spered
hoarsely. "The nearest rafter is a foot below. Let me have the coat. It
will be safer than trusting to your hands. I might drag you down with
me."

The three boys braced themselves around the hole, and took a firm grasp
of the upper part of the coat.

"All right," whispered Randy.

By a dexterous movement Ned transferred his hold from the planking to
the more precarious support and slipped downward, hand over hand. An
instant later his feet touched a broad, solid beam.

CHAPTER XXIV

AN UNEXPECTED ENCOUNTER

The instant the tension relaxed the boys drew the coat up.

"All right!" came Ned's voice from the darkness. "Put the plank back in
place now and keep very quiet. Wait a moment," he added quickly.
"Something just occurred to me. I may be right and I may be wrong, but
at all events don't you fellows be scared if you hear a big splash."

"We won't," whispered Randy.

Then the plank was dropped noiselessly over the hole.

Ned straddled the rafter--it was too dark to risk an upright
position--and made his way to the nearest end, which terminated in one
of the walls of masonry that formed the sides of the sluiceway, and on
which the mill partially rested. Then he turned around and crept to the
other end, where he found the same state of affairs.

His fears were now confirmed. The mill rose fairly from the two stone
walls, and there was no way of escaping overhead, even had the other
rafters been within reach. His only chance lay in the flooded waterway
underneath.

Ned had more than half expected this, and was therefore prepared for the
emergency. Without hesitation he swung from the rafter and dropped
through eight feet of space into the turbid flood.

He went clear under, but came to the surface quickly, and swam with
vigorous strokes down the wasteway. Both the air and the water were
warm, and he felt little discomfort.

Between the reflex current from the creek on top, and the undertow from
the sluiceway beneath, he was buffeted about considerably before he
succeeded in emerging on the spit of land between the mill and the
creek. He squeezed the water from his clothes as well as he could, and
started up the slope through the stones and bushes. A misty drizzle of
rain was still falling.

He redoubled his caution as he neared the upper end of the mill.
Creeping on hands and knees to the door, he peeped cautiously over the
threshold. He was hardly prepared for what met his gaze.

He