A dangerous glitter in the man's eyes showed that Clay's question was not at all to his liking.
"How them canoes got here is none of your business," he answered emphatically, "and I don't want no argument about it. Step lively now in the direction of that mill."
The mask was off, and the boys realized that they were prisoners. Their captor's sullen features and the gun that he bore on his shoulder forbade any attempt at escape.
With sinking hearts they trudged along the shore a few feet in advance of the ruffian. They had no doubt that their companions were confined in the mill, and it was some consolation to know they were going to join them. Why they had been captured at all, and what object was to be gained by it was a mystery too deep for comprehension.
From time to time the tramp uttered a brief order, and in this way he drove the boys before him, across the sluiceway, and then over the rickety floor of the mill to the lower corner. He unbolted the closet door and shoved them roughly in.
It was not by any means a joyful reunion for the Jolly Rovers, but they were very glad to be together again nevertheless. A crevice in the door admitted some light to the closet, and at the same time afforded a view of Mr. Moxley, who was then sitting on the sawdust heap, examining the contents of his grain bag.
He drew out two dead chickens, half a dozen ears of corn, and a quantity of apples and pears—a sure proof that he had secretly been plundering some farmer. He began to munch one of the apples, and the boys took advantage of the opportunity to narrate their adventures in low, whispered tones.
When all had been told the mystery was no nearer solution than before—in fact it was even more complex.
"I can't imagine why this fellow has gone to such trouble and risk to capture us all," said Ned. "I hardly think he will do any harm. We must wait patiently and see what happens."
"I can't understand that warning Nugget and I received," added Clay. "I hope the man will keep his word and help us out of this scrape."