So for the rest of the evening the boys were conspicuously studious. They were occupied with their books until twilight fell, after which Frank yawned and murmured that he would like a breath of fresh air.
“Think I’ll go out for a little spin on the motorcycle,” he said casually.
“I’ll go with you,” observed Joe promptly.
Fenton Hardy looked up.
“Yes, you’ve been in the house all evening. Go ahead.”
“Don’t be long,” advised Mrs. Hardy.
“We won’t be any longer than we can help,” said Frank mysteriously.
With that, the Hardy boys left the house and went out to the garage for their motorcycles.
They drove around the streets of Bayport for some time until at last it grew darker. Then they headed their machines out toward the shore road. The moon was just rising over the bay when they left the city, and they drove at good speed into the country.
“Now to tackle the old mill!” exclaimed Frank.
XXI
At the Mill
The two boys made good time out into the country and when at last they reached the abandoned road that led down to Willow River it was not quite ten o’clock. As they rode they discussed their plan of action and it was agreed that they should leave the motorcycles beside the road at the same place they had left them on the occasion of their previous visit to the mill.
“I’d like to have them closer to the river,” said Frank, “for we might have to clear out of there in a hurry. But we can’t afford to let them hear us coming.”
“And it’s a calm night. They could hear a motorcycle for half a mile,” opined his brother.
They left the machines in the shade of some trees by the roadside and went the rest of the way on foot. They could see quite clearly, for the moon had risen higher and the grey ribbon of road extended before them.
“I wish it had been a bit darker,” Joe said. “We’ll have to be careful when we get near the place.”
“They may have someone posted on guard. Oh, well, we can look the place over when we get there.”
At last they emerged on the hilltop that overlooked Willow River.
Below them lay the stream, with water shining in the moonlight. The deep banks of willow trees along the borders cast heavy shadows, and a light mist overhung the fields and hedges in the distance.
Gloomy and mysterious, the heavy bulk of the old mill rose from beside the river, near the shimmering silver streak of the mill race. Not a light shone from the building and it appeared absolutely deserted.
“Perhaps they’ve all moved away,” suggested Joe.
“I noticed that the buildings were all boarded up when we were here last time. They haven’t moved away, never fear.”
Cautiously, the boys went down the slope.
They left the road and kept to the shadows of the trees, skirting the open space of meadow that lay between the grove and the mill itself. They did not speak, for the night was so calm and clear that sound carried for a considerable distance. They could hear the dull roar of the rapids and the waterfall, sounding hollow and lonely in the moonlit night.
They came to the edge of the grove and moved slowly about in the deep shadows, the grass sinking beneath their feet. When they had reached a point about two hundred feet from the mill they paused to reconnoitre.
“We’ve got to cross that open space,” whispered Frank.
“And what then?”
“See that willow tree beside the mill?”
Joe nodded.
“It reaches right to the roof. It looks to be our best bet. If we can climb that tree and drop to the roof or get in a window we’ll be all right.”
“As long as we can get up the tree without being heard.”
“We have to take our chances on that,” Frank said, in a low voice. “I think it’s going to be harder to cross that open space.”
For two hundred feet the grassy sward was bathed in moonlight. They could not walk across it without being in full view of anyone who might be watching from the mill. But it had to be crossed as the mill itself was isolated on the bank of the river and on this side there was no protecting shade to enable them to creep up closer.
“We’ll have to crawl across the grass,” Frank whispered. “Ready?”
“I’m ready.”
“Go easy and quiet. If you hear a sound, don’t move.”
They dropped to their hands and knees, then left the shadow of the wood. They began to crawl slowly toward the willow tree at the rear of the mill.
Inch by inch they made their way forward.
The moon was high in the sky and seemed like a giant searchlight. It seemed impossible that they could cross that open space without being discovered. Every blade of grass seemed clearly revealed by the moonlight.
When they were about halfway toward the mill they heard a sound in the distance.
It was the banging of a heavy door.
There was a warning whisper from Frank. They lay motionless in the thick grass.
For a moment a deep silence prevailed. Then, from the mill, they heard a surly voice:
“I saw someone out on the hillside.”
They were startled. But still they did not move. Their only hope of safety lay in silence and in remaining motionless.
“You’re crazy, Markel,” replied someone. “There’s no one out there.”
“I tell you I saw someone crawling down through the grass. I’m sure of it. I saw him from that upper window.”
“Whereabouts?”
“Out there—see? Can’t you see something dark up there?”
There was silence for a moment or so. Then the second man laughed.
“It’s only a log.”
“I tell you, it isn’t a log. A log doesn’t move.”
“That isn’t moving.”
“It was.”
“Well, if you’re so sure of it, why don’t you go on up and see? You’re getting so nervous lately that you think people are hanging around here all the time.”
“I’ve got a right to be nervous. We’re not safe here, I tell you.
