of the resined rope through a hole in the bottom
of the upturned wash-boiler, and knotted it so it would not pull out
again.

"Now where's the fiddle-bow, John?" he asked.

John Ellison forthwith produced a long bent bow of alder, strung with
pieces of tied horse-hair.

"Listen," said Henry Burns; and he drew the bow gently across the
resined rope. The sound that issued forth--the combined agony of the
vibrating wash-boiler and the shrill squeak of the rope--was one hardly
to be described. It was like a wail of some unworldly creature, ending
with a shuddering twang that grated even on the nerves of Henry Burns's
companions. Then Henry Burns laid the bow aside and was ready for the
search.

"That sounds nice on Fourth of July night," he remarked, "but not in
here. Let's see what we can find, John."

They lighted two more lanterns that they had brought and began their
search. Strangely enough, however, the possibilities that had seemed so
real to John Ellison, as he had gazed day by day upon the old mill he
knew so well, seemed to vanish now that he was within. He had thought
of a hundred and one odd corners where he would search; but now they
offered obviously so little chance of secreting anything that he felt
his hopes begin to wane.

Still, they went at it earnestly and thoroughly. Through the garret,
with their lanterns lighted, they hunted; lifting aside boxes and
barrels; opening dingy closets; peering into long unused bins. Hoppers
that had been once a part of the mill's equipment, but which had been
displaced by others, were carefully examined; even the rafters overhead
were scrutinized, lest some overlooked box might be found hidden
thereon.

They went to the floor below, where the great grinding stones were; and
where a tangle of belting and shaftings half filled one room. There were
hiding places a-plenty here; but not one of them yielded anything. Then,
on the main floor, where there was a great safe hidden in one corner,
and the desk. Here they were on forbidden ground. The property was
clearly Witham's, and they would not touch that. They could only search
about the nooks and corners, and sound the boards for secret
hiding-places.

So on, up and down, in and out; even through the outer room of the mill,
where all was rough and unfinished, and only a plank thrown across here
and there to walk on. There were places enough where a box or package
might be hidden--but where nothing was.

Yet they c