Every one of the scouts was on his
feet by this time, even fat Bumpus 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:
“Hello!”
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.
“Just like I said, ain’t
it, Thad?” breathed Giraffe, as if he felt that
his reputation, assailed by Step Hen, had been fully
vindicated; but the scoutmaster did not bother answering
his question, since he had his mind wholly bent upon
solving the mystery of the mountains.
Again he started making erratic movements
with the torch he gripped in his right hand; and the
staring Giraffe read what the patrol leader was saying
to the unknown party perched aloft.
“What is the matter?”
Then the light appeared again, and
it seemed as though the other might purposely be keeping
it concealed between messages; and back came the startling
answer, which Thad spelled aloud as it was sent:
“In trouble come up help
me!”
“Great governor! what d’ye
suppose ails him?” exclaimed Giraffe, seldom
being able to keep a still tongue in his head, especially
when excited very much; and just then he was quivering
all over with nervous eagerness to solve the mystery.
“Somebody bring me another stick
from the fire,” said Thad; “this one is
getting burnt out. Giraffe, you go, because you’ll
know what kind I want better than any of the others.”
Giraffe might have felt like rebelling,
because he hated the worst kind to lose a single word
of that mighty interesting exchange of signals; but
Thad, as usual, had been wise enough to coat the order
with a little subtle flattery that served as oil to
lubricate matters. Since none of the other scouts
could be trusted to select the right kind of torch
necessary for signaling purposes, why, of course Giraffe
must sacrifice all other personal desires, for the
common good. And so he walked toward the fire,
though most of the time that long neck of his kept
“rubbering” backward, so as to give him
something of a chance to see what came next on the
programme.
“Who are you?” Thad waved
upward, each letter being clear and distinct; for
the scout leader knew the folly of running them into
one another, and confusing the receiving end of the
battery.
“Aleck Rawson!”
When Thad had spelled this out, various
exclamations arose from the boys.
“Rawson why, that
was the name of the man who found the silver mine
up in this country, wasn’t it, Toby?” cried
Davy Jones, voicing the thought that had flashed into
the mind of every boy just then.
“It sure was,” replied the guide.
“Can this be him, then; has
he been a prisoner all these years?” gasped
Smithy; at which there was a scornful laugh from the
others.
“His name wa’n’t
Aleck; near as I kin remember ’twas Jerry,”
said Toby.
“P’raps, suh, he had a son?” suggested
Bob White.
“Just what I was going to remark,” added
Allan, eagerly.
The intelligence that had come to
them in that last reply had created a sensation among
the scouts. Indeed, even Thad was so astonished
that for the moment he could not find words in which
to continue the interesting conversation by fire.
Then his torch expired.
“Hurry Giraffe, and fetch me
that other light!” he called; but there was
hardly any need of saying this, because the party in
question was already advancing by kangaroo-like leaps,
covering ground in a manner simply miraculous.
“What was that last he said?”
he demanded, and Step Hen made haste to answer, partly
because he wanted to stagger the tall scout; and then
perhaps he realized that Giraffe would really give
them no peace until he was told:
“Said his name was Aleck Rawson remember
what Toby told us about the man who found the mine
long years ago! Well, this might happen to be
his boy, we think.”
“Keep still! Thad’s
going to talk some more!” grumbled Bumpus.
Again did the fire signaling go on;
and the new torch selected by the expert Giraffe proved
even better that the one that had burned out.
Letter by letter did Thad send a long message, and
Allan spelled it out as it progressed; so that by
the time it was completed every one knew just what
had been flashed upward toward the unseen receiving
party above.
“Can we get up to where you are?”
Now the fiery finger in the darkness
began to write an answer; every letter was plainly
carried out, so that not in a signal instance did
Thad “trip up” as he read it aloud.
“Yes, but come quick bring
rope might fall any minute!”
“I bet you he’s hanging
on to a little narrow shelf of rock!” declared
Bumpus.
“But if he is, how in the dickens
could he get the fire to signal with; that’s
what bothers me?” muttered Giraffe.
“Where are you?” signaled
the scoutmaster, promptly, thinking to get all the
information possible while the chance remained.
“On a ledge part way down the
cliff,” answered the one who had said his was
Aleck Rawson.
“How did you get there?” went on Thad.
“Lowered here, and left to die like a dog,”
came the stunning answer.
“Did you ever hear the equal
of that?” cried out Bumpus. “Now what
sort of people could ever be guilty of such a horrible
thing as that, I’d like to know?”
“Oh!” remarked the guide,
“they’s a heap of bad men around these
parts, I tell ye; but I got a notion I kin see through
a board that’s got a knot-hole in it. Ask
him who put him there, Mr. Scout Master, please?”
Thad would have done this, even though
Toby had not spoken; indeed, he was even then about
to start putting the question.
“Who put you there?”
“Colonel Knocker did will you come
and get me?”
“The old villain!” gasped
Bumpus. “He ought to be tarred and feathered
for such a wicked piece of work. What d’ye
suppose he did it for? I wonder now, if this
same Aleck Rawson could know anything about the secret
of that hidden mine; and Cracker-jack John just wants
to torture him till he tells?”
“That sounds like it, Bumpus;
you’re good at guessing things, after all,”
remarked Step Hen.
“Keep still, back there; Thad’s
sending another message!” warned Giraffe.
And in his steady way, the scoutmaster
went on to flash back the reassuring words:
“Yes, we will come to you.
Hold on! It may take us some time. Start
right away!”
“Thank you!” came from
above, and then the light that had moved backward
and forward, up and down, and around in eccentric circles,
vanished, as though with that last word the torch,
if that was what it was, had been exhausted.
But at least it had served long enough
to bear a startling message to the boys of the Silver
Fox Patrol, camping there in the valley of the great
Rockies.
“Now what?” exclaimed the impatient Giraffe.
Somehow, not one of them gave the
waiting supper a single thought just then; for this
new and exciting diversion had made them utterly forget
such a thing as being hungry.
“I want several of you to go
along with me,” said Thad; “Toby for one,
because of his strong arms, in case we have to do any
lifting; also Giraffe; and Allan, perhap you’d
like to be in the party also?”
“I certainly would,” declared
the Maine boy instantly; “if you think I can
be spared from the camp.”
“Oh!” said Thad, “they’ll
get on all right here, because every fellow will be
put on his honor not to stray away from the fire while
we’re gone. Bumpus, please let me have
that rope you carry with you. It’s proved
valuable several times already, and may come in all
right again.”
Bumpus had a very queer idea, in that
he persisted in carrying a thin, braided rope wrapped
around his body. It was of the sash cord species,
slender, but extra strong. Bumpus had seen the
great need of a rope once or twice, and made up his
mind that he would never be without one, when abroad
in the woods or wilderness. And it had proven
useful to him too; in fact, but for its possession
Bumpus might not have been there, so blithe and happy,
at that very moment. Having unfortunately become
mired in a slimy mudhole when lost in the big timber,
he was slowly sinking on account of his desperate
efforts to get out, when he happened to notice the
convenient limb of a tree just a couple of feet over
his head; and remembering his rope, he had thrown it,
doubled, over the same; and by making a tremendous
spurt, managed to drag his feet out of the sucking
mud, climbing to safety.
And of course after that nothing could
ever induce the fat scout to think of abandoning that
precious rope.
So he started to unwind it now; and
as if this might be a signal for some of the boys
to assist, they seized hold of Bumpus, pulling at the
rope, until they had him whirling around in a dizzy
fashion, protesting all the while, but without any
avail. Finally the rope was wholly unwound, and
Bumpus found himself sitting there on the ground,
with the stars waving in all sorts of queer circles
over his head, for he felt as “rocky”
as though he had been indulging in strong drink.
“But be awful careful
of that rope, won’t you, Thad?” he managed
to call out, as the scoutmaster started to coil it
up for carrying.
“I certainly will, Bumpus,”
replied the other; “and thank you for the loan
of it. Come on, those who are going with me; take
your guns along, even if we don’t find any use
for them. And say, you fellows in camp, save
our share of supper for us, remember!”