was sending a message like we do with the wigwag flags in the day time."

"Well, that's just what Giraffe is pretending to do, right now," said Thad, after he had taken one quick look. "Only instead of using flags, he's taking a light to make the letters with. Giraffe is a pretty good hand at heliograph work and all kinds of wigwagging, you know. I've talked with him by means of a piece of looking glass, on a sunshiny day, more than a mile away; and we managed to understand each other first-rate. Leave Giraffe alone, Step Hen. He's a nervous scout, you understand, and has to work off his steam some way. There couldn't be any better than brushing up his Morse code, I think."

"Huh! p'raps you're right," grunted the other; "but it does beat all, how Giraffe, always finds satisfaction in playing with fire."

"There's one good thing, about it these days," ventured Davy Jones.

"What might that be, suh?" asked the Southern boy, Bob White, looking up; for he was assisting to get supper ready.

"Why, we don't have to be afraid of Giraffe setting the woods on fire any more. It'd take a job bigger'n he could manage to get a fire goin' in this rocky valley," and Step Hen laughed as he said this; for indeed, the sparse and stunted trees that grew at intervals along the sides of the mountains did not seem to offer much encouragement to a would-be incendiary.

"How much longer do we have to wait for grub?" asked Bumpus, sighing dismally.

"What's that to you?" demanded Giraffe, from outside the limits of the camp proper; he having heard the plaint. "If you went without a bite for a week, sure, you could live on your fat, Bumpus; but think of me. Why, in two days' time my back-bone'd be rubbing up against my front ribs; and in another they would have a riot. I've got a space to fill all the time. Please hurry up, fellers. Somebody blow the fire, and make it cook faster, won't you?"

"You might be doing the same, Giraffe, 'stead of wastin' all your surplus energy aswipin' the empty air out there," called out Step Hen disdainfully, and yet with a slight touch of envy in his voice; for, truth to tell, he aimed to equal the proficiency of the lanky scout in the signal line.

So they went on exchanging remarks, as the minutes dragged slowly past, each seeming more like an hour to the half-starved boys. In vain did those who were doing the cooking tell them to keep their eyes anywhere but on the fire, because "a watched pot never boils."

But by slow degrees the supper was nearing readiness. Bumpus was even making his mouth give signs of his eagerness to begin; and some of the others had even taken up their tin platters hoping to be helped first, when Giraffe suddenly came jumping into camp, wildly excited.

Thad looked up from his writing, half expecting to see him followed by a savage mountain wolf, or possibly a full-grown grizzly bear; but to his astonishment the boy who carried the burning fagot of wood cried out as well as he could in his great excitement:

"Thad—Allan—look! look! somebody's making wigwag letters with a blaze like mine, away up yonder on the face of that high cliff; and I could read it, sure I could! And Thad, oh! what do you think, it keeps on sayin' the same thing over and over all the time, aspellin' out the one word: 'help! help! help!'"

The scoutmaster jumped to his feet instantly, ramming the note book deep down in his pocket as he grasped Giraffe eagerly by the arm, exclaiming:

"Come and show me what you mean! I hope you haven't mistaken a star for a torch!"

CHAPTER IV.

THE TORCH TALK.

Every one of the scouts was on his feet by this time, even fat Bumpus managing to struggle erect with the rest. And strange to say, the supper that was just about to be dished out was for the time being utterly swallowed up in this new and thrilling excitement.

They trooped after Thad and Giraffe, the latter still hanging on to his blazing torch. Toby was left alone by the fire; but after making sure that the supper was in no danger of burning up, the cool, level-headed guide followed his charges over to the spot where Giraffe had happened to be standing, when he noticed the odd signals from up on the face of the cliff.

"Where is it right now, Giraffe?" demanded Davy Jones.

"Nothin' doin'!" added Step Hen, in disgust. "Now what d'ye think of that? The feller had his own eyes blinded by whirling his old blaze around so much, that he just thought he glimpsed another light up there. Say, p'raps Thad hit the thing on the head when he mentioned a star. Like as not now, Giraffe, he just saw one peepin' over the top of the mountains at him, and thought it winked. Well, this takes the cake; and all that fine supper gettin' cold while we're gaping out here. It's a burnin' shame, that's what it is. Me for the fire again."

"Wait!" said Thad, in that tone of authority that always found ready respect from the scouts under him; it was the scoutmaster, and not their chum, who spoke, whenever Thad used that very stern voice.

"Give you my word for it, Thad, I saw it again and again," Giraffe went on, as if he felt that his veracity as a scout was hanging in the balance.

"Point out the exact place," said Thad, promptly.

"I can do it all right, and don't you forget it, Step Hen," declared the tall scout, eagerly; and accordingly, raising his torch, he held it stationary at an angle of nearly forty-five degrees.

"Right there she was, Thad; and if you look close now, p'raps you c'n see a sorter glow like," he went on, again showing excitement.

"I believe I do," replied Thad. "Here, give me that torch of yours, Giraffe."

"What are you goin' to do, Thad?" asked the other, even while he complied with the request, which was in the shape of a command.

"Try and see if I can get a raise again."

As Thad said this he started to wave the torch in several ways. Now he lifted it and lowered it rapidly; then it went out at an angle; and followed with several circles, or possibly a diagonal dash.

And Giraffe saw that he was spelling out the word:

"Hello!"

Eagerly they waited to see the result.

As the last letter was formed, and the wind-up sign made to indicate the message had been completed, to the astonishment of most of the boys there was a sudden response. Away up on the face of what seemed to be a high cliff a light appeared, and began to cut strange figures and lines in the air, as an arm swung it to and fro. And Thad, as he started to read the letters, realized that whoever it might be trying to get in communication with those in the valley, he certainly knew his Morse code all right; indeed a regular telegrapher and wigwag artist belonging to the Signal Corps of the United States Army could hardly have shown more proficiency in the business.

Regularly then, without a hitch, the fiery finger outlined against the dark background spelled out the significant word:

"Help!"

Thad read each letter aloud, for the benefit of those among the scouts who, not being so well along in the work, might have some difficulty in following those wizard flashes to and fro, up and down, and around.

"Just like I said, ain't it, Thad?" breathed Giraffe, as if he felt that his reputation, assailed by Step Hen, had been fully vindicated; but the scoutmaster did not bother answering his question, since he had his mind wholly bent upon solving the mystery of the mountains.

Again he started making erratic movements with the torch he gripped in his right hand; and the staring Giraffe read what the patrol leader