Part 3 (1/2)

out the one word: 'help! help! help!'”

The scoutmaster jumped to his feet instantly, ramming the note book deep down in his pocket as he grasped Giraffe eagerly by the arm, exclaiming:

”Come and show me what you mean! I hope you haven't mistaken a star for a torch!”

CHAPTER IV.

THE TORCH TALK.

Every one of the scouts was on his feet by this time, even fat b.u.mpus managing to struggle erect with the rest. And strange to say, the supper that was just about to be dished out was for the time being utterly swallowed up in this new and thrilling excitement.

They trooped after Thad and Giraffe, the latter still hanging on to his blazing torch. Toby was left alone by the fire; but after making sure that the supper was in no danger of burning up, the cool, level-headed guide followed his charges over to the spot where Giraffe had happened to be standing, when he noticed the odd signals from up on the face of the cliff.

”Where is it right now, Giraffe?” demanded Davy Jones.

”Nothin' doin'!” added Step Hen, in disgust. ”Now what d'ye think of that? The feller had his own eyes blinded by whirling his old blaze around so much, that he just _thought_ he glimpsed another light up there. Say, p'raps Thad hit the thing on the head when he mentioned a star. Like as not now, Giraffe, he just saw one peepin' over the top of the mountains at him, and thought it winked. Well, this takes the cake; and all that fine supper gettin' cold while we're gaping out here. It's a burnin' shame, that's what it is. Me for the fire again.”

”Wait!” said Thad, in that tone of authority that always found ready respect from the scouts under him; it was the scoutmaster, and not their chum, who spoke, whenever Thad used that very stern voice.

”Give you my word for it, Thad, I saw it again and again,” Giraffe went on, as if he felt that his veracity as a scout was hanging in the balance.

”Point out the exact place,” said Thad, promptly.

”I can do it all right, and don't you forget it, Step Hen,” declared the tall scout, eagerly; and accordingly, raising his torch, he held it stationary at an angle of nearly forty-five degrees.

”Right there she was, Thad; and if you look close now, p'raps you c'n see a sorter glow like,” he went on, again showing excitement.

”I believe I do,” replied Thad. ”Here, give me that torch of yours, Giraffe.”

”What are you goin' to do, Thad?” asked the other, even while he complied with the request, which was in the shape of a command.

”Try and see if I can get a raise again.”

As Thad said this he started to wave the torch in several ways. Now he lifted it and lowered it rapidly; then it went out at an angle; and followed with several circles, or possibly a diagonal dash.

And Giraffe saw that he was spelling out the word:

”h.e.l.lo!”

Eagerly they waited to see the result.

As the last letter was formed, and the wind-up sign made to indicate the message had been completed, to the astonishment of most of the boys there was a sudden response. Away up on the face of what seemed to be a high cliff a light appeared, and began to cut strange figures and lines in the air, as an arm swung it to and fro. And Thad, as he started to read the letters, realized that whoever it might be trying to get in communication with those in the valley, he certainly knew his Morse code all right; indeed a regular telegrapher and wigwag artist belonging to the Signal Corps of the United States Army could hardly have shown more proficiency in the business.

Regularly then, without a hitch, the fiery finger outlined against the dark background spelled out the significant word:

”Help!”

Thad read each letter aloud, for the benefit of those among the scouts who, not being so well along in the work, might have some difficulty in following those wizard flashes to and fro, up and down, and around.