It was then nearly night, and, having a dread of going home, Tom resolved to remain with his brother until morning, intending then to acknowledge his fault and beg of the boss to be allowed to return to his post. Had he done this then and there it would have saved him an ordeal of which he little dreamed.
It could not have been far from midnight, as he was tossing uneasily on his rough couch, while he pondered upon his recent mistake, when he heard some one moving about the mill. Then he discovered two youths a little older than himself moving cautiously about the premises.
One of the couple carried a lighted torch in his hand, and which he kept moving to and from as he led his companion over the place.
“Look out, Phil,” said the latter, “or you will set the old shell on fire.”
“Sho! this wouldn’t burn, it’s so green,” and, as if to prove his words, he thrust the burning brand into the midst of a pile of combustible matter. To his dismay, the dried material instantly ignited, and the flames sprang upward with a suddenness and fury that frightened the newcomers.
“You have set the mill on fire!” gasped the other.
“Quick!” exclaimed the one who had done the mischief, dropping the torch in his terror, “run for your life, Nate. We must not be found here.”
By this time Tom had sprung from his couch, but he was too late to stop the runaway boys, though he did reach the scene of the fire and just picked up the smoldering torch as one of the millmen, who had been attracted by its light, appeared on the scene.
“Here, you little devil!” he roared. “Trying to burn up the mill, are you? It’s lucky I have caught you at your devilish work.”
Tom was powerless to flee, if he had wished to, and in a moment he found himself flung to the floor by a pair of strong arms, and just as his brother reached the spot he was tied hands and feet.