The other boys were already tumbling down the ladder, and the girls followed as fast as possible. It was rather dark below, and when they came to the ground floor, it was full of dancing dust-particles. Dave and Ferd were busy over the machinery near the door.
“Can’t you stop it, Dave?” shrieked Percy.
“The confounded thing is broken!” announced Dave, in disgust.
“Goodness me!” cried Frank. “I want to get out of here.”
She started for the door; but Wyn grabbed her just in time. Past the open door whirled the sails of the mill–one after the other–faster and faster. And so close were the sails to the doorway that there was not room for the very smallest of the Go-Ahead girls to get out without being struck.
Dave stared around at the others. It was almost impossible to hear each other speak–and what was there to say? Each boy and girl realized the situation in which Ferd’s meddling had placed them.
Until the wind subsided they were prisoners in the tower.
Ferd Roberts subsided into a corner, and hid his face in his hands. He had done something that scared his inquisitive soul to the very bottom.
He had started the sails, and then, in trying to throw out the clutch, he had started the millstones as well. They made most of this noise that almost deafened them.
Finally, however, Dave pushed the power belt from the flywheel, and the stones stopped turning; but there was no way of stopping the sails. To step outside the door was to court instant death, and until the wind stopped blowing it seemed as though there would be no escape.