"Find anything?" called Uncle Dock from the top of the stairs.
"It was only the cat," answered Markel sullenly. "The brute must have been prowling around on the stairs and knocked the pail over."
"Well, come back and get to work. I hope you're satisfied now. I knew it must have been something like that."
Markel gave no answer, but went back up the stairs. After a while the door of the workroom banged behind him and soon the roar and rattle of the printing press broke out anew.
Frank took a deep breath.
"That's the closest call I ever went through," he whispered, in relief.
"Let's get out of here. Quick! I'd like to give that cat about a quart of cream for breakfast."
They tiptoed quietly out of the room and made their way to the front door of the mill. It was, as Frank had predicted, bolted on the inside, but he drew the bolt and the door swung slowly open.
Frank placed his fingers on his lips as a sign for silence. To this Joe nodded understandingly.
Then from a distance came an unexpected sound—the mewing of a cat!
Both lads had to grin—indeed, it was all
