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Updated: June 27, 2025
Hocker had already taken Moxley to the boat and seated him; the ruffian had lost his defiant manner, and was cowed and sullen. Jeffries now started to follow with Bug, but was stopped by a detaining touch on the arm. "I beg your pardon, Mr. Jeffries," said Ned, trying hard to control his feelings, "but you surely don't intend to carry off Bug to jail after all he has done to-night?
It seemed to the impatient boys that night would never come, but at last the gray light faded from the crevice, and the dusk of evening deepened the shadows in the old mill. Before it was fairly dark Moxley lighted one of the lanterns that he had brought from the canoes and put it on a log. It was a bullseye, and he so trained it that the yellow glare shone on the sawdust heap.
Knowin' that he meant mischief, and knowin' that you chaps couldn't be far away, I follered the creek on down. "Before daylight this morning I found the boat here. I went up the creek then lookin' fur Moxley, and that's when I met two of your party and warned them." "But where have you been all day?" interrupted Ned. "We thought you had gone off in some other direction."
There are plenty of other places that can be forced in." A brief pause followed, and then a sullen voice issued from behind the door. "I'll put a hole through the first man that tries to enter this mill. I mean what I say. Dude Moxley ain't to be trifled with." The men hastily withdrew, first taking the precaution to remove the plank that covered the sluiceway.
Bug's appearance was the signal for a most outrageous burst of profanity and threats from Moxley, and when Jeffries had finally subdued the ruffian by strong measures, the whole party crossed the wasteway, and moved up to the farmhouse, which was half a mile distant. Mrs.
Meanwhile Hocker and Jeffries had been quietly holding another consultation, and now the latter advanced to the side of the mill. "Moxley," he called in a loud voice, "if you know what's best for you, you will quietly hand out that gun, and deliver yourself up. The more trouble you give us, the harder it will be for you in the end.
We'll get them out of the scrape before long, never fear." Just then the farmer's shrill voice rang out distinctly from the hillside behind the mill: "Keep back, you rascal. If you crawl out that window I'll drop you quick as a wink." "Moxley is trying to escape from the second floor," muttered Hocker. "Wait a moment. I'll be back right away."
From sheer love of revenge he must have been tracking the Jolly Rovers ever since that momentous night nearly two weeks previous. Moxley gloated over the consternation and the dread that were depicted on the faces of his prisoners. He did not speak for a moment, but gazed at the boys with a cruel smile that was more terrible than a manifestation of anger.
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.
"It's a purty bad fix," he said slowly, "but I reckon we can't get your friends out of it. It's a pity you have no loading fur that gun. You see, Moxley is a bad man and won't listen to argument. We'll have to think over the matter a little bit, and meanwhile I'll tell you how I come to be here." Both sat down on the boat, and Bug began his narrative.
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