CHAPTER XII
THE LONG ARM OF THE SCOUT
As Tom spoke, there came rushing into Roy's memory as vivid as the searchlight's shaft, a certain dark night a year before when Tom Slade, hoodlum, had stood by his side and with eyes of wonder watched him flash a message from Blakeley's Hill to the city below to undo a piece of vicious mischief of which Tom had been guilty. He had turned the heavens into an open book for Westy Martin, miles away, to read what he should do.
A thrill of new hope seized Roy.
"So you see it will be you, Roy."
"It has to be you to remind me of it."
"Shut up!" said Tom.
They ran for the boat at top speed, for, as they both realized, it was largely a fight against time.