bed this quickly and once securely seated in the crossbars made
ready to send the message that meant life or death to himself and the
little party back there by the over-turned stage coach, dependent on him
for their very lives.

He drew from a pocket a pair of cutting pliers that he had secured from
the coach's toolbox, and donned a pair of thick leather gloves that he
had borrowed from the driver. With the pliers he severed the single
telegraph wire, and grasped the two ends in his gloved fingers.

"Now," he thought, "if there's no current in the wire everything will
have gone for nothing. But if there is----"

He brought the severed ends together, and was overjoyed to see a snapping
little blue spark play about them.

"Great!" he shouted aloud, and then set himself to send the message. He
was an expert telegrapher and knew the Morse code as well as he knew his
own name. Of course, he had no means of telling whether or not anybody
was receiving his sending, but had to go ahead on the chance that they
were.

"Attacked by Indians," he sent. "Near stage-coach trail--twenty miles
east of Helena. Send help, quick."

He repeated this message again and again, until he felt sure that
somebody must have received it. Then he twisted the two ends of the wire
together, and slid down the pole.

"Now to get back with Dick and Tom and the others," he thought. "It's
going to be no easy matter, either. I have an idea it's going to be
harder to get in than it was to get out."

He retraced his course with the utmost caution, until he judged that he
must be nearing the Indian outposts. Then he dropped at full length on
the ground and commenced crawling forward at a snail's pace, pausing
every few yards to listen intently for any indication of danger. At one
time he heard a murmur of guttural voices at no great distance, and
proceeded with redoubled caution until he left the sound behind.
Gradually he worked himself along until he knew he could be at no great
distance from his friends. The danger of being caught by the Indians now
seemed to be passed, but Bert realized that it would never do to approach
his party without giving warning of his coming, as the chances were they
would take him for an enemy and shoot before he could make himself known
to them.

For a time he was at a loss to think of some signal that would be
recognized by those within the improvised fort, but at last had an
inspiration. Softly he whistled a bar of