better,” was Hugh’s brief comment, at which his admirer glowed with pleasure. Praise from Hugh, who was usually so reserved, was rare indeed!

Just as they were practicing swift dives, a bugle call rang clear and full across the water.

“The ‘recall’,” gasped Billy. “Wonder what’s doing?”

“That means everybody report at once,” said Don Miller, leader of the Fox patrol. “Back to shore, fellows.”

“Hit her up, son!” added Walter, and, suiting his action to his words, he slid rapidly through the clear water, leaving a wake of swirling ripples.

As soon as the swimmers reached shore, they hurried to their respective cabins, dressed, attended to their beds, and then repaired to the larger log-house, where a bountiful breakfast was served. During the meal the talk was all of the eagerly anticipated meeting of the patrols, and everyone wondered why it had been called.

Mess over, Don Miller and Walter Osborne took their stand at either side of the cabin door, and as each boy passed out he saluted the two chiefs with the scout’s salute, and was saluted in return. This was a point of etiquette upon which Lieutenant Denmead, who was a retired officer of the United States Army, always insisted, believing that it did much to maintain discipline and to instill the scout virtues of courtesy and of respect for superior officers.

CHAPTER II.
FORMING THE SIGNAL CORPS.

A cheer, heartier and more informal than military, rose from forty throats, as Lieutenant Denmead and Assistant Scout Master Rawson came forth from their quarters to break the news to the assembled boys.

“Scouts of Pioneer Camp,” began the lieutenant, smiling, when silence had been restored, “I have called this meeting in order to lay before you a plan which I think will merit your approval.

“Most of you have heard that in two weeks there are to be National Guard maneuvers over in Oakvale and the adjoining meadows, not far from here?”

A murmur of assent greeted this question, and the Scout Master continued:

“Part of these maneuvers will be the work of a carefully trained and efficient signal corps, and you boys will undoubtedly be interested in seeing that, among the other events. To understand it thoroughly, you should have some practical knowledge of the system of signaling; that is, the semaphore signal code, the wig-wag or Myer code, and the sound codes. You should know how to send and receive messages by each and all of these three methods. Such knowledge may be of great use and benefit to you or to others, at any time.

“In your woodcraft games, in trailing and stalking, in hunting, you have learned the various signals used in Indian warfare, the signs and blazes along a forest trail. Some of you are familiar with the Morse telegraph alphabet, and every tenderfoot who does not know it must learn it, in order to qualify as a second class scout.

“Now, what I propose to do is this: Let us form a signal corps made up of scouts from our four patrols, who can show by superior skill that they can qualify. Proficiency in any branch of scout-craft, in any of our games or pursuits (but particularly in the art of signaling) counts in determining who shall join the corps.

“The number of points or ‘honors’ won by each scout makes his record. From each patrol two boys who have made the best records will be chosen, and the leader of the corps will be the scout who has scored the greatest number of points.”

Lieutenant Denmead paused, and his clear gray eyes roved searchingly over the group.

“Have I made all this clear?” he added. “Any questions?”

There was a moment’s silence, while the boys exchanged eager glances among themselves.

“How does the plan appeal to you?” asked Lieutenant Denmead.

Another cheer greeted this question, showing the degree of interest felt by the majority. Many of the boys were enthusiastic; a few, whose interests lay in less serious sport, such as water games, canoeing, fishing, photography, field-day events, etc., rejoiced in it chiefly because their prowess in such activities would be counted toward election for the corps; two or three remained silent, considering it from their individual standpoints.

Among these reflective ones was Alec Sands. Sitting on the ground beside Don Miller, he had listened attentively to the Scout Master’s proposition, and he had seen in it only an opportunity for additional rivalry between the two cabins,—which meant between Hugh Hardin and himself. For, by tacit consent, Hugh and Alec were regarded as the two principal leaders among the scouts.

To Alec,—who had gained his leadership of the Otter patrol by unquestioned ability in scout-craft rather than by virtue of the true scout spirit of kindness and equality,—rivalry meant a certain degree of hostility to “the other fellow.” Being the spoiled son and heir of a railroad magnate, Alec was inclined to consider himself a little above his companions. To compete with them was an act of condescension.

On the other hand, Hugh Hardin, though but slightly less favored by fortune, was by no means a snob. His patrol was made up largely of boys who had not come from homes of wealth, yet among them there was not one who would ever have suspected, from Hugh’s bearing, that he had been born with the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth. Reserved and self-reliant as he was, he possessed an apparently inexhaustible fund of good-humor, energy, and ready sympathy with others.

The Scout Master’s plan struck a responsive chord in Hugh, to whom Alec’s personal view of it would hardly have occurred.

“Great idea! Don’t you think so, Billy?” he whispered.

“All to the good, chief.”

“Walt knows a lot about ordinary telegraphy, you know. That ought to come in handy and count several points for him.”

“‘Bud’ Morgan, in our patrol, worked with a surveying crew last summer. He learned most of the sig——”

“Cut it! The big chief has something more to say.”

After a brief pause, Lieutenant Denmead continued:

“Since most of you are scouts of the second class, and have some knowledge of elementary signaling, we can start our try-outs for the corps by playing the Signalers’ Game this morning. I would like to see what you can do in work with the semaphore codes. It is going to be a perfect day, clear and sunny, and we ought to take advantage of it.

“The game is one for good signalers; nevertheless, those of you who are not so expert can take part in it and learn the first principles. How many of you know how to play it?”

About eleven hands were raised confidently, then two others went up almost timidly, as if the owners were uncertain of their knowledge. The Scout Master counted them, then turned smilingly to his assistant.

“Rawson, there will be quite enough for the first try-out,” he said. “I will take charge of the smallest division, you of the largest. In that way we shall work to the best advantage. I observe that most of those who seem confident of their ability as signalers are Otters. I shall need a few of them, and you may distribute the others as you think best.

“Now, boys,” he added, “this is how the game is played: The troop must be split up, temporarily, into three divisions. Division A, numbering eight scouts, will go with me to some position on