"Do you mean the fire, Toby?" demanded Step Hen.

"It cain't be anything else, even though they've let it get low. And now we've a job afore us, to get some blaze started right here. Wood ain't too plenty round these parts. Let's look for some."

But when Step Hen started after him, the guide made him sit down to rest, promising to come to him when the fire was good and ready.

"Your part of the work will begin about that time; let me do this fire makin'," the good-hearted guide insisted; and the boy was only too willing to sink down.

A short time afterwards, when Toby came to announce that the fire was in full blast, with plenty of good brands that might be used for torches; he found poor Step Hen sound asleep, just as he had dropped, being utterly exhausted. The guide looked down at him with pity. He had taken a great fancy for the plucky scout; and disliked arousing him the worst kind; but there was no other way.

Step Hen had to be shaken half a dozen times before he would consent to open his heavy eyes; then he stared up at Toby, as though for the moment he could not place things.

"I got the fire started; and there's aplenty of wood handy arter all, for you to use as torches when you signal the camp!" said the guide, kindly.

"Oh!" cried Step Hen sitting up, "to be sure; and I really think I must have been dozing while you were doing all the work, Toby. Give me a hand, won't you, please; I'm ashamed to say my legs seem so silly stiff at the knees I just can't straighten 'em out? Wow! to think of me being such a baby as to feel that little circus this way. I'm real ashamed, that's what."

"You ain't got no call to be, I promise you, boy," declared the other, a tremor in his voice; "You showed the pluck of a grown man. And if I could a took yer place, which in course I couldn't, never havin' been trained to wigwag, or handle a telegraph key, I'd sure let you sleep on; for ye desarve it, that's right."

Step Hen made a few movements, regardless of the pain it gave him, so as to get his arms in working order; because he knew he would have to use them a great deal, if he were lucky enough to get an answer to his signals.

The guide showed him where to stand, where he would be in the shadow, and the blazing, moving torch show; and he then pointed out the distant fire, down through the gap in the mountain chain.

"They ain't touched it since we kim here," he remarked; "but that makes me think it might be done any minit now. So p'raps ye'd better show me the way to fling that there torch around, to let 'em know we're here, an' wantin' to talk. I kin do that part, I reckons, an'

save you some work."

Step Hen was agreeable, for he knew that he would have all he could do later on, to handle that beacon, should he find a chance to send the message he wanted the scoutmaster to get.

For some time Toby waved his torch around without there being any response; and it began to look as though he might have all his trouble for his pains, when Step Hen was heard to give a little eager cry.

"There!" he exclaimed, "I believe I saw a light move, just then. Yes, look, Toby, there it is again; and as sure as you live, they're answering us! Now, give me the torch. I only hope I haven't forgotten all I knew about sending messages, because all poor Aleck's hopes for his future may hang on my being able to warn them the sheriff and old Artemus Rawson are heading that way. Now watch close, Toby! I'm going to start in."

CHAPTER XIX.

THE WARNING.

Step Hen was all of a tremble when he first began to handle that burning splinter of wood, provided by Toby Smathers, to serve as a fiery pen; and with which he hoped to write letters in the dark background he had chosen for his location.

Just as he had himself declared, regretfully now, Step Hen had never been a shining light in this code business. Indeed, up to lately, he had rather considered the whole thing something of a great bore; and when ordered out on the hills to wave signal flags, he had only obeyed under protest. There had been plenty of things he much preferred to this sort of detail work.

But after seeing how successfully a method of communication had been established between the scouts in camp, and Aleck, when the latter was being held a prisoner up on that shelf of rock, Step Hen had had his eyes opened. He realized what a really valuable thing a little knowledge along these lines was apt to prove, at most any time. And he had then and there resolved to improve his scanty share of information whenever the chance came.

Right now he was secretly glad that since that occasion he had been asking some questions along the line of acquiring information. He had even had half an hour's practice with Thad, early in the morning, sending and receiving messages.

How fortunate that was, Step Hen reflected, just now, when he found himself placed in a position where a knowledge of wigwag work was going to prove of the utmost importance to the boy whom the scouts had taken in charge.

At the same time it was with considerable nervousness that he started in to ask his first question. He meant to inquire if the one answering him were Thad himself; but when he had made the last letter of the message Step Hen was afraid it might seem so bungled that all he would receive might be the well-known signal:

"Don't understand--repeat message!"

But to his delight there came the three letters:

"Yes."

Encouraged by this, Step Hen became more ambitious. He spelled out his own name, and added a few more words:

"This is Step Hen--something important!"

Then he almost held his breath as he waited to see what effect this would have. The answer began to come back, slowly and positively, Thad allowing plenty of time for the other to make sure of every sign. And staring eagerly, unconsciously spelling aloud just as he received the message, Step Hen caught this:

"All right--understand--let us have news."

"It's going splendidly, Toby!" cried Step Hen, almost ready to jump up and down, in his excitement and joy, despite his wearied condition.

"Thad's taking it, word for word. I reckon I c'n make him understand _something_, even if I am such a big bungler at this thing. But I tell you right now, after this I'm going in for wigwag work the hardest you ever saw. It's the greatest stunt a scout can follow up. Why, it's worth everything else at such a time as this. Now to tell him about the two men headed that way, and how they're after Aleck Rawson."

With that Step Hen once more applied himself to the task before him.

His heart was set on doing something that the scoutmaster would compliment him on when next they met. Step Hen had aroused himself to the fact that an occasion like this demanded that a scout should prove his worth. It might mean a merit medal for him, if his services were deemed of sufficient value.

Toby, seeing that the torch would not be likely to last out the labored conversation that was to follow, busied himself in getting another ready. As he was as good a hand at a fire as Giraffe, this did not prove a heavy task.

Meanwhile Step Hen kept on sending his messages in short, jerky sentences. He lacked confidence in himself, and dared not launch boldly forth in a description of the strange thing that had happened since the four of them had made camp, after their big-horn hunt. When he had spelled a sentence he would almost invariably add the query, "understand?" meaning to repeat if the answer came in the negative.

But Thad was an expert at this sort of work, and could puzzle out the meaning of what Step Hen so blunderingly sent, almost as though he might be a mind reader.

"Two men came into our camp after dark!" went the opening message.

"Yes," Thad replied, briefly, and evidently not meaning to say anything calculated to confuse the signal sender.

"One a sheriff, name Bob McNulty."

"Yes."

"Other older man,--name Artemus Rawson.--Get that?"

There was a little interval at that. Perhaps Thad might be figuring it out; or he may have mentioned the name aloud, and be speaking with some one who was near by, possibly asking Aleck if he recognized the name.

"Yes," came the flash, presently.

Step Hen had begun to grow cold. He felt that if he once found himself cornered, and making mistakes, he was apt to get rattled in his excitement, and forget the little he really did know about sending and receiving. So when Thad replied that he had grasped even that name, the sender found himself imbued with another relay of confidence. When he started in once more, he sent a little faster, though the scoutmaster at the first opportunity warned him to go slow and sure.

"Say looking for Aleck--that he has robbed uncle--headed down valley when left here--Understand that?"

"Yes, but not so fast. Go on," came the reply.

Step Hen understood that Thad gave him this warning, not because he was himself unable to receive at that rate, for he had seen the patrol leader and Allan go smoothly along at twice the pace. He was thinking of Step Hen, for he knew what was apt to happen if once the other overstepped the bounds, and muddled himself up; as like as not he would get his signals mixed, and after that be utterly unable to send coherently.

"Be with you by morning--we think they suspect Aleck there--you know what to do."