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.”