His activity was rewarded at last, and he stood on a limb which gave him a free and uninterrupted view of the country for miles around. There was no moon, but the sky was clear, and countless stars served to brighten the early night. Far to the westward the clouds were still red from the setting sun.
Eagerly the youth turned to where he imagined the camp-fire of the pioneers must be located. Not a single light came to view, either camp-fire or lantern.
“That is certainly queer,” he told himself. “Not a flare of any kind.”
The thought had scarcely crossed his mind when his attention was attracted to a location about half a mile to the northward of the camp. The light of a torch had blazed forth and was now revolving rapidly in a semicircle.
“An Indian signal,” he muttered softly. “I wish I knew what it meant.”
The light was waved in a semicircle for fully half a minute. Then it bobbed up and down twice and vanished.
Scarcely had this light gone from view than Harry noticed another light, this time on the other side of the pioneers’ camp. This new light was bobbing up and down at a rapid rate, making it look almost like a streak of fire. Then it changed from side to side, and then to a circle. Inside of three minutes it was gone.
“If one could only read the Indian signs it might prove a big help,” mused the boy. “Perhaps I had better stay up here to-night and see if any more signs are made. Then, if we get back to camp in the morning, I can ask old Pep Frost what they mean.”
He sat in a crotch of the limb for the best part of half an hour. The position was far from comfortable, and he was on the point of changing it when he heard a noise some distance below.
“Is that you coming up, Joe?” he asked softly.