“Frieda!” gasped the excited girl, “somebody’s coming!”
“Sh!” warned the other, rushing towards the window. “Don’t scream! Oh, how shall we get their attention?” she looked wildly about the room for inspiration.
“There—get that red table-cover, and I’ll wave it!” commanded Marjorie. “Oh, Frieda, look—he has a uniform! It’s khaki color! Oh, if it—if it could be—Frieda, It’s a Boy Scout!”
No discovery could possibly have brought a greater thrill to these desolate prisoners. For surely this meant delivery from captivity, freedom! If they could only attract his attention!
The canoe came nearer; they watched it in breathless suspense, both leaning far out of the window, and waving their arms, their red table-cover, even the ties of their uniforms. Fortunately, being a canoeist, the stranger approached them face to face; had he been rowing a boat, all their hopes of securing his attention would have been lost.
In spite of their wild attempts to attract his notice, the boy continued to look into the water until he advanced to within twenty yards of the house. But suddenly from the tree near by sounded the clear call of a king-fisher; and instantly he looked up toward the house. He missed the bird, but caught sight of the two girls, frantically signalling.
Frieda instantly put her finger to her lips, while Marjorie spelled out the word HELP in semaphore.
The boy stopped paddling, and wrinkled his forehead in uncertainty. What was the meaning of this? Had he read the message aright?
Assured now of the scout’s interest, Marjorie began to send a longer message, to explain her meaning at length.
“We are two Girl Scouts held prisoners here. Please bring help. Not a word.”