The effect of the signal was instantaneous. A figure half arose and dropped back again, only to roll over and over in the direction from which had come the Boy Scout signal used by all members of the Wolf Patrol. As the bound figure came awkwardly rolling on, Jimmie saw, with what joy may be readily understood, a red head shining in the firelight! Never in all his life had any color looked so good to Jimmie as that brilliant red did at that time!
"Pat Mack?" he whispered.
The figure wiggled and twisted vigorously, but there was no verbal reply.
"I'll bet dollars to doughnuts they've put a stick in his mouth," said Jimmie, and this whispered observation was answered by another muscular demonstration.
"Sure," muttered the boy, "it is Pat an' he's tryin' to talk to me with his feet, an' them tied up plenty!"
Bolo in hand he crept into the shelter, although the sound of voices told him that the people who had gone down the hill were now returning. He could not see the cords which held the still struggling man, but he found them with his fingers and cut them, not quite certain that he was serving a friend, but willing, under the circumstances, to take the risk. First the cords which held the feet were severed, then those which held the wooden gag in place, then that which confined the hands.
When this last cord was cut two muscular arms flew up and seized the boy about the neck, drawing his head down until his nose was buried in the wet clothes of the man he had released.
"Let up!" he muttered in a smothered voice.
Still the powerful arms drew him down, and the boy was beginning to wonder if he had not better use his bolo when a voice whispered:
"Jimmie! Is it dead we both are?"