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.