, who happened to have chosen a position where he had a
clearer view along the road than his mates.
So they relapsed into silence, waiting for the other boy to get
opposite, when it was expected that Fred would give a signal for them to
spring out and surround Wagner.
They could hear him whistling, as if perfectly care-free. Fred was
reminded of Gabe Larkins, the butcher's boy, who used to have such a
tremendous whistle, as though by this means he would defy anyone to even
suspect that he could be guilty of wrong doing.
Another thing Fred noticed, as he peered out at the advancing boy;
Wagner was not in running costume, which would go to prove that a desire
to practice could hardly have taken him away over here, three miles from
home.
It looked suspicious, to say the least. Bristles was moving uneasily, as
though he began to fear that Fred might want to let the other pass by;
such a course would be very unpleasant to Bristles, impatient of
restraint. He hoped that they would make a prisoner of the boy from
Mechanicsburg, and force him by dire threats to confess to what he and
his comrades had done with the crack Riverport sprinter, Colon.
Wagner, besides being the captain of the athletic track team that
expected to compete with the other schools, happened to be the best
short distance runner in Mechanicsburg. Thus it would be most of all to
his interest to have Colon fail to take part in the meet. Fred bore this
in mind when trying to figure out whether the problem could be solved in
this way.
Meanwhile Wagner came on, still whistling merrily. He did not look like
a guilty conspirator, Fred thought; but then it is not always safe to
figure on appearances in such a matter.
Now the boy was almost directly opposite the place where Fred and his
four chums lay concealed. If they expected to surround him, there was no
more time to be lost.
"Hello! Wagner!"
With the words Fred jumped out from the sheltering bushes. The others
were just as spry, and almost before Wagner knew it they had formed a
complete cordon around him. Had he thought of running, it was now too
late, for retreat was cut off. But Wagner just stood there and stared at
them, his face showing signs of either real or cleverly assumed wonder.