Puff! A longer period of smoking by the chimney—then two sharp puffs.
"That's L," interpreted the leader of the Eagles. Before they could say a word the chimney took up its message once more.
Puff—a long puff—another long one, and then a short one.
"Dot—dash—dash—dot," exclaimed Rob.
"That's the letter P," put in Merritt.
"That's right, old man," shouted Rob, slapping him on the back, "and we've found Joe Digby. That smoke signal spelled Help in the Morse code."
"You're right," shouted Merritt, "come on, Cap, come on, boys, we've got to get a move on and get it on quick!"
They dashed toward the dinghy and a few seconds later had once more embarked and were speeding toward the desolate and forsaken bungalow. Somehow they managed to get ashore in the dinghy without anyone being spilled over the side in their desperate hurry and a minute later were pounding at the door.
"Joe—Joe Digby," shouted Rob in a strange, strained voice.
"Here," came back the answer in a feeble tone, "oh, boys, I'm glad you've come."