for
once, lacked words to explain his feelings.

The balance seemed to be waiting for the dust to settle, or their
companion to get possession of his war-club again, before advancing into
the mill.

"Let me head the crowd, Fred, because I know every inch of the place,"
Sid insisted, as he pushed through the now open door.

"Wait, and let's give a call," suggested Felix. "If Colon's in here he
might be up in the loft, or down in the pit, goodness knows where. Tune
up, fellows, and see what's what!"

They all shouted together, and the result was such a medley of sounds
that it was doubtful if even their chum could have recognized familiar
voices among the lot making up the chorus.

"I heard something like a cry!" declared Sid, immediately after the echo
of their shout had died away in the empty mill.

"You're right," added Wagner, "for I caught the same thing. And, Sid, I
reckon it came from off yonder in the machinery room, where we used to
play, long ago, you remember."

"It's mighty dingy in here," complained Bristles, finding his voice
again.

Indeed, the interior of the deserted mill did look as though it might
harbor all sorts of strange things, such as bats and owls, that could
find a way in and out through broken window panes, or holes in the
siding. And Bristles, to tell the truth, although he would never have
admitted the fact to one of his chums, did secretly feel just a _little_
belief in supernatural things. A graveyard was a place nothing could
tempt him to visit after dark, at least alone.

Fred waited no longer. He had managed to get his bearings now, and
believed he could find his way about, though after coming from the
brightness of the sunshine outside, one's eyes had to get accustomed to
the half-gloom of the cob-web-festooned mill interior.

"Come on!" he simply said, as he started quickly for the door leading
out of the office into the main part of the mill.

And even while he was thus moving, he, too, caught a plain, unmistakable
movement beyond, that told of the mill being occupied by others besides
themselves. In this anxious, yet determined, frame of mind, then, Fred
Fenton led his three chums past the portal of the door, and into the
mill proper.

CHAPTER XIII

HOW GABE MADE GOOD

"Good gracious!" Sid Wells called out

The boys had pushed into the main part of the mill, with their nerves
all on edge, and their muscles set in readiness for a struggle. Whether
they wou