some important order that
would make the difference between safety and disaster for a train laden
with passengers.

The fire on which he had cooked their supper was still glowing in the
woods about a hundred yards from the railway tracks, and he hurried
toward it to extinguish it, in accordance with the strictest of all
Scout rules for camping. Fires left carelessly burning after a picnic
have caused many a terrible and disastrous forest fire, and it is the
duty of every Scout to make sure that he gives no chance for such a
result to follow any encampment in which he has had a part.

As he made his way toward the fire he thought once or twice that he
heard the sounds of a man or an animal moving through the woods, and
once, too, he thought he heard a hoarse and raucous laugh. But he
decided, after stopping to listen once or twice, that he had been
mistaken, and he laughed at himself when he was startled as he got near
the dancing shadows east by the dying fire, by what looked like the
shadows of three men.

There was no danger in the fire he had built as long as the wind held
steady, and he might have left it to burn itself out with little fear
of any adverse happening as a result. But that was not thorough, nor
was it the way of a Scout. A wind may shift at any moment, and a fire
that is perfectly safe with a northwest wind may be the means of
starting a conflagration no one can hope to check if the wind shifts
even a point or two.

So Jack put his fire out thoroughly, and made certain that no live
embers remained to start it up anew. Then he washed his dishes, and
made his way back toward Hank Hudson's cabin.

Inside the cabin, as he approached, he could hear slight sounds, and
then, insistent, compelling, the clatter of the telegraph key.

He stopped to listen a moment to its clicking, and then found, to his
surprise, that it was "H-K," the call for Haskell Crossing, that was
sounding.

"Why doesn't Hudson answer?" he asked himself.

Still the call sounded. There was a continued noise within the
station--someone was there, and it must, surely, be Hudson. He could
not fail to hear the chatter of his sounder, and yet he was ignoring
the steady call from his instrument--a call more than likely to be of
the last importance.

Jack, sure now that something must be wrong, did not rush hastily and
impulsively for the door of the cabin. Instead, he crept up quietly
toward the side, where there was a window