Some dozen or more stout-hearted, broad-backed fellows, however, boldly ran towards the mill, and dashed in.
They asked no questions, but commenced to hit right and left in the darkness, and it was some time ere they discovered their mistake.
When they did, however, they began to swear at each other in a very violent manner; nor did they heed the sighs and groans of the chief constable and his unlucky followers, who were half smothered under the sacks of flour.
They searched the mill in every direction, but, for full half-an-hour, were unable to discover Master Jonas.
That worthy youth had clambered over the sacks, and made his way up to the third story of the mill.
He looked in every direction for some means to escape, but found none.
The infuriated rustics, led on by old Harmer himself, now ascended the stairs in single file, and instituted a vigorous search.
They brought with them several dogs to assist in the affair.
One of these, more diligent in his search than others, scented out Master Jonas, who was concealed behind a flour-bin.
He might have long remained there, unknown to the searchers, but the miller’s dog gave Jonas such a quiet nip in the leg, as made that worthy howl aloud with pain.