Because each of them had failed to discover that upon which he had set his mind he failed to see anything else.
Not so Elmer, who carried out the principle which he was forever holding up before the others as a cardinal virtue which should govern a true scout always.
He noted a number of things that the other two might have passed by, simply because they refused to let their minds work outside of a certain groove.
A frown came upon Elmer's face also, as though he did not wholly like the looks of things.
"Well, he ain't here, that's sure," remarked Lil Artha, shrugging his shoulders in disgust.
"He certainly isn't," muttered Chatz, who, however, was thinking of an entirely different object than the one the tall boy referred to.
"Suppose we give him a shout, and see if there's any result?" suggested Lil Artha.
"Do so, if you like," replied Elmer, in a tone that did not seem to promise much faith in the outcome of this plan.
So the tall boy raised his voice and shouted in his loudest key. A few stray bats that had taken up lodgings in various dark corners of the four rooms went flapping through a broken sash. But beyond that nothing came to pass.
"This sure beats the Dutch," remarked Lil Artha, using his bandana again to wipe off the perspiration that had gathered in beads upon his forehead.
Elmer was looking around again.
"Wonder if there can be a cellar under here?" he remarked, presently.
"I should say yes," replied the tall boy.
"Then there ought to be a trapdoor in the floor somewhere about. Look around and see if you can find it, boys," Elmer continued, himself stepping into the kitchen.
Chatz and the tall boy had hardly gotten well started in their search than they heard Elmer calling.
"He's found it, sure!" observed the Southern lad.
"The luckiest chap ever, take that from me," declared Lil Artha, and then adding hastily: "but then, he always deserves his luck, because he works for it."
Although he did not exactly mean to do so, the one who said that expressed one of the greatest truths known. Deserve good luck, and it will many times knock at your door. Do things worth while, and obtain pleasing results.
Of course they hastened into the kitchen. Here they found Elmer bending over and examining the floor.
"It's a trapdoor, all right," declared Lil Artha, as he noted the dimensions of the cracks that formed an almost perfect square.
"But how to get it up's the question," said Elmer; "for there seems to be no ring in sight. All the same, boys, I reckon this same trap has been used more than a few times lately, from the looks of things."
"Whew! do you really mean it, Elmer?" remarked Chatz, deeply interested.
"Why, you can see for yourself right here that some sort of tool has been used to pry up the thing," Elmer went on.
"Say, I had a glimpse of an old broken kitchen knife lying over there by the sink. Wonder if that would do the trick? Shall I get it?" remarked Lil Artha.
"If you will," replied Elmer.
The article in question was speedily placed in the hands of the scout master.
"Just the very thing to lift this trap with," he declared, as he started to insert the stout remnant of the blade in the crack.
"Reckon it's been used to do the trick many a time," advanced Chatz.
"I wouldn't wonder," Elmer added.
Using the broken blade as a lever he soon pried the trap up far enough to allow the others a chance to insert their ready fingers. After that it was easily completed, and the square of wooden flooring removed.
"Dark as Egypt," remarked Lil Artha, as he tried to pierce the gloom with his gaze.
Elmer made a move, and Chatz, thinking he intended descending the ladder that led down into the unknown depths, caught his arm.
"I wouldn't do it, Elmer," he said.
"Do what?" asked the other.
"Go down there," continued Chatz. "No telling how deep it may be or what lies there, either. If anybody must go, send me."
"Well," laughed Elmer, "I like your nerve, Chatz. You think something might hurt me, but you don't care so much for yourself. That's like you Southern fellows, though. But make your mind easy, my boy, because just at present I don't think any of us need drop into this hole."
"I'm glad of that," declared the other; "but when you made a move I thought you were going."
"Oh, I only meant to get out my newspaper again, and make another little candle," said Elmer, with a chuckle.
"Well, say what you will, boys," remarked Lil Artha, who had been thrusting his head below the level of the floor and sniffing at a great rate; "I'm glad, too, that we don't just have to drop down this ladder. It's cold and damp down there, and I tell you I don't like the smell."
"There is a queer odor comes up, now that you mention it," admitted Elmer.
At that the eyes of Chatz grew round with wonder and suspense.
"Oh, I hope you don't think—" he began, when Elmer interrupted him.
"Kind of fishy smell, don't you think?" he said.
"Well, since you speak of it I rather guess it is something like that," Lil Artha admitted.
Then Chatz breathed easy again.
"But how could fish ever get in here from the mill pond?" he demanded.
"Give it up; I pass. Ask me something easy," the tall scout hastened to say.
Meanwhile Elmer had, as before, taken a section of the newspaper, crumpled it into a ball, and after that drew out his match box.
"Guess it's safe to drop this down," he remarked. "It seems so damp there can really be no danger of anything taking fire."
"Sure there couldn't," asserted Lil Artha, sturdily. "Let her go, Elmer; and everybody look."
The match crackled, and the resulting flame was instantly applied to the paper ball.
Then Elmer let this drop, after he had made sure it would burn.
Three pairs of very good eyes immediately started in to take a complete inventory of the contents of the little damp cellar under the deserted mill cottage.
For perhaps a full minute the paper ball continued to burn, lighting up the cellar well enough for them to see from wall to wall.
Then the flame dwindled, flickered, and finally went out altogether. Chatz gave a big sigh.
"Well, I declare!" he exclaimed.
"What did you see, Chatz?" asked Elmer.
"Who, me?" exclaimed the Southern boy. "Nothing at all, Elmer," and his manner told plainly that he was both disappointed and disgusted.
"How about you, Arthur?" continued the acting scout master.
"What did I see?" Lil Artha replied, promptly; "four damp-looking stone walls, a hard earth floor, and a few old boxes lying around, but not another blessed thing."
Something about Elmer's manner caught his attention and aroused his suspicions.
"See here, did you discover anything?" he demanded.
"Well," replied Elmer, "I can't say that the evidence is so plain a fellow who runs may read; but from a number of things I've seen since coming here to the Munsey mill pond I've about made up my mind this place isn't quite as deserted as people seem to believe."
"Do you mean, Elmer," cried Lil Artha, excitedly, "that tramps or some more yeggmen, like those fellows we met with up at McGraw's lumber camp, have squatted here in this haunted house?"
"Something like that," replied the other, steadily, "though I don't believe they dare spend a night under this roof. There's no sign of that."
"But what would they kidnap our chum for?" demanded the excited tall scout.
"I don't know for certain, but we're going to find out pretty soon," said Elmer, with a determined look.
* * *
CHAPTER VI.
HUNTING FOR THE MISSING SCOUT.
"Honest, now, Elmer, do you really believe that?" asked Chatz Maxfield, after staring at the scout master in a puzzled manner for half a dozen seconds.
"It looks so, on the face of it," replied the
other.
"But plague take it," argued Chatz, "for the life of me I just can't understand, suh, what those fellows would want to make a prisoner of poor Nat for. In all our troop he's about the most harmless scout, except perhaps Jasper Merriweather. Nat is strong as an ox, but he wouldn't hurt a fly if he could help it."
"That's so," echoed Lil Artha. "I've seen him walk around so as not to step on a harmless little snake on the road. And it wasn't because he was afraid of snakes, either. Remember he killed that fierce big copperhead last summer, after the other fellows had skipped out?"
"There's one chance, though," Elmer went on, "that after all Nat may be hiding."
"But he knows the sound of the bugle, and what penalty follows disobedience on the part of a scout," declared Lil Artha.
"That's true enough, fellows," Elmer said, as if he himself might be trying to see through a haze; "but perhaps Nat finds himself in a position where he can't answer us without betraying himself to these unknown men."
Again did Chatz and the tall scout look at each other helplessly. And judging from the way they shook their heads, the puzzle was evidently too deep for them.
"Say, Elmer, you manage to get on to these things in a way to beat the band; could you give a guess now about how many men there are holding out around this old haunted mill?"
Lil Artha asked this in good faith. He had come to believe, with most of his comrades, that Elmer Chenowith was next door to a wizard. Of course they realized that his knowledge was at all times founded on facts and common sense; yet this did not detract from the wonder of his accomplishments.
"I think there are three at least, perhaps four or five in the lot," Elmer replied.
"Whew! that's a healthy crowd of toughs, now, to run up against!" remarked Lil Artha.
"And what do you propose doing, suh, if I may make so bold as to ask?"
Chatz was usually a very dignified fellow, especially when coming in contact with one who, according to recognized scout law, must be considered his superior officer, and as such entitled to respect.
"First of all, perhaps we'd better go outside," the other replied.
"And tell the rest of the boys what we've found—or rather what we didn't find," remarked Lil Artha.
"Yes. There doesn't seem to be anything more to poke into here; for I'm dead certain those men, whoever they are, don't make their headquarters in either the mill or the cottage."
"You mean they don't sleep here; is that it, suh?" inquired Chatz.
"That covers the ground," Elmer answered.
"But they do come in here sometimes, while the sun is shining," persisted Chatz.
"I have seen the marks of many heavy hobnailed shoes in the dust of this place; and some of the prints were very fresh," came the answer.
"Then if they're wanting in the nerve to sleep under this roof, when it would be so handy, in a thunderstorm like we had the other day, for instance, that looks as if they believed some in the ghost story, don't it, Elmer?"
"Why, I suppose it does, Chatz."
"All right. I'm not saying anything more," remarked the Southern boy, with a look of conviction on his dark face, "but I only hope we run across one or more of these mysterious unknowns while we're up at Munsey's mill."
"Listen to that, would you, Elmer! I declare if he don't mean to interview these fellows, and find out what they've gone and seen here in the night time!" and Lil Artha chuckled as he said this.
"All right," remarked Chatz. "There are a lot of things I've always wanted to know, and I'd be a silly to let the chance slip past me."
"Hey, how about this bally old trapdoor, Elmer?" demanded Lil Artha.
"We'd better put it back where it belongs," replied the scout leader.
"I reckon you're right, suh," observed Chatz. "If some one came in here, walking in the dark, he might take a nasty header down this hole."
"Say, supposing your ghost did that," remarked the tall scout, as he helped lift the wooden square back to where it belonged; "why, you could do better than asking questions of an outsider, because, Chatz, you might interview your old ghost himself."
The other drew himself up.
"Kindly omit calling it my ghost, if you please, suh," he said, stiffly. "I don't pretend to have any claim on the object in question—if there really is such a thing. I'm only wanting to know; and I come from South Carolina, suh, not Missouri."
Elmer, after one last glance around the kitchen, was heading for the other room where an exit could be made.
And it was almost ludicrous to see with what haste the other two followed after; just as if neither of them cared to be left alone inside the walls of the haunted mill cottage.
Once outside, they found several of their comrades clustered near by, evidently awaiting them. That curiosity was rapidly reaching fever heat it was easy to see from the anxious looks cast upon those who had been investigating the interior of the buildings.
No doubt every fellow had meanwhile been industriously engaged in ransacking his brain to remember all he had ever heard concerning Munsey's mill, and the troublesome spirit that had frightened away three separate tenants in years gone by.
They were rather a demoralized trio of boys who welcomed the coming of Elmer, Chatz, and Lil Artha.
"Find any signs of Nat?" asked one.
"Hope the plagued old ghost didn't get him," another ventured.
"Tell us all about it, Elmer?" asked the third member of the little bunch.
But the scout leader instead raised the bugle to his lips and sounded the assembly call.
Voices were heard, and immediately the others came hurrying to the spot. Landy was the last to arrive, and he came up puffing and blowing as though he might have been at some little distance when he heard the summons for gathering.
"Listen!" said Elmer, raising his hand, and immediately the confused chattering of many boyish tongues ceased.
This enabled them to hear distant shouts from the southeast, as though newcomers might be approaching the mill over about the same course as that they had pursued.
"Mark Cummings and the last detachment!" declared Matty.
"Hurrah! six more good fellows to do battle with the outlaws of the haunted mill!" exclaimed Red; at which some of the others gasped in astonishment, and exchanged uneasy glances.
"Better wait till they all get here, boys," said Elmer, "and then I'll tell you what we've found out, also what we suspect."
Chatz and Lil Artha could not but notice how particular Elmer was to use the plural pronoun. But then, that was always his way. Whatever faults the boy may have had—and the best of fellows comes far from being perfect—selfishness was not one of them. Impatiently they waited for the coming of the six scouts forming the last detachment. This would increase their roll-call to sixteen, lacking only one of the number that had started out.
Presently a sight of khaki uniforms among the trees announced their near approach.
As the two wings of the Hickory Ridge Troop of Boy Scouts came together, there was a general exchange of badinage.
The newcomers had an intense desire to learn whether their interpretation of the messages might excel that of the first detachment.
But in the midst of the questioning, the startling news concerning Nat Scott's mysterious vanishing began to circulate among the newcomers.
This put a quietus on all business, and the entire troop clustered around Elmer, begging to know what it could mean.
So the scout master, understanding just how his comrades must feel, started in to explain, as far as lay in his power.
First of all, for the benefit of the newcomers, he told of how Nat's disappearance was brought to his attention by Toby and Ty, just before the coming of Matty and his group of scouts.
Then he quickly related what he and Chatz and Lil Artha had done in the deserted buildings close by.
Presently the story was finished, and some of the boys, who had listened with hearts beating much faster than their wont, took the
first decent breath in five minutes.
Of course questions poured in on Elmer as thick as hail stones during a summer storm. Finding it utterly impossible to answer a quarter of these intelligently, and make any kind of progress, Elmer called for silence.
"It stands to reason, fellows," he remarked, when the last whisper had died away, "that we've got to have system about this thing if we expect to do any business. Am I right?"
"Yes, yes," came from every scout; for boys though they were, they recognized the wisdom of what he said.
"All right, then," Elmer went on. "I'm going to divide the troop into three searching parties. We must scour the neighborhood and see if we can find any sign of where these unknown men sleep, for there isn't any trace of their staying in cottage or mill at night time."
"We understand what you mean, Elmer. How shall we divide up?" asked Mark.
"You keep your detachment as it was, intact, Mark," came the reply; "and Matty, you have your six to back you. Lil Artha, Toby, and Ty will fall in with me, and make the third party."
"All right, suh, we understand," called out Chatz.
But he, as well as many others of the boys, showed in their faces that they envied the good luck of the three fellows who had been picked out to form Elmer's smaller group.
"What are our duties to be?" asked Mark, who, having only recently arrived, and being staggered by the sudden nature of the intelligence, had as yet not fully grasped the situation.
"First of all, let every scout who has not already done so, pick up a stout club in the woods, as he passes along," said Elmer.
"Like this, for instance," remarked Jack Armitage, flourishing a husky specimen that would pass muster for an Irishman's shillalah.
"Or this!" cried Red, whose cudgel was as long as a walking stick, and almost as thick through as his wrist.
"Suit yourselves about that, boys," continued the scout master, "only don't be in a hurry to use them as weapons until you have the order. Now, each detachment must keep close enough together so that the members may communicate by means of patrol calls—the cry of the wolf, the slap of a beaver's tail as he beats the water to call his mate, or the scream of the eagle."
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