"I don't want to unlock the safe myself," said he, "but I can show you how to do it. There is a trick to the lock."
"Come along, then," said the least brutal of the men; "nobody wants to hurt you, if you'll be accommodating."
Never had the mill stairs seemed so long to Eben as on this occasion, but they reached the office at last, where another person was standing, engaged in transferring a box of Mr. Antis's choice cigars, a present from Mr. Francis, to his own pocket. The man was masked, but something about him seemed familiar, and Eben started to hear him say, half aloud, "Well, I wouldn't have believed Eben would give up so easy."
"Hold your tongue, you fool!" growled Eben's first acquaintance. "Now, young man, show us the trick of the lock, or unlock it yourself."
"I don't want to do that, but I can show you how it goes," said Eben, whose object was to keep near the door. "You must hold the plate back with one hand while you turn the key with the other. No, no! Push the plate back and up. The key always turns very hard."
The first robber did as directed. Insensibly, in his interest in watching the process of unlocking the safe, Eben's guard loosed his hold. In an instant Eben's hand grasped the bell-rope, which hung close by him, and he gave it three or four quick jerks, making the loud bell send forth an irregular peal, which he knew would arouse Jeduthun and Mr. Antis at once. Then, by a violent wrench freeing himself from his detainer, he darted round the corner, followed by a shot from a revolver. His object was to reach the lever by which the water was let on the wheel. He knew that the moment Mr. Antis opened his door, he would hear the sound of the mill and know that something was wrong.
He succeeded in finding the lever in the darkness, and made one desperate exertion of his fast-failing strength. He knew that he was wounded and bleeding terribly, but he hung on with desperate energy till he heard the dash of the water and the clank and hum of the machinery. Then a deadly faintness overcame him, and he dropped upon a heap of oats close by. He heard heavy feet, a shout from Jeduthun's trumpet voice, then more shots, and his own name called. He tried to answer, but his voice failed him, and he knew no more.
As Eben had anticipated, Jeduthun was awakened by the first sound of the bell, and before the echo had died away he had struggled into his clothes as only a soldier can, snatched his revolver, and was flying towards the mill. Mr. Antis was there as quickly as himself, only to be knocked down by a man issuing from the door. Crack! went Jeduthun's pistol, followed by a plunge into the water, and when Mr. Antis rose, he found Jeduthun holding down a prostrate figure, from which proceeded a voice begging for mercy.
"What's the matter?" asked Mr. Antis, stunned and half bewildered by the blow he had received, which was a heavy one.
"Lots of things," returned Jeduthun. "Are you hurt, boss?"