But I didn’t pay any attention to him, because I couldn’t speak—exactly. I didn’t seem to see any of the troop, I only just saw my mother standing, maybe kind of unsteady like, and listening to Jake Holden.
Then all of a sudden I walked straight over to where the Ravens were all sitting on the cabin roof. And I spoke to Wigley Wig-wag Weigand. I said—this is just what I said—I said, “Wig, I always claimed Ralph Warner was the best signaller in the troop and maybe you’ll remember I was mad when you got the badge. But now I ain’t mad, and I ain’t jealous, only I don’t want those men to go and tell my mother I’m dead—I—I don’t. I forgot to take the note away and they’re going to tell her and she—she has—her heart isn’t very strong like. There’s only one fellow in the troop can do it—it’s you. You can do it. You can do anything, signalling. I’ve got to admit it now, when I need you. You’re a Raven, but I want you to signal, quick. They’ll see it in town. You’re the only fellow can do it—you are. I got to admit it.”
He didn’t say much because he isn’t much on talking. He’s always studying the Handbook. But he jumped down and he just said, “I’ll fix it.”
And I knew he would.
CHAPTER IX
THE LAST LETTER
Then Elmer Sawyer (he’s a Raven) came up to me and said, “He’ll do it, Roy; don’t worry. And they’ll get it too, because everybody in town is out these nights looking at the searchlights down the Hudson.”
That was one lucky thing. A lot of cruisers and torpedo boats were down in the harbor and up the Hudson, and we could see their searchlights even in Bridgeboro.
Wig looked all around the cabin as if he was hunting for something and then he said, “No searchlight, I suppose.” If we had only had a searchlight it would have been easy, but there wasn’t any on board.
“Don’t you care,” Pee-wee said to me, “he’ll think of a way.” Oh, jiminy, but he was proud of Wig. I could see that Wig was thinking and for just a few seconds it seemed as if he couldn’t make up his mind what to do.
“Can you smudge it?” Connie Bennett asked.