The secret of the old mill

by Franklin W. Dixon

"We've got to cross that open space," whispered Frank.

"And what then?"

"See that willow tree beside the mill?"

Joe nodded.

"It reaches right to the roof. It looks to be our best bet. If we can climb that tree and drop to the roof or get in a window we'll be all right."

"As long as we can get up the tree without being heard."

"We have to take our chances on that," Frank said, in a low voice. "I think it's going to be harder to cross that open space."

For two hundred feet the grassy sward was bathed in moonlight. They could not walk across it without being in full view of any one who might be watching from the mill. But it had to be crossed as the mill itself was isolated on the bank of the river and on this side there was no protecting shade to enable them to creep up closer.

"We'll have to crawl across the grass," Frank whispered. "Ready?"

"I'm ready."