e on it
and let them have one measure of toll out of it. So there was two quarts
of loss or gain, whichever party was in error.

When the last bagful was nearly ground and the hopper empty, all save a
pint or so, Jock and George ran to shut the gate and stop the mill.

"Hold on!" cried Addison. "That isn't fair. There's two quarts in the
stones yet; we shall lose all that on top of toll."

"But we must shut down before the corn is all through the stones!" cried
Jock, "or they'll get to running fast and grind themselves. 'Twon't do
to let them get to running fast, with no corn in."

"Well, don't be in such haste about it," urged Addison. "Wait a bit till
our grist is nearer out."

They waited a few moments, but were very uneasy about the stones, and
soon after the last kernels of corn had disappeared from the hopper,
they pulled the ash pin to let the gate fall. It was then discovered
that from some cause the gate would not drop. The boys thumped and
rattled it. But the water still poured down on the wheel. By this time
the meal had run nearly all out of the millstones and they revolved more
rapidly. The young millers were now a good deal alarmed, and, running
out, climbed up the dam and looked into the flume, to see what was the
matter with their gate.

"It's an old shingle-bolt!" shouted Jock, "that's floated down the pond!
It's got sucked in under the gate and holds it up! Fetch the pike-pole,
George!"

George ran to get the pike-pole; and for some moments they tried to
push, or pull, the block out. But it was wedged fast and the in-draught
of the water held it firmly in the aperture beneath the gate. It was
impossible to reach it with anything save the pike-pole, for the water
in the flume over it was four or five feet deep.

Meantime the old mill was running amuck inside. The water-wheel was
turning swiftly and the millstone was whirling like a buzz saw. After
every few seconds we could hear it graze down against the nether stone
with an ugly sound; and then there would fly up a powerful odor of
ozone.

Jock and George, finding that they could not shut the gate, came
rushing into the mill again in still greater excitement.

"The stones'll be spoilt!" Jock exclaimed. "We must get them to grinding
something."

He ran to the little bin of about a bushel of corn where the old miller
kept his toll and where they had put the toll from our bags. This was
hurriedly flung into the hopper and came through into t