CHAPTER XVIIA TEST OF COURAGE“Sta—Stacy gone?” exclaimed Elfreda Briggs. “It can’t be possible. He is playing one of his practical jokes on us.”“Let us look, but don’t disturb Emma and Nora if it can be avoided,” urged Grace.The two girls, with the guide, repaired to Lieutenant Wingate’s tent, and examined it, using their pocket lamps. It was as Hamilton White had said—there was every evidence that a struggle had taken place there. The fat boy’s hat and his revolver lay where they had been hurled to one side of the tent. His blouse was a yard or so to the rear, and the imprint of his heels where they had been dragged over the ground was plainly visible.“He must have been asleep,” nodded White.“Yes,” agreed Grace. “If awake Stacy would have set up such a howl that none could have failed to hear. When do you think this was done, Mr. White?”“When we were out looking for the lieutenant. If you will remember, Mr. Brown remained behind.”“Do you think it wise to follow his trail?” asked Grace.“No. Not now. I dare not leave the camp. All this may be part of a plan. My duty is here, at least until daylight, when I will get into communication with those who will find both men.”“You think so, Mr. White?” questioned Elfreda anxiously.“Yes. It is the work of the same gang, but what their motive is we can only surmise. You and Mrs. Gray may know.”Elfreda felt her face growing hot, and a retort was on her lips, but she suppressed it.“Mrs. Gray, if you think I should try to run the trail now, I will do so, but it would be against my judgment. I hope you do not insist,” said White, turning to Grace.“I believe you are right,” answered Grace. “Come, Elfreda, we will go to our tent, for no serious harm can come either to Hippy or Stacy. They dare not harm them.”Ham White did not reply. He knew the character of the men who committed that piece of banditry, and knew that they would hesitate at no crime to gain their ends, whatever those ends might be.The guide got no sleep that night. Mindful of the attacks that had been made on the camp, he took up his position at a distance, and, with rifle in hand, sat motionless the rest of the night. From his position in the deep shadows he commanded a view of the entire camp, which was dimly lighted by the campfire all night long.There were occasional sounds that Ham White did not believe were made by marauding animals, but none were definite enough to warrant exposing his position. During his vigil nothing occurred to disturb the sleepers.The graying mists of the early morning were rising from gulch and forest, enfolding the mountaintops, when Ham White stole around the camp, scrutinizing every foot of the ground. By the time he had completed this task the mists were so far cleared away that a good view of the surrounding country might be had.From his kit the guide selected a wigwag signalling flag, and taking one of the tent poles for use as a flagstaff, he went cautiously to the high rock that stood sentinel over the Overland camp, and climbed to its top.“I hope none of the girls wake up,” he muttered, peering down into the camp, which was as quiet as a deserted forest.Ham White, after attaching the flag to the pole, began waving it up and down, which in the wigwag code means, “I wish to speak with you.”It was at this juncture that Grace Harlowe slowly opened her eyes. Where she lay she could look straight up to the top of the rock without making the slightest movement, and her amazement must have been reflected in her eyes.Like several of the Overland girls, Grace’s experience in the war had included learning to signal and to read signals. She was out of practice, but was easily able to read any message not sent too fast. Ham began his message, after getting the attention of the persons to whom he was signalling, at a speed that Grace could not follow. She did, however, catch a few words that were enlightening.“Trouble—Haley—Trail—Send word—Caution—Great secrecy or expose hands—Fatal to—” were some of the words that she caught as the guide flashed them off. Then he paused.“How I wish I could see the answer,” muttered the Overland girl, as she watched Hamilton White, with glasses at his eyes, receiving the message that was being sent to him.Grace Harlowe’s, however, were not the only pair of eyes that witnessed that exhibition of signalling. Other eyes were observing, but that other pair could not read a word of what the signallers were saying.White dropped his glasses and snatched up his flag, and she read, this time with greater ease:“It may be fatal. Great danger to both. My responsibility. Must have instant action. This an order. Obey without loss time. Report soon as anything to say.” The guide signed his name, and the words that followed the signature filled Grace Harlowe with amazement. She saw the guide remove the flag from its staff and hide it under a stone, after which he descended to the camp, passing the open tents without so much as a glance at them.Ham stirred up the fire and put over the breakfast, and, while it was cooking, Grace came out, greeting him cheerfully.“Is there any news, Mr. White?” she asked sweetly.“No, not yet.”“What have you done?”“I signalled to a fire-lookout station that assistance was needed. It is best to wait until we hear from them.”“How, signal?” she questioned, appearing not to understand.“By the air route, Mrs. Gray,” was the smiling reply.Grace Harlowe shrugged her shoulders.“You are a very clever man, Mr. White,” she said, and walked to her tent to awaken Miss Briggs.When informed that Stacy Brown was missing, a few moments later, Nora Wingate became hysterical, but Grace and Elfreda calmed her, and the party were ready to sit down to breakfast when the guide announced it as ready.It was a trying, anxious morning for the little band of Overlanders. White made frequent trips to the rock, observed questioningly by Elfreda.“What is he looking for, Grace?” she asked. “Does the man expect to find the bandits that way?”“I don’t know. Why not ask him, J. Elfreda?”“Not I. You know I would not.”About mid-forenoon Grace suggested to the guide that he go out into the forest and see if he could glean any information as to the direction that the kidnappers had taken when they left the camp, with either Hippy or Stacy Brown.White pondered the subject a moment, then agreed.“If you will promise not to leave camp, and to fire a shot at the least suspicious sound or occurrence, I will go out,” he said. “One of you had better go to the rock and take station there until my return.”Grace said she would do that. Matters were working out to her satisfaction, and, after telling Elfreda to take her rifle and post herself a short distance to the rear of the camp, and assigning Emma and Nora to the right and left ends of their camping place, Grace climbed the rock and sat down. After Ham White, following a survey of the camp and her arrangements, of which he approved with a nod and a wave of the hand, had left the camp, Grace got up and looked for the signal flag, which she found under a flat stone.“Now! Having disposed of my companions I shall see what I shall and can see,” she told herself.Securing the signal flag, the Overland girl took a survey of the landscape. A vast sea of dense forest lay all about her, broken here and there by a white-capped mountain. Nothing that looked as if it might be a fire-lookout station attracted her eyes. She had used her field glasses, but without result.A moment of vigorous signalling on her part followed, after which Grace swept the landscape again. She discovered nothing at all. Another trial was made, and the word “answer” was spelled out by her.Her eye caught a faint something far to the north of her, and Grace’s glasses were at her eyes in a twinkling. A little white flag was fluttering up and down against the background of forest green in the far distance.“I’ve got him!” cried the girl exultingly. “I’ve got him!” Then, wigwagging, Grace Harlowe signalled the one word, “Report!”“Who?” came the answer, almost before she could get the glasses to her eyes to read the message.“For White,” she wigwagged. “Report!”Holding the flag, now lowered to the rock, with one hand, the other holding the glasses to her eyes, Grace bent every faculty to watching that little fluttering, bobbing square of white, that, at her distance from it, looked little larger than a postage stamp.“Repeat!” she interrupted frequently, whenever part of a word was missed. It was a laborious effort for her, out of practice as she was, and the exchange of messages lasted for a full half hour before the Overland girl gave her unseen, unknown signaller the “O. K.” signal.Grace folded the flag and placed it under the stone, then straightened up.“Mr. Hamilton White, I have you now!” she exclaimed, a triumphant note in her voice.
“Sta—Stacy gone?” exclaimed Elfreda Briggs. “It can’t be possible. He is playing one of his practical jokes on us.”
“Let us look, but don’t disturb Emma and Nora if it can be avoided,” urged Grace.
The two girls, with the guide, repaired to Lieutenant Wingate’s tent, and examined it, using their pocket lamps. It was as Hamilton White had said—there was every evidence that a struggle had taken place there. The fat boy’s hat and his revolver lay where they had been hurled to one side of the tent. His blouse was a yard or so to the rear, and the imprint of his heels where they had been dragged over the ground was plainly visible.
“He must have been asleep,” nodded White.
“Yes,” agreed Grace. “If awake Stacy would have set up such a howl that none could have failed to hear. When do you think this was done, Mr. White?”
“When we were out looking for the lieutenant. If you will remember, Mr. Brown remained behind.”
“Do you think it wise to follow his trail?” asked Grace.
“No. Not now. I dare not leave the camp. All this may be part of a plan. My duty is here, at least until daylight, when I will get into communication with those who will find both men.”
“You think so, Mr. White?” questioned Elfreda anxiously.
“Yes. It is the work of the same gang, but what their motive is we can only surmise. You and Mrs. Gray may know.”
Elfreda felt her face growing hot, and a retort was on her lips, but she suppressed it.
“Mrs. Gray, if you think I should try to run the trail now, I will do so, but it would be against my judgment. I hope you do not insist,” said White, turning to Grace.
“I believe you are right,” answered Grace. “Come, Elfreda, we will go to our tent, for no serious harm can come either to Hippy or Stacy. They dare not harm them.”
Ham White did not reply. He knew the character of the men who committed that piece of banditry, and knew that they would hesitate at no crime to gain their ends, whatever those ends might be.
The guide got no sleep that night. Mindful of the attacks that had been made on the camp, he took up his position at a distance, and, with rifle in hand, sat motionless the rest of the night. From his position in the deep shadows he commanded a view of the entire camp, which was dimly lighted by the campfire all night long.
There were occasional sounds that Ham White did not believe were made by marauding animals, but none were definite enough to warrant exposing his position. During his vigil nothing occurred to disturb the sleepers.
The graying mists of the early morning were rising from gulch and forest, enfolding the mountaintops, when Ham White stole around the camp, scrutinizing every foot of the ground. By the time he had completed this task the mists were so far cleared away that a good view of the surrounding country might be had.
From his kit the guide selected a wigwag signalling flag, and taking one of the tent poles for use as a flagstaff, he went cautiously to the high rock that stood sentinel over the Overland camp, and climbed to its top.
“I hope none of the girls wake up,” he muttered, peering down into the camp, which was as quiet as a deserted forest.
Ham White, after attaching the flag to the pole, began waving it up and down, which in the wigwag code means, “I wish to speak with you.”
It was at this juncture that Grace Harlowe slowly opened her eyes. Where she lay she could look straight up to the top of the rock without making the slightest movement, and her amazement must have been reflected in her eyes.
Like several of the Overland girls, Grace’s experience in the war had included learning to signal and to read signals. She was out of practice, but was easily able to read any message not sent too fast. Ham began his message, after getting the attention of the persons to whom he was signalling, at a speed that Grace could not follow. She did, however, catch a few words that were enlightening.
“Trouble—Haley—Trail—Send word—Caution—Great secrecy or expose hands—Fatal to—” were some of the words that she caught as the guide flashed them off. Then he paused.
“How I wish I could see the answer,” muttered the Overland girl, as she watched Hamilton White, with glasses at his eyes, receiving the message that was being sent to him.
Grace Harlowe’s, however, were not the only pair of eyes that witnessed that exhibition of signalling. Other eyes were observing, but that other pair could not read a word of what the signallers were saying.
White dropped his glasses and snatched up his flag, and she read, this time with greater ease:
“It may be fatal. Great danger to both. My responsibility. Must have instant action. This an order. Obey without loss time. Report soon as anything to say.” The guide signed his name, and the words that followed the signature filled Grace Harlowe with amazement. She saw the guide remove the flag from its staff and hide it under a stone, after which he descended to the camp, passing the open tents without so much as a glance at them.
Ham stirred up the fire and put over the breakfast, and, while it was cooking, Grace came out, greeting him cheerfully.
“Is there any news, Mr. White?” she asked sweetly.
“No, not yet.”
“What have you done?”
“I signalled to a fire-lookout station that assistance was needed. It is best to wait until we hear from them.”
“How, signal?” she questioned, appearing not to understand.
“By the air route, Mrs. Gray,” was the smiling reply.
Grace Harlowe shrugged her shoulders.
“You are a very clever man, Mr. White,” she said, and walked to her tent to awaken Miss Briggs.
When informed that Stacy Brown was missing, a few moments later, Nora Wingate became hysterical, but Grace and Elfreda calmed her, and the party were ready to sit down to breakfast when the guide announced it as ready.
It was a trying, anxious morning for the little band of Overlanders. White made frequent trips to the rock, observed questioningly by Elfreda.
“What is he looking for, Grace?” she asked. “Does the man expect to find the bandits that way?”
“I don’t know. Why not ask him, J. Elfreda?”
“Not I. You know I would not.”
About mid-forenoon Grace suggested to the guide that he go out into the forest and see if he could glean any information as to the direction that the kidnappers had taken when they left the camp, with either Hippy or Stacy Brown.
White pondered the subject a moment, then agreed.
“If you will promise not to leave camp, and to fire a shot at the least suspicious sound or occurrence, I will go out,” he said. “One of you had better go to the rock and take station there until my return.”
Grace said she would do that. Matters were working out to her satisfaction, and, after telling Elfreda to take her rifle and post herself a short distance to the rear of the camp, and assigning Emma and Nora to the right and left ends of their camping place, Grace climbed the rock and sat down. After Ham White, following a survey of the camp and her arrangements, of which he approved with a nod and a wave of the hand, had left the camp, Grace got up and looked for the signal flag, which she found under a flat stone.
“Now! Having disposed of my companions I shall see what I shall and can see,” she told herself.
Securing the signal flag, the Overland girl took a survey of the landscape. A vast sea of dense forest lay all about her, broken here and there by a white-capped mountain. Nothing that looked as if it might be a fire-lookout station attracted her eyes. She had used her field glasses, but without result.
A moment of vigorous signalling on her part followed, after which Grace swept the landscape again. She discovered nothing at all. Another trial was made, and the word “answer” was spelled out by her.
Her eye caught a faint something far to the north of her, and Grace’s glasses were at her eyes in a twinkling. A little white flag was fluttering up and down against the background of forest green in the far distance.
“I’ve got him!” cried the girl exultingly. “I’ve got him!” Then, wigwagging, Grace Harlowe signalled the one word, “Report!”
“Who?” came the answer, almost before she could get the glasses to her eyes to read the message.
“For White,” she wigwagged. “Report!”
Holding the flag, now lowered to the rock, with one hand, the other holding the glasses to her eyes, Grace bent every faculty to watching that little fluttering, bobbing square of white, that, at her distance from it, looked little larger than a postage stamp.
“Repeat!” she interrupted frequently, whenever part of a word was missed. It was a laborious effort for her, out of practice as she was, and the exchange of messages lasted for a full half hour before the Overland girl gave her unseen, unknown signaller the “O. K.” signal.
Grace folded the flag and placed it under the stone, then straightened up.
“Mr. Hamilton White, I have you now!” she exclaimed, a triumphant note in her voice.