Part 8 (2/2)

And sure enough, while we were talking the sun was off the peaks, and the lower hills were black enough to show a fire.

I hadn't any more than got ready the big lantern with the strong reflector, than Wayne's signal began to flash, eight or ten miles back in the hills. I answered. And then came the message: ”Good so far.”

”I guess they find out sometheeng,” said Captain Marat.

”It's good to know they're already making progress,” observed Julian.

”Next,” said Norris, ”they'll be signalling--'Come on, the trail is hot.'” And he stayed on deck till long after midnight.

The next day dragged for all of us, waiting for night. Nothing was right. Even Rufe's noon meal was no success.

”Say, you-all is jest de cantankerest bunch!” said Rufe. ”Dem 'are biscuits is jest de kin' you-all been a braggin' on; an' dat fish, an'

de puddin'--W'at's wrong wid dem, ah likes to know?”

But no one had a word on that.

And when the supper went the same way, Rufe put his foot down, said he wouldn't cook another meal till we got the voodoo out of our systems.

”Dat w'at it is, hit's de voodoo w'at's got into you-all's stummicks,”

he declared. ”Dey ain't no use o' my cookin' no more till you is busted wid it.”

That hot lazy sun finally dipped down west, and from then on, every candle or firefly on sh.o.r.e had us on the jump. Grant Norris was the worst of the bunch. At ten o'clock he broke loose.

”Those young skunks!” he said. ”Won't I give them a piece of my mind!

They might give us a word. No sense in keeping mum like this.”

At midnight all but Norris gave it up and turned in. He said he wouldn't trust the watch, and anyway there wasn't any sleep in him.

I hadn't any more than got two winks of my first beauty sleep, than something had me by the scruff, and bounced me out of my bunk onto the floor. It was worse than the nightmare.

I was kneading the cobwebs of fairyland out of my eyes, and I heard Norris saying:

”Pile up on deck you sleepy-head! Wayne's talking to you.”

I ”piled up” on deck; and there, way back in the hills, ever so far away, I saw the flas.h.i.+ng of a beacon light. A long flash, a short one, another long, a short. That's C. Three long ones--O. And so on. ”Come ask for Brill. Come ask for Brill,” the message went.

Norris brought the lamp with the strong reflector, and I flashed back an answer. But they evidently didn't see our smaller light, for they continued with their--”Come, ask for Brill. Come ask for Brill.”

Now I can't explain just how, but I knew from the way the flashes were given that it wasn't Wayne, but Robert, who was doing the signalling.

Then they were not together up there, for Wayne always did that job.

I told Norris the message, and he began to poke everybody else up. He went banging at Rufe, too, and there was considerable excitement all round.

”Oh, yes, sah, yes, sah, Mistah Norris,” said Rufe ”dat coffee 'll be a'bilin' in jes' a minute. Glory be to goodness! dis heah voodoo carryin's on is wus dan gittin' religion at a shoutin' Methodis' camp meetin'.”

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