top of the wheel, as there was in many mills, climbing it would have been relatively simple. The brothers came to a quick decision: to maneuver one of the paddles on the wheel until it was
directly below the ledge of the open space, then stop the motion. During the short interval
which took place between the stop and start of the wheel, they hoped to climb by way of the
paddles to the top and gain entrance to the mill.
Joe ran back through the beam, breaking it, while Frank clambered over a pile of rocks across
the water to the wheel. It rumbled to a stop, one paddle aligned with the open space above. By the time Joe returned, Frank had started to climb up, pulling himself from paddle to paddle by means of the metal side struts. Joe followed close behind.
The boys knew they were taking a chance in their ascent up the wet, slippery, mossy wheel.
They were sure there must be a timing-delay switch somewhere in the electric-eye circuit.
Could they beat it, or would they be tossed off into the dark rushing water?
"I believe I can get to the top paddle and reach the opening before the timer starts the wheel turning again. But can Joe?" Frank thought. "Hurry!" he cried out to his brother.
Doggedly the two continued upward. Suddenly Joe's hand slipped on a slimy patch of moss. He
almost lost his grip, but managed to cling desperately to the edge of the paddle above his head, both feet dangling in mid-air.
"Frank!" he hissed through clenched teeth.
His brother threw his weight to the right. Holding tight with his left hand to a strut, he reached down and grasped Joe's wrist. With an aerialist's grip, Joe locked his fingers on Frank's wrist, and let go with his other hand.
Frank swung him out away from the wheel. As Joe swung himself back, he managed to regain
his footing and get a firm hold on the paddle supports.
"Whew!" said Joe. "Thanks!"
The boys resumed the climb, spurred by the thought that the sluice gate would reopen any
second and start the wheel revolving.
Frank finally reached the top paddle. Stretching his arms upward, he barely reached the sill of the opening. The old wood was rough and splintering, but felt strong enough to hold his weight.
"Here goes!" he thought, and sprang away from the paddle.
At the same moment, with a creaking rumble, the wheel started to move!
*The Hidden Room**">CHAPTER XVIII
The Hidden Room
WHILE Frank clung grimly to the sill, Joe, below him, knew he must act fast to avoid missing the chance to get off, and perhaps being crushed beneath the turning wheel. He leaped upward
with all his might.
Joe's fingers barely grasped the ledge, but he managed to hang onto the rough surface beside
his brother.
Then together they pulled themselves up and over the sill through the open space.
In another moment they were standing inside the second floor of the building. Rickety boards
creaked under their weight. Still not wishing to risk the use of flashlights, the Hardys peered around in the darkness.
"I think we're in the original grinding room," Frank whispered as he discerned the outlines of two huge stone cylinders in the middle of the room.
"You're right," said Joe. "There's the old grain hopper." He pointed to a chute leading down to the grinding stones.
Though many years had passed since the mill had been used to produce flour, the harsh, dry
odor of grain still lingered in the air. In two of the corners were cots and a set of crude shelves for clothes.
Suddenly the boys* hearts jumped. A loud clattering noise came from directly below. Then,
through a wide crack in the floor, shone a yellow shaft of light!
"Someone else must be here!" Joe whispered.
The Hardys stood motionless, hardly daring to breathe, waiting for another sound. Who was in
the suddenly lighted room?
The suspense was unbearable. Finally the brothers tiptoed over and peered through the wide
crack.
Straightening up, Frank observed, "Can't see anyone. We'd better go investigate."
Fearful of stumbling in the inky darkness, the boys now turned on their flashlights, but shielded them with their hands. Cautiously they found their way to a door. It opened into a short
passageway which led down a narrow flight of steps.
Soon Frank and Joe were in another small hall. Ahead was a partially opened door, with light
streaming from it.
Every nerve taut, the young sleuths advanced. Frank edged up to the door and looked in.
"Well?" Joe hissed. To his utter astonishment Frank gave a low chuckle, and motioned him forward.
"For Pete's sake!" Joe grinned.
Inside, perched on a chipped grindstone, was a huge, white cat. Its tail twitched indignantly. An overturned lamp lay on a table.
The Hardys laughed in relief. "Our noisemaker and lamplighter!" Frank said as the boys entered the room. "The cat must have knocked over the lamp and clicked the switch."
Although the room contained the gear mechanism and the shaft connected to the mill wheel, it
was being used as a living area by the present tenants. There were two overstuffed chairs, a
table, and a chest of drawers. On the floor, as if dropped in haste, lay a scattered newspaper.
"Let's search the rest of the mill before Markel and Docker get back," Joe suggested. "Nothing suspicious here."
The Hardys started with the top story of the old building. There they found what was once the
grain storage room. Now it was filled with odds and ends of discarded furniture.
"I'm sure nothing's hidden here," Frank said.
The other floors yielded no clues to what Docker and Markel's secret might be.
Frank was inclined to be discouraged. "Maybe our big hunch is all wet," he muttered.
Joe refused to give up. "Let's investigate the cellar. Come on!"
The brothers went into the kitchen toward the basement stairway. Suddenly Joe gave a stifled
yell.
Something had brushed across his trouser legs. Frank swung his light around. The beam caught
two round golden eyes staring up at them.
"The white cat!" Joe said sheepishly.
Chuckling, the Hardys continued down into the damp, cool cellar. It was long and narrow, with
only two small windows.
Three walls were of natural stone and mortar. The fourth wall was lined with wooden shelves.
Frank and Joe played their flashlights into every corner.
"Hm." There was a note of disappointment in Joe's voice. "Wheelbarrow, shovels, picks-just ordinary equipment."
Frank nodded. "Seems to be all, but where are the old bricks and lumber that Ken said were stored here?"
"I'm sure the stuff was never intended for Elekton," Joe declared. "More likely the mill. But where? In a floor? We haven't seen any signs."
Thoughtfully the boys walked over to inspect the shelves, which held an assortment of
implements. Frank reached out to pick up a hammer.
To his amazement, he could not lift it. A further quick examination revealed that all the tools were glued to the shelves.
"Joel" he exclaimed. "There's a special reason for this-and I think it's camouflage!"
"You mean these shelves are movable, and the tools are fastened so they won't fall off?"
"Yes. Also, I have a feeling this whole section is made of the old lumber from Pritos' yard."
"And the bricks?" Joe asked, puzzled.
His brother's answer was terse. "Remember, this mill was used by settlers. In those days many places had hidden rooms in case of Indian attacks-"
"I get you!" Joe broke in. "Those bricks are in a secret room! The best place to build one in this mill would have been the cellar."