“We might signal to each other just for fun,” Polly suggested. “You could wave the signal three times at noon and again just before you start for home, and I’ll watch for it. But if you set up the pole with the signal fastened to it, and don’t wave at all, I’ll know that means ‘Soldiers on the road,’” said Polly. “You won’t be so lonely if you can signal me,” she added; and Roxy promptly declared that she was not lonely; that “Lee” and “Jackson” and “Dinah” were the best of company.
“And having the pony makes a lot of difference, Polly. Just think when I do see the soldiers I can get home so quickly and tell Father,” she said; and then she showed Polly the tiny house she had made for “Dinah,” building up three walls of flat stone and making a roof of twigs and oak-leaves. “And the squirrels like it, too; they run in and out as if they thought I had made it for them,” Roxy said; and Polly declared the little house to be perfect, and again praised Roxy for keeping watch so steadily.
“It’s just like being a real soldier on guard, Roxy,” she said, and Roxy smiled happily; but Polly’s next words made her smile vanish. “If the armies don’t come at night,” Polly added thoughtfully.
“You don’t suppose they will, Polly? Oh! What would we do?” said Roxy, nearly ready to cry at the thought that, after all, she might not be of any use to the Union cause or to her soldier father.
“I suppose if the Confederates were on the march at night they’d ride straight on toward Washington; they wouldn’t stop at all, and perhaps that would be the best for all of us,” Polly said gravely. “But if they march by day you’ll see them, Roxy, and signal me and Mother and I will start off with the horses.”
This satisfied Roxy, and she bade Polly a cheerful good-bye, and that night waved her white signal as they had agreed before she mounted “Beauty” and trotted down the slope toward home.
For several days Roxy signalled as Polly had suggested, played with “Dinah” and the squirrels, and won the friendship of a handsome squawking blue jay who began to share her luncheon with the squirrels, and would scold noisily if he was not promptly attended to. And then, on the afternoon of September thirteenth, came the adventure that Roxy would never forget. She was waving her good-night signal to Polly when a firm grasp on her arm made her drop the stick to which the white signal was fastened and call out in fear as she looked up to find a stranger in worn butternut-colored clothing standing beside her.
“What’s all this?” he asked gruffly. “I’ve had my eye on this signalling for two days; what does it mean?”
For a moment Roxy was too frightened to answer, and the man’s voice softened as he realized that the little girl was staring at him in evident terror.
“Don’t be afraid. I only want to know why you come to this ledge every day and signal. I reckon somebody is watching out for those signals, eh?” and a little smile crept over his grim face as Roxy nodded in response.