There was on their right, not far from the road, an old windmill, which stood upon a gently rising ground, and was quite a conspicuous object. This caught the eye of Brooke as he looked all around.
"There," said he, "is the place for us. These fellows seem to be on the march. They will soon pass by this and be gone. Let us hide in the old mill."
Talbot at once assented. They then left the road and crossed the fields. In a short time they reached the mill. It was deserted, and the machinery was out of order, but otherwise it was in good preservation. The door was open, and they entered. Having once obtained this concealment, they stood in the door-way anxiously watching. At length they saw a crowd of men come up along the road, and these they regarded with quick-beating hearts.
"Brooke," said Talbot, in a whisper.
"What?"
"What shall we do if they come here?"
"That's a solemn question," said Brooke. "We ought to have something to fall back on. Wait."
He went away for a few minutes, and then returned. As he came back to the door Talbot pressed his arm and pointed. Brooke looked out.
To his horror the whole band had stopped, and some of them were facing toward the mill as though about to approach it.
"What a mistake we've made!" said Brooke.