Part 7 (1/2)

”Give me another towel, quick,” he said to Artie. ”Is the window open?

you better go up, Kid.”

It was the first time he ever called me kid and he had to cough when he said it. But I just couldn't move. There was something in my throat and my eyes that wasn't smoke, and I said, ”I can stand it if you can--Wig.”

”Go on up, kid,” he said, ”we've--got--got--her--talking--now,” and he coughed and choked.

”Go on up, Roy,” Artie Van Arlen said.

Up on the roof all the fellows were sitting 'round the edge with their legs over, watching the black column in the sky, and shouting when they read the letters. But I was thinking about those fellows down in that cabin filled with smoke and how they were doing that all on account of me.

”Pretty smoky down there,” one of the Elks said to me.

”You said something,” I told him.

”He's marking up the sky all right, if he can only stick it out,”

another fellow said. ”Who's down there with him ?”

”Artie,” I said.

”They'll stick it out, all right,” Westy Martin said; ”it's easier for Artie, he can stay near the window .”

”Bully for you, Wig, old boy!” somebody shouted, just as the E in SAFE shot up. And I knew what it meant--it meant that the words Roy is safe had been printed in great big black letters across the sky.

Then it came faster and faster and it seemed as if he must be turning that damper like a telegraph operator moves his key. ”Don't worry!”

it said, ”reports false,” ”Roy Blakeley safe,” ”Roy safe,” ”Blakeley alive.” He said it all kinds of different ways.

Once Artie came up coughing and choking and watched a few seconds to see if the wind was blowing the smoke away as fast as the signs were made, because that was important.

”It's lucky we have that wind,” he said, and then went down again in a hurry.

Pretty soon we could see some searchlights far away and I guess they were on the s.h.i.+ps. But ours was different and nearer to Bridgeboro, and people would be sure to see it, only maybe they wouldn't understand it and that's what made me worry. I'm good on reading smudge signals, even though I never sent many and I never have to have the handbook when I read the code, that's one thing. And I didn't pay much attention to all the talking and yelling, only kept my eyes up in the sky, watching that long smoky column. It beat any searchlight you ever saw. ”Roy alive”--”Roy alive” it kept saying and sometimes ”don't worry.”

I didn't see how any fellow could manage a smudge and send it so fast and keep his s.p.a.ces. The last word before it stopped was SAFE, or that's what it was meant to be, only the short flash for E didn't come. The fellows all began shouting when there wasn't any more, and I heard Pee-wee shout downstairs, ”Aren't you going to put the name of the boat?”

”Do you want him to crack the sky open?” I heard a fellow say, and they all laughed.

But I remembered how that last E didn't come and I started down the ladder for all I was worth. I scrambled around the narrow part of the deck to the window and called, but n.o.body answered. The smoke was coming out thick.

”Wig,” I said, ”are you there? Are you all right? Artie, where are you?”

I had to turn away my face on account of the smoke. I pulled off my scout scarf and tied it over my mouth, so that it covered my ears too.

Then I looked in and down low, because I knew that the smoke wouldn't be so thick near the floor. And I saw Wig Weigand lying there right under the stove pipe and his hand was reaching up holding the damper, and his hand was all white like and his eyes were wide open and staring. Then I shouted for all I was worth.

”Doc! Come down--hurry! Send Doc Carson down, Wig Weigand is dead--he's suffocated.”

CHAPTER X