e I dress with such taste, and take such good care of my
complexion."

Suddenly changing his voice he demanded gruffly, "Where are the other
two chaps?"

"Why--why--how did you know there were two more?" exclaimed Ned, thrown
off his guard by the question.

Mr. Moxley smiled complacently. "I seen the canoes and the tent up
yonder along the shore. As the canoes happened to be empty I judged the
rest of the party were on behind somewhere. I just guessed at their
bein' two more of you, but it seems I hit it."

This was a very lame explanation, but the boys were too greatly worried
to notice its defects.

"I may as well tell him all," thought Ned. "Perhaps he will relent and
let us go."

Acting on this impulse he related the occurrences of the previous night,
and described the perilous situation of Clay and Nugget on the island.

"Won't you let us go and look for our companions now?" he asked. "If
the island is flooded they are in great danger."

Ned had risen in his eagerness, and now he made a step toward the door.

"Sit down!" thundered Mr. Moxley. "If you lads try to escape I'll put a
hole through you."

He lifted the gun and patted it significantly, and that instant Ned
recognized the weapon. It was Mose Hocker's property--the identical
muzzleloader which Randy had brought up from the depths of Rudy's Hole.
Ned could see the silver plate set in the breech, and could partially
read the inscription: "John Armstrong, Maker."

Randy was equally quick to recognize the gun. He gave a little gasp of
astonishment and looked at Ned.

The agitation of the boys was not observed by the ruffian.

"Just sit still now," he growled. "If you don't you'll be the worse off.
You needn't be alarmed about your friends. I reckon they'll be along
this way purty soon."

While speaking Mr. Moxley happened to glance toward the upper end of the
mill, and through a gaping crevice between the boards he saw something
that caused a sudden wave of excitement to spread over his face.

Rising quickly to his feet, he seized both boys in an iron grasp and
dragged them several yards across the floor to a big closet that
occupied the corner of the mill. He unbolted the door and shoved his
captives roughly inside.

"Don't you dare to whimper," he hissed savagely. "Mind that, my lads.
Dude Moxley ain't to be trifled with."

The ruffian slammed the door and bolted it, and the next instant his
heavy retreating footsteps shook the rotten fl