In less than five minutes the male portion of the villagers rushed forth from their houses, half dressed. Dogs barked, men shouted, women screamed, and children cried. All was now a scene of great excitement and confusion. Some armed with pokers, tongs, old rusty swords, pitchforks, and oaken clubs, rushed along the village green. “To the mill! To the mill!” roared some. “’Tis the Skeleton Crew!” shrieked others. “They have murdered the miller, and run off with Ellen!” “The constables are half murdered!” “On, lads, on!” These and similar shouts were now heard on every hand. The rustics looked pale and startled at the bare mention of the Skeleton Crew, for they had long known what a savage, remorseless band they were. Many, at the bare mention of the Skeleton Crew, ran into their cottages again, and barred their doors. Not a few fell on their knees, and began to mumble out their prayers in a very rapid manner. Some dozen or more stout-hearted, broad-backed fellows, however, boldly ran towards the mill, and dashed in. They asked no questions, but commenced to hit right and left in the darkness, and it was some time ere they discovered their mistake. When they did, however, they began to swear at each other in a very violent manner; nor did they heed the sighs and groans of the chief constable and his unlucky followers, who were half smothered under the sacks of flour. They searched the mill in every direction, but, for full half-an-hour, were unable to discover Master Jonas. That worthy youth had clambered over the sacks, and made his way up to the third story of the mill. He looked in every direction for some means to escape, but found none. The infuriated rustics, led on by old Harmer himself, now ascended the stairs in single file, and instituted a vigorous search. They brought with them several dogs to assist in the affair. One of these, more diligent in his search than others, scented out Master Jonas, who was concealed behind a flour-bin. He might have long remained there, unknown to the searchers, but the miller’s dog gave Jonas such a quiet nip in the leg, as made that worthy howl aloud with pain. “He’s here!” “We’ve got him!” “No you haven’t,” said Jonas. With a sudden bound he rushed from his hiding place, and dashed towards the two trap-doors through which the sacks were raised from below. They stood open; and in front of him dangled a long rope almost to the ground. This he seized, and began to slide down with the skill of an acrobat. But an accident happened to him that he least expected. The crane was pushed out from the wall, and, to Jonas’s horror, he found himself dangling right over the mill-dam! “Oh, the murdering villains! What must I do now?” thought the luckless servant. “They have shoved out the crane, and here am I dancing between the sky and a deep mill-dam.” “Cut the rope! cut the rope!” “Drown the rascal!” “He can’t escape!” “Lower the rope!”