red the other,
a tremor in his voice; "You showed the pluck of a grown man. And if I
could a took yer place, which in course I couldn't, never havin' been
trained to wigwag, or handle a telegraph key, I'd sure let you sleep
on; for ye desarve it, that's right."

Step Hen made a few movements, regardless of the pain it gave him, so
as to get his arms in working order; because he knew he would have to
use them a great deal, if he were lucky enough to get an answer to his
signals.

The guide showed him where to stand, where he would be in the shadow,
and the blazing, moving torch show; and he then pointed out the
distant fire, down through the gap in the mountain chain.

"They ain't touched it since we kim here," he remarked; "but that
makes me think it might be done any minit now. So p'raps ye'd better
show me the way to fling that there torch around, to let 'em know
we're here, an' wantin' to talk. I kin do that part, I reckons, an'
save you some work."

Step Hen was agreeable, for he knew that he would have all he could do
later on, to handle that beacon, should he find a chance to send the
message he wanted the scoutmaster to get.

For some time Toby waved his torch around without there being any
response; and it began to look as though he might have all his trouble
for his pains, when Step Hen was heard to give a little eager cry.

"There!" he exclaimed, "I believe I saw a light move, just then. Yes,
look, Toby, there it is again; and as sure as you live, they're
answering us! Now, give me the torch. I only hope I haven't forgotten
all I knew about sending messages, because all poor Aleck's hopes for
his future may hang on my being able to warn them the sheriff and old
Artemus Rawson are heading that way. Now watch close, Toby! I'm going
to start in."

CHAPTER XIX.

THE WARNING.

Step Hen was all of a tremble when he first began to handle that
burning splinter of wood, provided by Toby Smathers, to serve as a
fiery pen; and with which he hoped to write letters in the dark
background he had chosen for his location.

Just as he had himself declared, regretfully now, Step Hen had never
been a shining light in this code business. Indeed, up to lately, he
had rather considered the whole thing something of a great bore; and
when ordered out on the hills to wave signal flags, he had only obeyed
under protest. There had been plenty of things he much preferred to
this sort of detail work.

But after see