With a strong twist of his tanned hands he set the Kullibígan revolving; it spun itself dizzy and fell between Sally and Arline.
“Never mind; we’ll try again; best two out of three!” cried the Scout. “Now, then, old top, spin your durndest. Tell us who digs up a fortune from the sands!”
The Kullibígan answered his appeal, thrilled him with a half-superstitious tingle from neck to heel by sprawling over toward him.
“Again! Again! Once more!”
It fell precipitately toward Morning-Glory, turned a somersault and stood upon its head.
“Well! it has given me one chance to come in on the treasure, anyhow.” Thus Kenjo, crestfallen over its last dizzy feat, consoled himself. “Stack an’ I’ll dig; you bet we’ll dig; we’ll take Toiney into the secret. I believe he’d scent a coin as he scents a spring a mile off!”
“Who’s Toiney!” For the last minute the girls had sat very still, not a leather fringe stirring; now they spoke again.
“Toiney! Oh! he’s an Assistant Scoutmaster who gives us lessons in wood-lore and in tracking an’ trailing; he’s a French Canadian, with a strain of Indian in him. Well!” Kenjo heaved a long breath. “He’ll be organizing a search party to look for us—if he hasn’t done so already. He’s the stuff, although I guess you girls would call him queer stuff!”
“Are you going to try to signal to the opposite dunes to let them know you’re safe?” asked the Camp Fire Girl whose name meant Peace.
“I’m not going to ‘try.’ I’m going to do it, signal by semaphore code the word ‘Safe,’ if Captain Andy can let me have a couple of camp lanterns—that is, if I can make ’em see me at our camp, get their attention!”