wet, and I don't know how they got it that way, except I know there
was bilge water down under the flooring. They're a lot of crackerjacks
on signalling, I'll say that much for them. There was a stove in the
main cabin with a stovepipe going straight up through the roof like a
smoke stack and there was a damper in it right near the stove.

"Get a handbook or a pocket code," somebody said, "so he'll have the
signs right near him."

"He doesn't need any signs," Pee-wee shouted, disgusted like.

Well, this is the way Wig did it, and after he got started, most of us
went up on the roof to see if we could read it. But that's mighty hard
to do when you're right underneath it.

By the time the fellows came upstairs with the damp excelsior (that's
what they call the smudge) Wig had a good fire started in the stove.

"Lay that stuff down here," he said; then he said to me, "What do you
want to say?"

"Just say I'm safe, Wig," I told him. "Say for them not to pay any
attention to what they hear."

I only waited long enough for him to get started, just so as to see
how he did it, then I went up on the roof and watched the long black
smoke column. Cracky, I was glad it was moonlight, that's one sure thing.

As soon as he had a good fire started he stuffed some of the damp
excelsior in and shut the door, and told Artie Van Arlen (he's their