He decided that he would do as had been done on a previous occasion--hide his boat some distance from the mill, and proceed the rest of the way on foot. He took particular pains to hide his craft this time, selecting a place where an eddy from the stream had followed out a miniature bay in the bank. It was well screened by overhanging bushes and trees, and as there were several others like it along the river, it would take a good guesser to pick out this particular one at first. Tom marked the place so he would know it himself, even if he came past in a hurry, and then, having arranged the bushes so as to further screen his boat, and gathering up his package of food, the small axe, the blanket, and his light, he set out. It was nervous work, for he realized that because of the loss of the boat a searching party might be out looking for it. “But they’re likely to stick to the river,” he argued, “and if I strike inland a bit, and go that way, they’re not so apt to find me. I’ll do it.” He had to pass near the cave where they had spent the night the time they first missed the boat, and he looked inside the cavern. To his surprise it showed signs of occupancy since he and his chums had been there. “They have been here,” he argued. “Or maybe it was the hermit, who spent a night here, instead of in the mill.” There were signs that a fire had been recently made, and food cooked, and there were portions of the latter scattered about. Tom, however, did not stay long there. It was getting on toward noon, and he had much before him. On the top of the bank, overlooking the river, he found an old trail, which he followed. It was narrow, showing that probably only one man had traveled it in recent years. “The old hermit,” mused Tom. “This is one of his paths. It must lead right to the mill, and it’ll take me there as well as if I had gone along the river, and a deal safer, too.” He walked briskly until he judged that he was close to the ancient structure, and then he proceeded more cautiously. As he came in sight of it he crouched behind the bushes, fairly crawling on until he had a good view. His first glimpse was at the window where he had seen the sentinel stand with a gun, and to his surprise and disappointment, he now saw the sun glinting on the barrel of a weapon. “Pshaw!” exclaimed Tom. “No chance of taking them by surprise. And they aren’t out, as I half-hoped they’d be. They are still on guard. I’ve got to wait.” He sat down under a bush and ate some of the lunch he had brought, sipping water from a bottle he had in his bundle. Then, after a half hour, he looked again. The gun was still pointed out of the window, seeming to be aimed at whoever should advance directly against the mill. “Still there,” mused Tom angrily. “They are taking no chances.” Intently from his screened post of observation, he watched the gun barrel. Then a strange thought came to him--a thought that sent the blood tingling through him.