Tom Slade : Boy Scout of the Moving Pictures Part 6

"Sure; didn't yer see it?"

"What for?"

"He's a rich guy, ain't he?"

Roy looked at him, puzzled.

"Dere's a gang comin' over from Hillside ter s'prise him to-night."

"In a car?"

"Ye-re. An' I put de sign up fer ter sidetrack 'em."

"You did?"

In the glare of the glowing fire Roy looked straight at Tom. "How will that--what good--" he began; then paused and continued to look curiously at him with the same concentrated gaze with which he would have studied a trail by night. But that was not for long. A light came into his eyes. Hurriedly he took out his watch and looked at it.

"Nine o'clock," he said, thoughtfully; "they must have started back."

He rose, all the disgust gone from his face, and slapped Tom on the shoulder.

"Ain't he a rich guy?" explained Tom.

"Never mind that," said Roy. "I'm glad you told me--I'm going to show you something as sure as you're a foot high! You and I are going to have the time of our lives to-night, and _don't you forget it!_"

CHAPTER V

CONNOVER'S PARTY

"Quick, now, hand me the light and look out you don't trip on the wires. If they once get past Westy's house--g-o-o-d-_night!_ Just inside the garage door there you'll see a switch-turn it on. Here, take the lantern. If Westy don't get this right, we'll kill him."

Tom, with but the haziest idea of what was to be done, followed directions. It evidently had something to do with the mysterious "dot flares" and with his own mean act. These excited nocturnal activities had a certain charm, and if it wasn't mischief Roy was up to it had at least all the attractive qualities of mischief.

"You'll see a book just inside the tent--paper covered--hand me that too, and come up yourself. Look out for the wires," cautioned Roy.

He opened the Scout Handbook to about the middle and laid it flat on the tower rail.

"That's the Morse Code," said he, "easy as eating ice cream when you once get the hang of it. I know it by heart but I'm going to let you read them to me so as to be sure. Better be sure than be sorry--hey? I hope they don't speed that auto till we get through with them."

"Can he answer?" ventured Tom.

"No, they haven't got a car at Westy's and no searchlight. He brings me the message all writ, wrot, wrote out, in the morning. They've got a dandy team there, though. Cracky, I'd rather have a pair of horses than an auto any day, wouldn't you. Now be patient, Conny dear, and we'll see what we can do for you."

"It's a long, long way to Tip--Hillside. Do you s'pose Westy's home yet? Oh yes, sure, he must be. Well, here we go--take the lantern and read off the ones I ask for and get them right or I'll-make you eat another plate of plum-duff! Feeding with intent to kill, hey?"

Tom couldn't help laughing; Roy's phrases had a way of popping out like a Jack-in-the-Box.

He had a small makeshift wooden bracket which stood on a grocery box on the tower platform, and in this the auto searchlight swung.

"Wait a second now till I give him 'Attention' and then we're off.

Guess you must have seen this light from downtown, hey?"

"Ye-re, I wondered what'twas."

"Well, here's where you find out."

There was a little click as he turned the switch, and then a long straight column of misty light shot up into the darkness, bisecting the heavens. Far over to the west it swung, then far to the east, while Tom watched it, fascinated. Then he heard the click of the switch again and darkness reigned, save for the myriad stars.

It wac the first time in his life that Tom had ever been charged with a real responsibility, and he waited nervously.

"That meant, 'Get ready,'" said Roy. "We'll give him time to sharpen his pencil. Do you pull much of a stroke with Machelsa, the Indian spirit? She smiles a smile at me once in a while, and if you want her to see you through any kind of a stunt you just rub your cheek with one hand while you pat your forehead with the other; try it."

"Can't do it, eh?" he laughed. "That's one of Mr. Ellsworth's stunts; he got us all started on that. You'd think the whole troop was crazy."

"I know him," said Tom.

"He's the worst of the lot," said Roy. "Well, off we go, let's have S-call them dots and lines; some say 'dashes' but lines is quicker if you're working fast."

"Tree dots," said Tom.

Three sudden flashes shot up into the sky, quickly, one after another.

"Now T."

"Line," said Tom.

The switch clicked, and the long misty column rose again, remaining for several seconds.

"Now O."

"T'ree lines," said Tom, getting excited.

"Now P--and be careful--it's a big one."

"I'm on de job," said Tom, becoming more enthusiastic as he became more sure of himself. "Dot--line--line--dot."

The letter was printed on the open page of the heavens and down in Barrel Alley two of the O'Connor boys sitting on the rickety railing watched the lights and wondered what they meant.

So, across the intervening valley to Westy's home, the message was sent. The khaki-clad boy, with rolled-up sleeves, whose brown hand held the little porcelain switch, was master of the night and of the distance, and the other watched him admiringly.

Down at the Western Union office in Bridgeboro, the operator sauntered out in his shirtsleeves and smilingly watched the distant writing, which he understood.

Stop all autos send car with young folks back to Bennett's sure not practice serious.