“Hoist your hands!” ordered Pete warningly.
Tom obeyed, though he hoisted his hands only as far as his mouth. Forming a megaphone, he gave vent to a loud yell of:
“Roo-rup! roo-rup! roo-rup!”
It was one of the old High School yells of the good old Gridley days—-one of the yells sometimes used as a signal of distress by famous old Dick & Co., of which Tom Reade had been a shining member.
On the still air of the mountain night that yell traveled far and clearly. It was a call of penetrating power, traveling farther than its sound would suggest.
“You do that again, you young coyote, and I’ll begin to pump!” growled Bad Pete savagely.
“I won’t need to do it again,” Tom returned. “Wait a few minutes, and you’ll see.”
“Shall I drop him, Black?” inquired Pete.
’Gene Black was about to answer in the affirmative, when a sound up the trail caught his attention.
“There’s someone coming,” snarled Black, using his keen powers of hearing.