John Ellison forthwith produced a long bent bow of alder, strung with pieces of tied horse-hair. "Listen," said Henry Burns; and he drew the bow gently across the resined rope. The sound that issued forth--the combined agony of the vibrating wash-boiler and the shrill squeak of the rope--was one hardly to be described. It was like a wail of some unworldly creature, ending with a shuddering twang that grated even on the nerves of Henry Burns's companions. Then Henry Burns laid the bow aside and was ready for the search. "That sounds nice on Fourth of July night," he remarked, "but not in here. Let's see what we can find, John." They lighted two more lanterns that they had brought and began their search. Strangely enough, however, the possibilities that had seemed so real to John Ellison, as he had gazed day by day upon the old mill he knew so well, seemed to vanish now that he was within. He had thought of a hundred and one odd corners where he would search; but now they offered obviously so little chance of secreting anything that he felt his hopes begin to wane. Still, they went at it earnestly and thoroughly. Through the garret, with their lanterns lighted, they hunted; lifting aside boxes and barrels; opening dingy closets; peering into long unused bins. Hoppers that had been once a part of the mill's equipment, but which had been displaced by others, were carefully examined; even the rafters overhead were scrutinized, lest some overlooked box might be found hidden thereon. They went to the floor below, where the great grinding stones were; and where a tangle of belting and shaftings half filled one room. There were hiding places a-plenty here; but not one of them yielded anything. Then, on the main floor, where there was a great safe hidden in one corner, and the desk. Here they were on forbidden ground. The property was clearly Witham's, and they would not touch that. They could only search about the nooks and corners, and sound the boards for secret hiding-places. So on, up and down, in and out; even through the outer room of the mill, where all was rough and unfinished, and only a plank thrown across here and there to walk on. There were places enough where a box or package might be hidden--but where nothing was. Yet they continued industriously, and were so absorbed in their search that they failed to notice that Little Tim had vanished, until Harvey called to him for something, and he was nowhere to be found. They were half frightened for a moment, fearing lest he had slipped and fallen somewhere; but Harvey laughed at their fears. "You can't hurt that little monkey," he said. "He can swim like a fish, and he's a regular cat on climbing. No, he's up to some trick or other." They were aware of this presently--and just a bit startled--at the sound of a low whistle coming from the outer mill; then Tim Reardon darted in from the darkness, into the circle of lanterns.