“Listen! There he is now!” Martin cried. Chairs were pushed back—the three men were on their feet.
“What's he sending?” questioned MacVightie instantly.
The Hawk scowled at the disturbance, as, over their voices, he concentrated his attention upon the sounder. He wrote steadily on:
“... huwkmuh hdtlqgvh...
“Same as usual,” Martin replied. “Just a jumble of letters.”
“Well then, get ready to throw that ground, or whatever you call it, into him!” ordered MacVightie tensely.
“I'm ready,” said Martin.
“All right then—now!”
The Hawk nodded to himself, as his pencil unflaggingly noted down letter after letter. The sounder was very perceptibly stronger.
“West!” Martin cried out. “You noticed the difference in strength, didn't you? He's somewhere between here and Selkirk. That's——”