“Well, you take a big map, and ask a person to find some country, city, lake or river, as the case is. Most persons pick out for the puzzle a name printed in very small type, but those who know select a name printed in big letters, that take up half the map, maybe. And it most always happens that this is the hardest to find. I didn’t originate that,” he added, modestly. “I think Poe speaks of it in one of his stories.” “That’s right,” agreed Tom. “At any rate some one has had a try for the treasure here, at any rate, if signs of digging go for anything.” This was indeed so, for the ground was torn up, and in many places stones had been knocked out of the thick walls, as if some one had looked for secret hiding places. “Well, we can’t stop to dig now,” said Tom. “But if things go right we may later. Let’s go up on the main floor,” and he started toward an ancient doorway. “Not there!” cried Jack, holding back his chum. “Why not?” “The boards there will be as rotten as those on the wharf, and we’ll all take a tumble. Let’s go outside and around on the solid earth. I don’t want to put my other leg out of commission,” and he limped out of the basement of the ancient mill. The others followed, and soon they stood in the doorway of what had evidently been the main entrance to the ancient structure. It was on a level with the higher ground, farther back from the river. This floor contained the mill-stones, now fallen from their position, and encumbered with wreckage. There were several rooms, opening one into the other, now that the doors had fallen from their hinges, and here were holes that went through to the floor above. These holes had once contained the chutes through which the grain was fed to the mill-stones. “There might be treasure here almost anywhere,” remarked Jack, as he looked about. “And it’s been pretty well grubbed for,” commented Tom. “They’ve almost ripped the insides out of the mill looking for it. I suppose old Wallace has cut and sawed and pulled apart until it’s a wonder the old mill hangs together.” “It’s a well-built old place,” said Dick. “The stone walls are thick. There may be a hiding place in them.” “I shouldn’t wonder,” and Bert shrugged his shoulders. “Well, it’s going to be a job to take them apart all right,” and he looked at the stones imbedded in mortar that was as good still as it was the day it was mixed. The boys wandered about the main floor, and looked for a place to ascend to the third story, but there seemed to be none. “If we had a rope we could make it,” said Tom. “We’ll bring one next time.” “Huh! How you going to get up there to fasten it?” asked Bert. “Tie a stick on the end, throw the stick up, and when it catches, crossways, in one of the chute-holes we can go up easily enough.” “Good boy! Bright idea!” complimented Jack. “Well, let’s see if we can find where old Wallace hangs out. We haven’t come across his living quarters yet.”