The other messenger was Elmer Roslyn, a youth of seventeen, a native of Oakland, absent with his father in the Continental Army, those two being the only members of their family who escaped an Indian massacre that had burst upon the lovely settlement some months before.
It was agreed that whoever first reached the mountain crest should signal to the other by means of a small fire—large enough merely to send up a slight vapor that would show against the blue sky beyond.
The keen eyes of Talbot Frost roved along the rugged mountain-ridge a couple of miles distant, in search of the tell-tale signal. They followed the craggy crest a long distance to the north and south of the point where Roslyn had promised to appear, but the clear summer air was unsustained by the least semblance of smoke or vapor. The day itself was of unusual brilliancy, not the least speck of a cloud being visible in the tinted sky.
“That Elmer Roslyn is a powerful pert young chap,” said the border scout to himself. “I don’t think I ever seed his ekal, and he can fight in battles jes’ like his father, Captain Mart, that I’ve heerd Gineral Washington say was one of the best officers he’s got; but thar’s no sense in his puttin’ himself agin an old campaignor like me. I don’t s’pose he’s within twenty mile of Oakland yit, and he won’t have a chance to kindle that ere signal fire afore to-morrer. So I’ll start mine, and in case he should accidentally reach the mountain-top over yender afore sundown, why he’ll see what a foolish younker he was to butt agin me.”
Talbot Frost knew that despite the perils through which he had forced his way to this spot, the greatest danger, in all probability, lay in the brief space separating him from Fort Defiance in the middle of the valley.
It was necessary, therefore, to use great care lest the signal fire should attract the attention of unfriendly eyes.
“I’ll start a small one,” he said, beginning to gather some dry twigs, “just enough for Elmer to obsarve by sarchin’—by the great Gineral Washington!”
To explain this exclamation of the old scout, I must tell you that before applying the flint and tinder to the crumpled leaves, Talbot Frost glanced across the opposite mountain-crest, two miles away.
As he did so he detected a fine, wavy column of smoke climbing from the rocks and trees. It was so faint that it was not likely to attract notice, unless a suspicious eye happened to look toward that part of the sky.
“By gracious! It’s him!” he exclaimed, closing his mouth and resuming command of himself. “That ere young Roslyn is pearter than I thought; if he keeps on at this rate by the time he reaches my years he’ll be the ekal of me—almost. Wall, I’ll have to answer him; when we meet I’ll explanify that I give him up, and didn’t think it was wuth while to start a blaze.”