Gordon made a bee-line through the woods in the direction of the hill, and presently overtook several of the boys, one of whom carried a lantern. When they reached the brow of the eminence, they found that preparations, under Al’s direction, were rapidly going forward. A lone sapling stood on the summit, and about ten feet from this they had planted a pole eight or nine feet high, steadying it by lines running diagonally to the ground and attached to pegs. From the top of this pole to a branch equally high on the sapling ran a stout line on which had been placed two metal rings (evidently all that were available), and some of the boys were now busily binding willow withes around the line, so that presently the rope had half a dozen rings of one sort or another encircling it. The moon had gone behind clouds which were fast covering the sky, and the boys worked almost wholly by the light of their lantern. But they worked rapidly, and within a few minutes a large square of tent canvas had been hung from the line, thus forming a curtain which could be shifted back and forth. Its position, facing a little north of east, was determined by the compass, and was, of course, accurate so far as compass points were concerned. But whether Harry Arnold was precisely northeast, or precisely east, and just how far and in just what direction, there was no telling.
Gordon looked down from the hill, over the low-lying woods which stretched eastward, a little north of where he had found his way through. He thought he could discern a shadowy mass which seemed to appear and then dissolve in the distance, and which he took to be Dibble Mountain. And beneath him he saw a faint gray band which he knew to be the road. This, he now knew, inscribed a great curve through the woods and came out about a quarter of a mile above his intended meeting-place with Arnold. He meant, as soon as this signaling was finished, to set forth along the road toward Dibble Mountain.
As he watched the rapid and rather elaborate preparations, he became conscious of a feeling of responsibility and accompanying apprehension that he might be held accountable in some degree if the signal failed to bear results. So troubled was he that he did not at once notice the boy who was kneeling behind the canvas and littering the ground about him with burned matches.
“Will you let me try it?” said Gordon, finally, coming out of his absorption.
“Sure,” answered the boy, rising with alacrity.
Gathering a number of chips which had been scattered by the ax in trimming the pole, Gordon knelt, crunched a piece of paper into a little, loose wad, and quickly, daintily constructed a tiny pyramid around and above it. Over this pyramid he made a larger one, keeping by the necessary fuel for one still larger. The process reminded one of the wooden egg enclosed by a larger one, and that by a still larger one, often seen at Easter time.
Now his small hands formed a partial dome over the outer pyramid; now there came a crackling and a little smoke, now the third pyramid was quickly built over the second, and Gordon watched it intently while a few little snakes of flame squirmed out from their inner cage. He paid no heed to the admiring comments of the boys about him. Like a true artist, his mind was fixed upon his task, not upon his audience. Now his hand groped behind him for some larger twigs. One or two he threw away (the boys did not know why). With those which met his approval still another pyramid was formed to receive the flames which were now escaping freely from the third pyramid. For a moment he studied the little mass intently, holding several sticks in his left hand. The thought came over him that presently his fire would flash the first sign in a message to his friend, somewhere beyond those thick woods, waiting, or perhaps searching, in the darkness. And oh, how he hoped the fire would be seen, but scarcely dared to hope it would be understood.
Presently, satisfied, he rose, and pulling an apple from his pocket refreshed himself with a gigantic bite.
“You’re all right,” said the tall Al, slapping him on the shoulder. Gordon smiled his broadest scout smile, with unconcealed pleasure at the older boy’s praise. He was the smallest boy in the group, and there was something about him which drew the others irresistibly to him.
“You’re a wonder!” shouted one, with genuine enthusiasm.
“That’s nothing,” said Gordon, as he took another huge bite. I do not know where he got the apple.
The fire was now coming on famously. “Pull her over,” called a boy, grabbing the curtain. “Never mind the regular call signal—let’s begin and run her across the flame quick for four or five minutes—that’ll do to attract attention.”
This advice was taken, for all the nice points and rules of the Morse signal code cannot be observed with a bonfire on a hilltop. They pulled the curtain rapidly from side to side, alternately revealing and concealing the blaze, and skillfully relieving each other from time to time, for it required some strength and a good deal of agility.
As Gordon stood watching them, he was roused by a light hand on his shoulder and turned to find Mr. Wade standing by his side.
“You mustn’t expect too much of your friend,” he said in a kind of reassuring tone. “It’s possible he’ll see this, but there’s many a slip, you know, betwixt the cup and the lip. Anyway, it won’t be his fault.”
“He can do ’most anything, sir,” said Gordon, earnestly. “Honest, he can. If he only sees it he’ll—”
“Yes, of course,” said Mr. Wade; “and this is good practice for the boys, anyway.”
“But I’m going to start along toward Dibble Mountain just as soon as they get through this. He must have been waiting a couple of hours already.”
“Better stay with us till morning,” said Mr. Wade; “you’ve done enough for one night.”
Just then Al came up to ask about Walter Lee, the injured boy.
“He’s doing well,” said the scoutmaster. “The wound isn’t deep, and seems to be clean, thanks to our young runner here. It bled a good deal, though, and his ankle is strained. The bridge was tampered with, and he must have gone down as soon as he set foot on it. I was wondering who those fellows were who dropped in on us the other day. Walter’s pockets were empty; he says he had forty dollars. I’ve sent Winthrop and John down to Ti to notify the authorities and get a doctor. I guess they can pick their way there all right; I told them not to try any Gordon Lord short-cuts. Walter’ll be all right. Here, Frank,” he called, “let Al stand near you with the message in code form. Let’s see that. That’s all right. Now, just call the code signs and cross them off as they’re shown—something may come of this yet.”
He started for the camp again, and it seemed to Gordon that he took but secondary interest in the signaling. He did not know whether to be glad or sorry for this skepticism. He felt that if the plan failed to carry, as he feared it would, it would be well to have the head of the camp there to acquit Harry of any blame. Gordon did not give a serious thought to the impression he might have made in this strange camp; but he was very jealous for Harry’s reputation, especially after the puff he had given it, and he wanted more than he could tell to have his friend do the improbable and make good. He had an unselfish and unqualified admiration for Harry, and he was sorely troubled now lest his hero fail in the face of these Albany scouts.
The first letter of the message had been stamped upon the darkness when Gordon came out of his preoccupation, and he watched the rest of the work with keen and nervous interest.
“Haul her over, Bill—now back again—cross off your dot, Al—wait a second now—let her go again—that’s the ticket. Hold on now—three seconds—there you are. Now show her for two even spaces; now wait—three seconds—don’t be in too much of a hurry; he’ll wait if he sees it. Let her go again—quick now—do this one careful. Read her off, Al, wake up—short flash—wait—long flash—wait, wait! Another long flash now—wait—now a short one. There you are, fellows, printed right plank against the side of old Dibble Mountain, C-A-M-P! Hurrah for the Raven signal corps!”
All this involved a good deal of exercise on the part of several boys, but nothing happened as a result. Gordon did not exactly expect anything to happen, but it seemed like a good deal of energy wasted.
On the hilltop all was bustle and excitement, but the dark woods below and beyond, and the open lowland stretching farther still to the shore of the great lake, took not the slightest notice. Gordon looked over Al’s shoulder at the message. They had not done one-tenth of it. He wondered how the flashes would look from a distance and thought how much concentration of mind it would require to make head or tail of it. Though he was a scout of the scouts, he found that he had to strain his faith a little to believe that anything could really come of this. And he was conscious of almost a feeling of regret that he had given quite such a glowing account of Harry.
A fresh relay of boys had started the second word.
“Wake up, Al—spin her off!”
“Four short flashes,” said Al.
“Four it is; here she goes—over and back—over and back—wait!”
“One short,” called Al.
“That’s E—now for the next.”
“Short, long, short,” called Al.
“Pull her over, Ed—now back—now a long one—shut her off! Now a short one. Next letter, Al.”
“Short flash.”
“Correct for Albert. Over and back—seat your partner!”
“Camp here!” shouted a boy, enthusiastically.
Thus the work went cheerfully on. It required pr............