going all night, then close the
door, and fasten it some way."

The flour mill was likewise built of corrugated iron. It had two iron
doors, one giving on the road, fastened with a padlock, the other on
the river side, hooked from within.

Ambrose broke open the first, and throwing back the second, allowed the
grain bags to be hustled inside direct from the beach.

He lit a lantern, and cloaking it within his coat, examined the
machine. His heart sank at the thought of his difficulties, supposing
the next step of his plan should fail.

Ambrose was enough of a machinist to appreciate the difficulty of
operating this complicated arrangement of wheels and rollers and frames
by lantern light.

Taking five velvet-footed men, he set off around the back of the store,
and across the corner of the square to the "quarters." The building so
designated was in the middle of the side of the square facing the river.

It was a low, spreading affair, of several dates of construction. Once
Gaviller's residence, it was now used to house the white employees of
the company and chance travelers.

Greer's room was in the end of the building nearest the store. The
policeman slept at the other side, separated by several partitions.

The room they were making for had a door opening directly on the yard.
It was not locked. Ambrose merely lifted the latch and walked in with
his five men at his heels.

Inside, in the thick darkness they heard the sound of deep breathing.
Ambrose flashed his light around. A typical boy's room was revealed,
with college banners, colored prints, photographs and firearms.

On a bed in the corner lay the owner, a good-looking blond boy sleeping
on his back with an arm flung above his head. He was a hearty sleeper.

Not until the command was twice repeated in no uncertain tones, did he
waken. It was to find himself looking into the blazing white eye of
the electric torch.

"What time is it?" he murmured, blinking.

One of the men chuckled.

"Time to get up," said Ambrose grimly.

"Hey, what's the matter?" cried the voice from the bed in accents of
honest alarm.

"Get up and dress," commanded Ambrose.

"What for?" stammered the boy.

"I have five armed men here," said Ambrose. "Do what you're told
without asking questions. If you make a racket you'll be cracked over
the head with the butt of a gun."

As he spoke Ambrose flashed the light from one to another of his men.
The sight of the