The situation was really serious; nobody among the prisoners of the tower knew what to do.
While the wind swung the arms of the mill round and round, there was no chance to get out. Not that they did not all cudgel their brains within the next hour to that end. There were enough suggestions made to lead to a dozen escapes; only–none of the suggestions were practical.
It was less noisy, now that Dave had stopped the millstones; but the building continued to tremble, and the great wheel to creak.
“What a donkey the man was to let them cut his door right behind the arms,” exclaimed Frankie.
“And with no proper means of stopping the sails from inside, once the wind began to blow,” added Percy.
“No. That’s my fault,” admitted Ferdinand. “I broke the gear some way.”
“Well, if we only had an axe,” said one of the other boys, “we might cut our way out of the building on the side opposite the door.”
But Dave had already searched the mill for tools. There wasn’t even a rope. Had there been, they could have let themselves down from the high window to the ground.
“It should be against the law to build windmills without proper fire-escapes,” declared Frank, trying to laugh.
But it was hard to joke about the matter. It looked altogether too serious.