AT THE OLD MILL The Henderson mill was now largely so only in name.

So far back as the Rover boys could remember, it had been a tenantless structure going slowly to decay.

The water wheel was gone, and so were the grinding stones, and the roof and sides were full of holes.

Henderson, the owner, had years ago fallen heir to a fortune, and had moved away, leaving the building at the mercy of the tramps who frequently stopped there.
It was no easy matter to climb around or over the rocks which lay between the boys and the old mill, and the darkness under the thick trees was intense.

They felt their way along slowly, and Tom was careful to carry the shotgun with the barrel pointed downward, that there might be no accident.
"More than likely those fellows have been putting up at the old mill," said Dick.
"They'll leave now--if they think we are coming," answered Sam.
"Let us keep quiet," put in Tom.