Tom got aboard, and a little later a partly smashed lifeboat was sighted. It was brought to the derelict by one of the sailors, and found to contain Professor Skeel, who, it seems, had, by accident, taken passage for Honolulu on the same ship as that on which our hero started out. Naturally there was a mutual surprise.
Tom, the two sailors and Mr. Skeel were on the derelict for some time, and then having patched up the lifeboat they set out in that. But it was some time before they were picked up, and they had nearly starved. There was also a little boy saved from the wreck – Jackie Case – and Tom took charge of him.
Eventually Tom got to Australia, and then set out in a small steamer he hired to search for his parents. It was a long trip, but he heard that some survivors of a wreck were on an island in the Friendly group, though which island it was could not be learned. Tom searched on several and at last, and just in time, he discovered his father and mother, and some others who had gotten away in a small boat from the sinking Kangaroo.
That Tom was overjoyed need not be said, and he and his parents lost no time in starting back for their home in this country. All the details of the wreck, and how Tom brought his quest to a successful close, will be found in the second volume. I might add here that later nearly all those on board the Silver Star were saved, including the father of Jackie Case.
Tom went back to Elmwood Hall, and finished the spring term, graduating and becoming a Sophomore. He had come home, ready for the long summer vacation, when he received the letter from Jack Fitch, mentioned in the first chapter of this book.
I might state that Tom’s father was quite well off, and that our hero had sufficient spending money for his needs. He had, as I have mentioned, a good motorboat.
“Well, dad,” remarked Tom, when he thought his parent had sufficiently collected his thoughts. “Let’s have the story of the secret of the old mill.”
“As nearly as I can recollect it,” began Mr. Fairfield, “this mill is located about eight miles from the town of Wilden, where, as I told you, I spent some years when a lad. No one seems to know when the mill was built, but it is quite old, and must have been put up by the early settlers. It is of stone, and used to grind grain by water power.
“The mill is on the bank of a small river that flows into Lake Woonset, and it was this lake I was thinking of when I suggested that you go camping near it. It’s of good size, and there is fine fishing in it.”
“But about the mill, dad. What’s the secret of it, and what about the wild man?”
“I’m coming to that. As I said, the mill was probably built by the early settlers, and, ever since I can remember, there has been a rumor that there is treasure concealed in or about the old place.”
“Treasure, dad? What kind?”
“Well, there were all sorts of rumors. Some said pirates had come that far inland, and had buried their ill-gotten gains there, and another story was that during the Indian wars the settlers, of the then small village of Wilden, fled one day, after warning had been given them of a raid by the redmen. Before fleeing, however, it was said that they had hidden all their money, gold and silver ornaments, and so on, in the old mill. I think that story is more likely to be true than the other. At any rate it is history that the Indians once descended on Wilden, and killed nearly all the inhabitants.”
“Well, I’m glad there aren’t any Indians up there now, if we’re going camping,” remarked Tom, “though one or two might be nice for variety. But go on dad.”
“So it may be true that there is some treasure in or about the old mill,” went on Mr. Fairfield. “I know we boys used to hunt for it, but I never found any, though one of my chums, Tommy Gardner, did find a dime once, and right away there was a wild story that he had come upon the buried treasure. But it happened that the dime was one of recent date, so that story soon fell through.
“Still, ever since I can recollect, there has been more or less of a search made from time to time for gold and silver in the mill. In fact while it was pretty much of a ruin as long as I can remember, it must be much worse now, as the treasure hunters literally pulled it apart.”
“What about the wild man, dad?”
“Well, that has to do with the old mill also. This old Jason Wallace, of whom your mother spoke, is a descendant of some of the early settlers of Wilden. Naturally he heard the story of the treasure supposed to be in the mill, and he was one of the most persistent searchers after it. I never knew him very well, but it seems that constant searching, and never finding anything, has turned his mind.
“He is practically crazy now, and fairly lives in the old mill. He has fitted up some sort of a room there and goes about through the woods at times, looking in all sorts of places for the treasure, thinking I suppose that, after all, it may not be in the mill, but somewhere around it.”
“Is he a dangerous character, dad?”
“Well, I suppose he might be in a way, if you crossed him, or if he thought you were trying to do him out of the treasure.”
“Then we won’t cross him,” said Tom, with a laugh. “But all this sounds interesting, and I don’t believe we could camp in a better place.”
“You’ll be careful; won’t you, Tom?” asked his mother.
“Oh, sure,” he answered with a smile. “But after what I went through in the shipwreck I’m not afraid of a wild man. Why, I might even help him find the treasure.”
“I don’t really believe there is any,” said Mr. Fairfield. “I wouldn’t lose any sleep over it if I were you, Tom.”
“I won’t. We fellows will probably be so busy having a good time in camp that we won’t go near the old mill, except maybe to take some photos of it. Is that all there is to the story, dad?”
“That’s all I know,” replied Mr. Fairfield. “You might see your mother’s friend, Mrs. Henderson, when you get to Wilden, and she may be able to give you some additional particulars.”
“She wrote me,” said Mrs. Fairfield, “that the way old Jason Wallace takes on is terrible at times. He rushes around through the woods, yelling at the top of his voice, and whenever he meets people he imagines they are after the treasure in the mill. I do wish, Tom, that you weren’t going to such a place. Can’t you pick out just as good a spot somewhere else, to go camping?”
“Oh, no, momsey! This is great! I wouldn’t miss this for anything, and the fellows will think it’s the best ever, I know. I’m going to tell Dick Jones first, and then write to Jack and Bert.”
“Well, do be careful,” urged Mrs. Fairfield, who seemed filled with anxiety.
“Don’t worry,” advised her husband. “Tom can take care of himself I guess. Why, he even found us when we were shipwrecked, you know.”
“Yes, I know. But this is different, up there in the woods, with that crazy creature roaming about. And it’s so lonesome and so far from a town!”
“All the better,” laughed Tom. “It’s no fun camping next door to a village. We want to rough it. I’m going to find Dick.” And he hurried off to tell his village chum the good news.
CHAPTER III
TOM’S CHUMS ARRIVE
“Well, Tom, how about it?” greeted Dick, when our hero met him, soon after having heard the details about the old mill and the wild man from Mr. Fairfield. “Is it all right for camp?”
“I should say yes, and then some more! Say, Dick, it’s going to be great! Think of it; a mystery to solve, and a wild hermit sort of a chap, roaming around through the woods, looking for your scalp.”
“Where’s that?”
“Where we’re going camping – where else? Here’s the yarn,” and Tom told it as he had heard it. “How about that?” he asked when he had finished.
“Couldn’t be better,” declared