WHEN THE RAT SCRATCHED.
It was almost dark.
These lads were accustomed to camping out, and believed that they knew
nearly all about the many sounds likely to be heard in the woods around
that region. However, the fact that stories had been told about the old
mill being haunted gave several of them an uneasy feeling.
Since few persons ever came up here, there having been no grist in the
hopper of the mill for many years, Nature had taken back her own.
Everywhere bushes, vines, briars and weeds abounded, and the little wild
animals frisked about under the trees as though they looked upon that
spot as their especial domain.
Night birds, too, began to croak and utter their various doleful cries,
particularly a family of screech owls that called to one another with
whinnies and long-drawn loving notes.
Then there was the constant fretful murmur of the water, dripping over
the moss-covered wheel of the mill, or forcing a passage through
crevices of the dam. Taken all together, things conspired to make some
of the boys shrug their shoulders, and keep rather close to their mates
under the conviction that there is strength in union.
Besides all this they could not forget that they meant to assail a
couple of “tough nuts,” as Billy called the pair of hobo yeggmen in the
mill. This alone was sufficient to strain their courage, for they were
but boys.
Every one was pleased though, when the word came to start moving. Action
is far preferable to lying idle and suffering the pangs of anxiety and
uncertainty.
Each scout seemed to feel that he was on his mettle to do his level
best. Gusty Merrivale took pattern from the rest, and really acquitted
himself in a way to satisfy Hugh that he had the elements to make a good
member of the troop, if he still continued to cherish his present desire
to join them later on.
Soon they could catch fugitive glimpses of a faint gleam of light ahead.
Every one knew without being told that this must proceed from some dusty
window of the mill. The men inside had a fire going in place of a lamp
or a candle. They possibly did not like the cobwebbed interior of the
place any too well, and did their best to make it seem a bit more cheery
by keeping the blaze going, even after their supper had been disposed
of.
This pleased the scouts very much, for it showed them how things lay.
There was less likelihood of any slip happening when those against whom
they were opposed arranged matters so that they could be constantly
seen.
Gradually the entire squad had gained a place close beside the mill.
Those who had been picked out to accompany the leader of the Foxes had
been warned to be very careful of their footing. In order to reach the
outer shed from which they expected to attain the loft, they would be
compelled to pass over the wet and slippery apron of the dam for several
yards.
Should an unlucky scout manage to lose his footing, while crossing the
heavy planks at this point, he might take a plunge that he would never
forget. Instead of capturing the tramps, his mates would have their work
cut out for them in rescuing him from a watery grave in the deep pool
that lay below.
There was one thing on which Hugh relied to help him out. This was the
constant noise of running water which he expected would cover up any
misplay on the part of a clumsy scout.
Leading his own detachment, Hugh made his way carefully to the
broken-down door of the mill. No one of the various casual lodgers
entertained of recent years in the abandoned structure had ever made the
slightest effort to repair the door or smashed windows. All they cared
for was a fairly decent roof over their heads that would shed water in a
heavy rain.
In consequence, there was no trouble in finding an entrance to the
building. Hugh, of course, did not push in without first taking an
observation. He had learned caution as one of the first things after
joining the scouts, and he knew the folly of not looking before leaping
in the dark.
The fire was at the other end of the mill. He could see moving figures
there as though the tramps were not yet ready to settle down to sleep.
Hugh only hoped that no sudden thirst would cause one of the men to
think of starting outside while he and the eager squad at his back were
creeping stealthily toward the fire.
One by one, the boys crossed the doorsill like so many shadows. Gusty
came last of all, not that he was asked to bring up the rear, but simply
because he realized that he did not know as much about these things as
the fellows who had been practicing scout tactics for months. It was a
new departure for Gusty to admit so much even to himself, and showed the
startling change that was being effected in his once overbearing
disposition.
Now they were all inside, and so far everything had gone well. Not a
fellow had tripped, or as much as made the least sound that could have
reached the ears of the two tramps. Counting himself, Hugh had eight
fellows in his bunch; Don carried just five. Surely they ought to be
able to overwhelm the enemy by sheer force of numbers unless they
managed unfortunately to get in each other’s way. This was what Hugh
wished to avoid most of all. He had even tried to give each member of
his force a certain place in the line so as not to interfere with the
rest.
Hugh led the advance. He used his eyes to good advantage in order to
locate each and every possible source of cover, so as to profit by the
same. Trailing in his wake came the others, striving to copy every
movement made by their leader, for they knew that Hugh was a master hand
at such things.
The hoboes seemed to be taking things as easy as they possibly could.
They lay there stretched out at full length, smoking their black pipes,
and exchanging occasional words. No doubt they had canvassed their plans
for the immediate future, and had everything laid out ahead, never
dreaming that danger lay near at hand.
Gusty, coming along in the rear, found himself unaccountably moved as he
crept after one of the scouts. His initiation into some of the exciting
episodes that are likely to come the way of active members of a patrol
had been unusually thrilling. He was having the best time of his life,
and he realized that after all he had it in him right along to
participate in such delightful happenings, though never until the
present awakening to the fact.
Meanwhile Hugh, in the van, had decided just where he and his followers
must come to a halt. They could not get quite as close to the lounging
men as he would have liked. He expected the scouts in the loft to be in
a position to strike the first blow.
They were no longer moving at the pace which had marked their entrance
into the old mill. A snail could hardly have wriggled along slower than
Hugh was doing at this stage of the proceedings, so at least Bud Morgan
thought. Bud, however, had always been inclined toward haste in most
things he undertook. Therefore, he could be hardly looked upon as a good
judge.
At a previous time there had been a half-hearted attempt made to start
operations, looking to rebuilding the falling walls of the abandoned
mill. It had been given up as hopeless, but, at the same time, quite a
pile of stones had been carried into the place. By good luck it came
about that this heap was just where it could be utilized by the scouts.
Indeed, it had served them as a splendid cover more than half the time
while they were creeping forward.
Behind it they ranged, still on their hands and knees. The fire
flickered, and occasionally snapped as some brittle section of wood was
greedily seized upon by the flames. Deep and harsh sounded the voices of
the lounging tramps. Lazily the wreaths of smoke curled upward from
their pipes.
Hugh was fully awake to making his arrangements while the chance
remained. He had it fixed so that about half of his force hovered near
one end of the rock pile, while the rest waited close to the other
termination.
Some of the scouts were holding themselves in just such positions as
they would have assumed had they been entered for a fifty-yard sprint,
and at the sound of the pistol expected to fairly shoot away. They
crouched low, with their finger tips placed on the rough deal planks of
the floor of the mill.
Every fellow was wondering how Don Miller and his four climbers might be
making out. They had had ample time, it would seem, to cover the ground;
and it was to be hoped that not many more minutes would elapse before
the scratching of the imaginary rat four times would tell Hugh that all
was ready.
If ever boys were keyed up to top-notch fever, those seven were who lay
back of the friendly rock pile, and counted the passing seconds. Every
nerve in their whole bodies seemed on edge. Small sounds were terribly
magnified; and several times one or the other of them would fancy that
he had caught the eagerly expected signal from the leader of the Fox
patrol up there in the dense gloom of the loft just above where the
tramps lay on their hay.
Oh! it was cruel the way Don Miller held off! Could anything have
happened to upset his share in the general plan? Had one of his command
slipped on those mossy and slimy planks of the dam, and fallen in? Since
they had heard nothing that sounded like an alarm it did not seem
possible.
And then at last it came—one, two, three, four—plain scratches, as
though an industrious rat had set himself a gigantic task.
It was time!