CHAPTER XXIII
THE CALLING VOICES
Tom rubbed his eyes. He wanted to be sure he was not dreaming, orseeing a vision of his lost motorboat. And yet, as his sight cleared,he knew he could not be mistaken.
"It's her!" he cried. "It's the dear old _Tag_ all right! Jinks! butI'm in luck! Now, if none of those fellows are in her, I'll soon beaboard. And if she's in running order--"
He paused in apprehension. What if the hermit's crowd had damaged themachinery so that the craft would not run? Tom felt himself grow coldwith fear at this possibility.
"I'll soon see," he murmured, and he settled down into a long, evenstroke that quickly brought him close to the floating craft.
Now he proceeded more cautiously, for he realized that there might bea plot--an ambuscade to trap him, and make him a prisoner as were hiscompanions.
"Ahoy the _Tag_!" he shouted, but there was no answer. The boatcontinued to drift with the current of the river which made itselffelt thus far out in the lake.
"Guess there's no one home," murmured Tom. "So much the better. I'llsoon be aboard."
A few more strokes put him alongside, and a quick look into theinterior of the craft showed him that the machinery, at least, wasintact.
"Though whether she'll run or not is another question," he said aloud."Come, _Tag_," he went on, half whimsically, "be nice now, and startfor me."
He looked into the gasolene tank, and saw that he had enough for a runof several miles, enough to get to the old mill, and back across thelake to camp again.
"That is, if I get the boys," he mused; "I shan't leave without themthis time," and he shut his teeth grimly. Testing the batteries, hefound that the vibration from the coil was strong, and he took out aspark plug to note the current. It jumped blue and spitefully frompoint to point, when he laid the plug on a cylinder head, and turnedthe flywheel to make the contact.
"So far so good," murmured Tom. "Now to see if she'll start. Probablybecause everything is all right she won't, but she ought to. Oh, ifonly motorboats would do as they ought to!"
The first turn of the flywheel resulted in a sort of surprised cough.The next gave forth a sneeze, as if the engine had just awakened.
Then came a vigorous "chug!" at the third turn.
"Come, we're getting on!" exclaimed Tom with a laugh--his first goodone since the disappearance of his chums and the boat. "As soon as shefinds out I'm in her, instead of the old hermit and his crowd, I thinkshe'll behave herself."
Tom's prophecy proved correct, for with the next turn of the flywheelthe boat started off as if she had never had an intention of doinganything else.
"Hurray!" cried Tom. "Now for the mill and the boys. But I guess I'dbetter throttle down, for she's making too much noise. No use giving mygame away in advance."
He cut down the gas at the carburetor, and proceeded at half speed,meanwhile wondering what he would do when he got to the mill, andpuzzling his brains as to how his enemies had allowed the boat to getout of their possession.
"I'll have a peep at the bow line," he murmured, and when he looked atthe end of it he uttered an exclamation. It was frayed and worn. "Thataccounts for it," he went on. "They tied the boat where the line couldcut and chafe against a rock, and she worked herself loose. Good old_Tag_! I guess she knew I wanted her."
Tom actually patted the engine of his craft, as though it was a thingalive. He headed in toward the river, towing the skiff behind him. Heintended to return the small craft to the place whence he and his chumshad taken it, after the affair was all over.
"Though we may need it in the meanwhile," he said. "And there is no useletting it fall into our enemies' hands right away. They might use itagainst us."
Reaching the mouth of the river, Tom slowed down his power still more,so as to make less noise, for he could not tell what minute the hermit,or some of those with him, might set out in search of the missing boat.
"And I don't want them to take me unawares," he said grimly.
He decided that he would do as had been done on a previous occasion--hidehis boat some distance from the mill, and proceed the rest of the way onfoot. He took particular pains to hide his craft this time, selecting aplace where an eddy from the stream had followed out a miniature bay inthe bank. It was well screened by overhanging bushes and trees, and asthere were several others like it along the river, it would take a goodguesser to pick out this particular one at first.
Tom marked the place so he would know it himself, even if he camepast in a hurry, and then, having arranged the bushes so as to furtherscreen his boat, and gathering up his package of food, the small axe,the blanket, and his light, he set out.
It was nervous work, for he realized that because of the loss of theboat a searching party might be out looking for it.
"But they're likely to stick to the river," he argued, "and if I strikeinland a bit, and go that way, they're not so apt to find me. I'll doit."
He had to pass near the cave where they had spent the night the timethey first missed the boat, and he looked inside the cavern. To hissurprise it showed signs of occupancy since he and his chums had beenthere.
"They have been here," he argued. "Or maybe it was the hermit, whospent a night here, instead of in the mill."
There were signs that a fire had been recently made, and food cooked,and there were portions of the latter scattered about. Tom, however,did not stay long there. It was getting on toward noon, and he had muchbefore him.
On the top of the bank, overlooking the river, he found an old trail,which he followed. It was narrow, showing that probably only one manhad traveled it in recent years.
"The old hermit," mused Tom. "This is one of his paths. It must leadright to the mill, and it'll take me there as well as if I had gonealong the river, and a deal safer, too."
He walked briskly until he judged that he was close to the ancientstructure, and then he proceeded more cautiously. As he came in sightof it he crouched behind the bushes, fairly crawling on until he had agood view.
His first glimpse was at the window where he had seen the sentinelstand with a gun, and to his surprise and disappointment, he now sawthe sun glinting on the barrel of a weapon.
"Pshaw!" exclaimed Tom. "No chance of taking them by surprise. And theyaren't out, as I half-hoped they'd be. They are still on guard. I'vegot to wait."
He sat down under a bush and ate some of the lunch he had brought,sipping water from a bottle he had in his bundle. Then, after a halfhour, he looked again. The gun was still pointed out of the window,seeming to be aimed at whoever should advance directly against the mill.
"Still there," mused Tom angrily. "They are taking no chances."Intently from his screened post of observation, he watched the gunbarrel. Then a strange thought came to him--a thought that sent theblood tingling through him.
"Of course!" he cried to himself. "Why didn't I think of it before? Nowto see if I'm right."
Boldly he stood up, in plain view of anyone from the window. The gundid not move to follow his action. It remained pointing in the samedirection.
"That's it!" he exulted. "The gun is just fixed there! No one isholding it. It's just like the trick once played in some battle. It's adummy gun. Hurray! I'm all right now. They have gone out, and left thegun pointing from the window to scare anyone who might come along."
Still Tom did not abandon all caution. He realized that though thoseguarding his chums might be gone from the top story, they still mightbe somewhere in the mill.
"I've got to be careful," our hero assured himself. "But I'll take afew chances."
Approaching until he stood close under the open window from which thegun protruded, he tossed a stone up. It fell within the casement, andTom heard it drop on the floor.
"That ought to raise something," he said, looking warily around to seeif he was observed. There was no movement, and no one appeared.
"Here goes for another," said our hero. This time his stone hit thegun barrel, and it tinkled resoundingly. But
it was not moved, provingconclusively that it was fastened there and not held by hands.
"If I could only get Jack or some of the others to answer," thoughtTom. "I guess I'll have to get inside and let 'em know I'm here. Buthow?"
It was quite a puzzle. He knew he could not get to the third story frominside the mill, or at least he did not know the secret of the hiddenstaircase.
"I haven't time to hunt for a trick door," he told himself. "I've gotto find a way that's plain to be seen. And I don't want to go insideunless I have to, either, for if they are hiding and playing some trickthey'll nab me sure."
This thought made him look around apprehensively, and he decided tomake a circuit of the mill from without, in order to make sure therewas no one on the outside.
He moved away from in front, and went to one side, the place where, onthe plans, the secret staircase in the thick wall was shown to be. Theground sloped away on this side, and as Tom came opposite a pile ofstones, he was startled and surprised to hear a voice saying:
"Oh, if only Tom would come!"
"Yes, I don't see why he doesn't," another voice answered.
"Maybe they have him, too," spoke a third person.
Tom stood as if electrified.
"My chums!" he murmured. "Their voices! But where do the sounds comefrom?" He looked around to find the source of the hidden tones, but hecould see nothing.