“The villain!” said Haennchen to herself when she was outside the room.  “Now I know that master was right when he said that Heinrich was no fit suitor to come courting me.”

With that she slammed the door to and turned the key, shutting the thief in a room as secure as any prison-cell.  He threatened and implored her, but Haennchen was deaf to oaths and entreaties alike.  Outside she found the miller’s son playing happily, and called him to her.  “Go to father as quickly as you can,” she said, putting him on the road to Hersel.  “You will meet him down there.  Tell him there is a thief in the mill.”

The child ran as fast as his little legs would carry him, but ere he had gone many yards a shrill whistle sounded from the barred window behind which Heinrich was imprisoned.

“Diether,” shouted the robber to an accomplice in hiding, “catch the child and come and stop this wench’s mouth.”  Haennchen looked around for the person thus addressed, but no one was in sight.  A moment later, however, Diether sprang up from a ditch, seized the frightened boy, and ran back toward the mill.  The girl had but little time in which to decide on a course of action.  If she barricaded herself in the mill, might not the ruffian slay the child?  On the other hand, if she waited to meet him, she had no assurance that he would not kill them both.  So she retired to the mill, locked the door, and awaited what fate had in store for her.  In vain the robber threatened to kill the child and burn the mill over her head if she would not open to him at once.  Seeing that his threats had no effect, he cast about for some means of entering the mill.  His quick eye noted one unprotected point, an opening in the wall connected with the big mill-wheel, a by no means easy mode of ingress.  But, finding no other way, he threw the frightened child on the grass and slipped through the aperture.

Meanwhile Haennchen, who from the position of her upper window could not see what was going on, was pondering how she could attract the attention of the miller or any of their neighbours.  At last she hit upon a plan.

It was Sunday and the mill was at rest.  If she were to set the machinery in motion, the unusual sight of a mill at work on the day of rest would surely point to some untoward happening.  Hardly had the idea entered her head ere the huge sails were revolving.  At that very moment Diether had reached the interior of the great drum-wheel, and his surprise and horror were unbounded when it commenced to rotate.  It was useless to attempt to stop the machinery; useless, also, to appeal to Haennchen.  Round and round he went, till at last he fell unconscious on the bottom of the engine, and still he went on rotating.  As Haennchen had anticipated, the miller and his family were vastly astonished to see the mill in motion, and hastened home from church to learn the reason for this departure from custom.  Some of their neighbours accompanied them.  In a few words Haennchen told them all that had occurred; then her courage forsook her and she fainted in the arms of the miller’s eldest son, who had long been in love with her, and whom she afterward married.