“It looks reasonable. But if we show our noses around there they’ll just chase us away.”
“There’s Lester.”
“Lester?”
“The boy we saved from drowning. We have him on our side anyway, I think. If we haven’t, he must be a very ungrateful beggar. I’d just like to ask him a few questions about this patent breakfast food yarn.”
“That’s a good idea!” cried Joe. “If he tells us any kind of story at all we can soon tell if he’s lying or not. But, somehow, I don’t think he would lie to us. He seemed to me to be a pretty decent sort of boy.”
“That’s what I thought of him too. Chances are, if these men are counterfeiters, they’re keeping him there as a prisoner. He might be only too glad to tell what he knows, if given a chance.”
“And if it turns out that those men really are scientists and that the mill is really being used for this breakfast food stunt, we won’t be making ourselves foolish by poking around and perhaps getting into all sorts of trouble for suspecting they were counterfeiters.”
Frank nodded.
“That was my idea in suggesting Lester. We have to work pretty carefully, for it wouldn’t do to start a hue-and-cry and find out that those fellows really are scientists after all. But what do you say to taking the motorcycles tomorrow morning and going up to the old mill to see if we can get to talking to the boy?”
“I’m game. Tomorrow’s Saturday. Even if the men at the mill do see us they’ll think we’re just out on a holiday outing. There’s no law against going near the old mill, even if they don’t want strangers around.”
So the arrangement was made, and the Hardy boys laid their plans for a visit to the old mill on the following day. Each felt that there was something suspicious about the place, some mystery that was not entirely nor satisfactorily solved by the breakfast food explanation. If they could only talk to Lester, who was already under obligation to them for having saved his life, they felt that they would go a long way toward verifying or dispelling their suspicions regarding the three men who were the present occupants of the mill.
XVII
What Lester Said
The Hardy boys set out for the old mill on the following morning.
They went up the shore road by motorcycle, then turned on to the deserted loop that led to the mill on the banks of the Willow River. When they came within sight of the river they left their motorcycles under some trees by the roadside, and went on their way on foot.
They had brought fishing poles and fishing tackle with them.
“We might as well enjoy ourselves while we’re on the trip,” Frank had said, in making this suggestion. “Besides, it gives us an excuse for being near the mill. There always was good fishing down by the pool near the mill race.”
They came out of the woods some distance above the mill and began to fish, working their way slowly down the river. By the time they had come within sight of the mill, Frank had caught two fish and Joe had caught one.
The mill wheel was revolving slowly and they could hear the muffled sound of machinery within the building. Down by the pool they could see a lone figure moving about.
“I believe that’s Lester!” exclaimed Joe.
“That’s who it is, all right,” agreed his brother, after a glance. “And he’s fishing, too.”
Lester was standing on the bank of the pool, a fishing rod in his hand. But he did not seem to be very enthusiastic about the sport, for there was little eagerness in his expression as he eyed the motionless float on top of the water.
Frank and Joe came slowly down the bank toward him, and he looked up at their approach. He recognized them immediately and a smile came over his face.
“Hello!” he said shyly.
“Hello, Lester,” they greeted him. “Any luck?”
“None yet,” admitted the lad. “I don’t care for fishing, anyway.”
“There’s supposed to be plenty of fish in this pool,” Frank told him.
Lester shrugged his shoulders.
“I suppose so. I’ve caught quite a few. But when you haven’t anything to do but fish all day long you don’t care for it so much.”
“Is that all you do?” asked Joe.
“That’s all. It’s mighty lonesome living at this old mill all the time.”
“Why don’t you go down to the city once in a while?”
“Uncle Dock won’t let me.”
The boy was evidently lonely and glad to see them. He sat down on the bank and forgot his fishing in his delight at being able to talk to boys of his own age.
“Do you go to school?” he asked wistfully.
The Hardy boys nodded.
“Every day?”
“Every day but Saturdays and Sundays.”
“I wish I could go to school. You fellows are lucky.”
Joe and Frank looked at one another. This was the first time they had ever met anyone who considered that they were fortunate in being able to go to school.
“I suppose we are,” admitted Frank, with a smile. “Although sometimes we don’t think so.”
“Are there lots of other fellows at the school?”
“Quite a few.”
Lester sighed.
“Gee, I wish I could go,” he said. “But Uncle Dock won’t let me go anywhere.”
“Where did you come from?” asked Frank.
“Washington. But even there I didn’t know any of the boys. Uncle Dock keeps me with him all the time. But he says we’ll be rich some day and then I can have all the friends I want.”
“What does your uncle do for a living?” inquired Joe.
“Why, he runs the mill,” answered the boy, evidently surprised by the question.
“But what does he make? Breakfast food?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know much about it. Uncle Dock never tells me anything.”
“Did he move any new machinery into the mill?” asked Frank.
“Oh, when we first came here there was a lot of
