Then he noticed two things. The first was that the sun had disappeared; heavy clouds were coming up from the sea, and that without sunshine the old mill looked particularly mysterious and lonely. The second thing scared him at first, for it seemed to be a black hat, without a head inside it, moving slowly along towards the mill just on the level of the ground! A black hat suggested Slinky at once, and the old mill suggested the same person, but the poor man could hardly have shrunk to the size of a doll!

Then he had his big idea!

It must be Slinky who was walking along a ditch or a sunken path or road that was not visible from where he was crouching. After a little the black hat disappeared altogether, so Jon got up and ran along his side of the hedge in the direction from which the hat had moved.

His guess was a good one, for after a minute's running he came to a sunken road, climbed the gate and very cautiously made his way towards the mill. The road had obviously been used by the wagons which had brought the grain to the miller and later returned for the baker's flour. Luckily, the track twisted and turned more than once, but Jon moved very carefully and was certain he made no sound as he made his way cautiously round each corner. After a little he noticed a still burning cigarette stump so, very carefully and slowly, he climbed up the steep bank and by holding on with both hands to a little hawthorn bush he raised his head until he could see over the edge. He was astonished to find himself so near to the mill, though not so surprised to see Slinky leaning against it and lighting another cigarette. Jon held his breath, praying that his quarry would not look down as he threw his match away. Then he realized with a shock that unless he did something definite at once it was more than likely that he would be found by Slinky's visitor, who must be due at any moment.

He had to think quickly, and as a thorn from the branch he was grasping was now hurting him badly, he let go and slid, as quietly as he could, down the bank into the lane. He lay still for a moment, but there was no sound from above except that made by the rising wind as it whistled through the creaking skeleton of the mill.