The two boys made good time out into the country and when at last they reached the abandoned road that led down to Willow River it was not quite ten o'clock. As they rode they discussed their plan of action and it was agreed that they should leave the motorcyles beside the road at the same place they had left them on the occasion of their previous visit to the mill. "I'd like to have them closer to the river," said Frank, "for we might have to clear out of there in a hurry. But we can't afford to let them hear us coming." "And it's a calm night. They could hear a motorcycle for half a mile," opined his brother. They left the machines in the shade of some trees by the roadside and went the rest of the way on foot. They could see quite clearly, for the moon had risen higher and the grey ribbon of road extended before them. "I wish it had been a bit darker," Joe said. "We'll have to be careful when we get near the place." "They may have some one posted on guard. Oh, well, we can look the place over when we get there." At last they emerged on the hilltop that overlooked Willow River. Below them lay the stream, with water shining in the moonlight. The deep banks of willow trees along the borders cast heavy shadows, and a light mist overhung the fields and hedges in the distance. Gloomy and mysterious, the heavy bulk of the old mill rose from beside the river, near the shimmering silver streak of the mill race. Not a light shone from the building and it appeared absolutely deserted. "Perhaps they've all moved away," suggested Joe. "I noticed that the buildings were all boarded up when we were here last time. They haven't moved away, never fear." Cautiously, the boys went down the slope. They left the road and kept to the shadows of the trees, skirting the open space of meadow that lay between the grove and the mill itself. They did not speak, for the night was so calm and clear that sound carried for a considerable distance. They could hear the dull roar of the rapids and the waterfall, sounding hollow and lonely in the moonlit night. They came to the edge of the grove and moved slowly about in the deep shadows, the grass sinking beneath their feet. When they had reached a point about two hundred feet from the mill they paused to reconnoitre. "We've got to cross that open space," whispered Frank. "And what then?" "See that willow tree beside the mill?" Joe nodded. "It reaches right to the roof. It looks to be our best bet. If we can climb that tree and drop to the roof or get in a window we'll be all right." "As long as we can get up the tree without being heard." "We have to take our chances on that," Frank said, in a low voice. "I think it's going to be harder to cross that open space."