uh?" 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, ramm