Greater still was the colonel's surprise—indeed, he was fairly taken aback—when Henry Burns, having bade him good-evening, broached his subject abruptly, without any preliminaries.
"Colonel Witham," said Henry Burns, coolly, "we were up in the mill last night."
The colonel's eyes stuck out, and he glared at Henry Burns with mingled astonishment and wrath.
"Eh, what's that?" he exclaimed, "you were in my mill! Why, you young rascals, don't you know I could have you all arrested as burglars?"
"No," replied Henry Burns, "we didn't go to take anything of yours. We were after some papers that belonged to John Ellison's father. We weren't going to keep them either, if we found them; just turn them over to Lawyer Estes."
"Well, then, it was trespass," cried Colonel Witham, wrathfully. "Who told you there were papers in the mill. Lawyer Estes didn't—he knows better."
"No," replied Henry Burns, "but you told the fortune-teller so."
"I didn't say that," bellowed Colonel Witham, rising from his chair. But it was plain the suggestion of the fortune-teller worried him. "What did you do in there?" he added. "If you did any harm, you'll suffer for it."
"We didn't," said Henry Burns. "We only played on a horse-fiddle once or twice. You know there are rats in the mill, colonel. I guess they scampered when they heard that."
Colonel Witham had been about to burst forth with an angry exclamation; but the thought of his own ignominious flight made him pause. Rats, indeed! He knew there wasn't a rat in the whole mill that had been half so terrified as he.