It only took a few seconds to work his way through the bushes until he stood within the dim old mill. He could hear the water from the race splashing down, but the big wheel, which he could see through a break in the wall, was still. It was an old-fashioned under-shot wheel, covered with green moss, and Tommy, who always liked machinery, went closer to look at it.
As he stood near it, wondering how fast it moved when in working order, he heard voices in the old mill.
“I shouldn’t wonder but what he slipped in here!” he heard Sam say. The bullies had come back.
“Yes, just as likely as not,” said Jakie. “Well, there is a good place to duck him here—right in the mill pond.”
“They found out that I’d given them the slip!” thought Tommy, quickly, “and they’re back after me. Where can I hide?”
He looked about, half in fun at the idea of giving his enemies the slip, and half in fear lest they catch him and duck him. There seemed to be no place where he would be safe from their eyes. He looked about in vain, and was about to run up a pair of rickety stairs, though he was sure the boys would hear him. He could catch their footsteps coming nearer and nearer.
“The big mill wheel!” suddenly exclaimed Tommy. “If I could climb up on that I’d be out of sight. And it ought to be as easy as going up stairs.”
In fact, the wheel, with its big wooden pockets, or buckets, was not a hard place up which to scramble, as it was low down.
In another moment Tommy had made a spring for it, and soon he reached the top.
He was not a moment too soon, either, for just as he crouched down on the upper rim of the wheel he heard the voices more plainly, and he realized that his pursuers had entered the main room of the mill, from which he had just made his escape.