Following a saw-tooth course to keep an eye on both sides of the range, the Loon had advanced along the Herchmers only a few miles when Mr. Mackworth’s camp was suddenly made out far down the western mountain side in the timber. Several hundred feet above it Mr. Mackworth, Captain Ludington, Jake Green and the two guides were seen standing on the barren slope violently waving their arms.
“There’s no white flag,” said Frank. “That means no landing. We’re to go back. But I wish we could talk to ’em. Say,” he exclaimed. “Write ’em a note. Tell ’em where we’ve been and what we did.”
Lord Pelton grasped the opportunity and, while Frank began circling about the upgazing persons, the Englishman filled a page of his memorandum book with an account of the trip to “Baldy’s Bench.” Finding no small weight in the cabin Lord Pelton tied the note and a silver dollar in his handkerchief and, the next time the Loon passed over the group, dropped the message.
Anxious to see the effect of the note, Frank continued the eaglelike swoops of the monoplane while his English companion lay on the floor with his head in the open port. Before the message had been read the latter reported that Skinner was on a run to the camp below. Then Frank could see the old hunter returning with a package. Mr. Mackworth read Lord Pelton’s few words and immediately threw his hat in the air. “Grizzly” Hosmer expressed his feelings by rapidly discharging his rifle. Then Mr. Mackworth was seen to grasp Skinner’s package and, in a few seconds, its contents had turned into a long, jointed trout rod. He waved it in the air.
“He means for us to return to the ranch and go fishing,” called out the Englishman.
“I think not,” answered Frank. “He has an idea. Look!”
Captain Ludington with a bit of paper on his knee was writing something.
“It’s an answer,” exclaimed Frank. “They’re going to put it on the pole. They want us to catch it. Can you do it?”