out the one word: 'help! help! help!'"

The scoutmaster jumped to his feet instantly, ramming the note book deep down in his pocket as he grasped Giraffe eagerly by the arm, exclaiming:

"Come and show me what you mean! I hope you haven't mistaken a star for a torch!"

CHAPTER IV.

THE TORCH TALK.

Every one of the scouts was on his feet by this time, even fat b.u.mpus 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:

"h.e.l.lo!"

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, a.s.sailed 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."