A BROKEN DOOR
Fred took charge of the combined forces. Somehow the others appeared to
look to him to do this.
"Seems to be all boarded up across the windows," he remarked.
"I told you I'd heard the owner did that a long time ago," said Sid, at
his elbow.
"And the doors look like they might be locked tight, too," Fred
continued.
"Oh! we can bust one in; that's easy," chuckled Bristles, who was always
ready to proceed to extreme methods; where Fred might think to try
strategy, he would attempt force.
"But they must have found some way to get in; and unless we made sure to
guard that point, they'd have a way to escape handy," the leader went
on.
"Say, wouldn't that be hard luck, though?" Corney exclaimed; "for us to
rush in one door, and have the bunch of kidnappers pop out another."
"I'd be half sick if I didn't get a chance to see who they are,"
ventured little Semi-Colon.
"And me, if I lost a splendid opportunity to use this lovely club,"
Bristles remarked, swinging the article in question around his head,
until it fairly whistled through the air.
"Is there any hole they might get out of, Sid?" asked Fred.
"Well," replied the other, speedily; "if I was in there, and heard some
hot-headed fellows banging on the door with all sorts of clubs, I think
I'd make a break for the old wheel, and take my chances climbing down.
If one of the rotten paddles broke, it'd mean a ducking in the pond
below; but I'd risk that."
"All right," Fred said, quickly; "we'll try to stop up that leak,
Corney."
"That's me," replied the other, stepping out of the line.
"You and Semi-Colon guard the wheel; and if anybody tries to escape that
way, I don't need to tell you what to do."
"And we'll do it, all right; won't we, Semi?" Corney boasted,
immediately swinging around, and heading toward the spot where the
moss-covered wheel of the deserted mill could be seen, with little
streams of water trickling over it from the broken sluiceway above.
"The rest of us will tackle one of the doors, and break it in, if it's
fast," Fred went on to say.
"And don't let's be all day about it, either," remarked the impatient
Bristles, who was fretting all the while because he could not be doing
something.
"Come on!" said Fred.
He headed straight for the nearest door as he spoke, with three anxious
followers at his heels. Felix Wagner was looking particularly well
pleased. He had not anticipated such a treat when deciding to walk all
the way back from Tenafly that morning. And he felt that things were all
coming in his direction at a furious rate.
"Fast; eh, Fred?" asked Sid, as he saw the other make a vain attempt to
open the door of the mill; through which doubtless the office had been
reached in times past, when the neighboring farmers all came here daily
to have their grist ground, and to carry home their flour.
"It sure is; I can't seem to budge it," came the reply.
"Wonder if they went in here?" hazarded Bristles, himself giving a
fierce though ineffective push.
"We can settle that easy enough," remarked Fred; "by seeing if there are
any signs of new footprints here before this door."
"Well, you do take the cake thinkin' up things," muttered Bristles, as
he dropped down to examine the soil.
"They're here, all right, Fred!" he announced quickly, in a thrilling
whisper.
"Perhaps you even see that shoe print that shows the patch?" asked Fred.
"Right you are," Bristles immediately announced; "just what you told us
to watch for. Boys, we've tracked the abductors of our chum to their
lair; and now to smash in the door, and jump 'em!"
"But however in the wide world do you think they got in here, if the old
door is locked?" demanded Wagner, curiously, and wondering if Fred could
give an answer to that question as easily as he seemed to solve other
mysteries.
"I think a key has been used here lately," replied the other. "I can see
marks around the keyhole to tell that. Chances are, they had one made to
fit the door. A smart fellow could take an impression of the lock with
wax, or something, and a locksmith would make him a key that would
answer.
"But, perhaps, if two or three of us could get our shoulders against the
old thing we might manage to force it. The chances are it's pretty punk,
being so old; and the lock must be rusty, too."
"Then let's make a try; and me to be one of the pushers," Bristles
said, as he began to get his sturdy frame locked in an attitude where he
could exert the most force.
Fred and Wagner took their places alongside, managing to crowd in; while
even Sid put his stick against the upper part of the door, as though
meaning to add to the united pressure as well as he could.
"Ready?" asked Fred.
"Yep!" came from Bristles; while Felix grunted his assent.
"Then all together, now!" exclaimed the leader.
"She moved then, Fred!" gasped the pleased Bristles.
"Once more, fellows, and all together, give it to her!" Fred continued;
and the three exerted themselves to their utmost to break the door's
fastenings, or hinges, by a combination of their strength, which was
considerable.
"Listen to her squeak, would you?" called out Bristles. "Again, fellows,
for the honor of old Riverport! Together with a will!"
"Yo-heave-o!" cried Wagner, for the time being willing to be classed as
one of the Riverport crowd, since he was working hand in glove with
them.
The door cracked more than ever under this strain.
"She's giving way!" declared Bristles. "We're doing the business all
right, boys!"
"Keep moving!" called out Sid, encouragingly, and wishing one of the
workers might back out, so that he could find a chance to exercise his
muscles on the job.
One, two, three more tremendous pushes and there was a crash as the door
gave way before the united efforts of the three determined lads. Either
the rusty lock had been unable to hold out longer, or else the hinges
were in a state of complete collapse.
Indeed, so suddenly did the result occur that Bristles was unable to
keep on his feet. His support being withdrawn, he went plunging headlong
with the falling door.
"Ouch!" they heard him cry out, as he struggled there on the floor amid
a whirl of dust.
"Are you hurt?" asked Fred, anxiously; for the other had come down
pretty hard.
"N-no, not much, I guess," Bristles replied, as he began to struggle
once more to his feet, aided by Fred's ready hand; but as the breath had
been pretty well knocked out of him by the concussion, Bristles, for
once, lacked words to explain his feelings.
The balance seemed to be waiting for the dust to settle, or their
companion to get possession of his war-club again, before advancing into
the mill.
"Let me head the crowd, Fred, because I know every inch of the place,"
Sid insisted, as he pushed through the now open door.
"Wait, and let's give a call," suggested Felix. "If Colon's in here he
might be up in the loft, or down in the pit, goodness knows where. Tune
up, fellows, and see what's what!"
They all shouted together, and the result was such a medley of sounds
that it was doubtful if even their chum could have recognized familiar
voices among the lot making up the chorus.
"I heard something like a cry!" declared Sid, immediately after the echo
of their shout had died away in the empty mill.
"You're right," added Wagner, "for I caught the same thing. And, Sid, I
reckon it came from off yonder in the machinery room, where we used to
play, long ago, you remember."
"It's mighty dingy in here," complained Bristles, finding his voice
again.
Indeed, the interior of the deserted mill did look as though it might
harbor all sorts of strange things, such as bats and owls, that could
find a way in and out through broken window panes, or holes in the
siding. And Bristles, to tell the truth, although he would never have
admitted the fact to one of his chums, did secretly feel just a _little_
belief in supernatural things. A graveyard was a place nothing could
tempt him to visit after dark, at least alone.
Fred waited no longer. He had managed to get his bearings now, and
believed he could find his way about, though after coming from the
brightness of the sunshine outside, one's eyes had to get accustomed to
the half-gloom of the cob-web-festooned mill interior.
"Come on!" he simply said, as he started quickly for the door leading
out of the office into the main part of the mill.
And even while he was thus moving, he, too, caught a plain, unmistakable
movement beyond, that told of the mill being occupied by others besides
themselves. In this anxious, yet determined, frame of mind, then, Fred
Fenton led his three chums past the portal of the door, and into the
mill proper.