Without another word, he turned and led the way, careful of the betraying snap of twigs, along the shore, toward the mill. Even in that moment of tense excitement, the girls and boys looked at his suddenly stiffened back in surprise. It was the first time since he had come ashore that morning, that his comrades had been able to discover anything of the old Will. However, they had little time for the solving of riddles. There was work to be done, work, which in these stirring times, might perhaps help to make history. As they neared the mill, Will motioned to them to stay where they were, and ran ahead to intercept a guard. A moment later he returned with the latter, and the whole party made its way hurriedly and stealthily in a roundabout direction, which would almost certainly intercept the spy--if spy he were. "Oh, Betty," whispered Grace, close to the Little Captain's ear. "I've always been horribly afraid of spies. Do you suppose he's got a gun?" "I never heard of a spy that didn't," returned Betty grimly. "But don't worry--we have one, too." "Better not talk," warned Roy, close at their side. "A whisper may mean a bullet." Grace almost screamed, but Betty's firm little hand across her mouth smothered it into something between a sob and a squeak. "Hush," whispered Betty fiercely. "You'll spoil everything." At that moment, the sharp crack of a twig somewhere to the left of them in the woods, made them stop suddenly and stand motionless, listening. Then with a shout, Will rushed forward, followed by the other boys and the home guard man. "Hands up!" shouted the latter, leveling his pistol at something that moved among the bushes. "Stand where you are." Like a flash of lightning the man wriggled out from his cover, and made a dash for liberty. With a yell, the guard ran forward, firing as he went, with the boys close at his heels. "Oh, oh, they'll get shot!" wailed Amy, her hands before her face. "I don't see why we couldn't have left the old thing alone, anyway." "That's a nice thing to say!" cried Mollie, trembling with excitement. "Is that your idea of patriotism, to let a spy get away right under our very noses?" "It's a good deal better than having the boys shot right under our very noses," retorted Amy with spirit. "We'll be lucky if we don't get shot ourselves," said Grace, almost in hysterics. "Oh, there goes another one. I wonder who got shot that time." "Let's go and see," said Betty, pale, but determined, "It isn't like us to stand in the background, when there may be something to do." "But, Betty," wailed Amy, "we may get shot." "Well, then, we shall," cried Betty, turning upon her fiercely. "That may have been the spy that was shot, or it may be one of our boys. Are we going to stay here, or are we going to find out?" "I--I'm sorry, Betty," quavered poor Amy. "Of course, we'll go."