"Artie," I said.

"They'll stick it out, all right," Westy Martin said; "it's easier for
Artie, he can stay near the window ."

"Bully for you, Wig, old boy!" somebody shouted, just as the E in SAFE
shot up. And I knew what it meant--it meant that the words Roy is safe
had been printed in great big black letters across the sky.

Then it came faster and faster and it seemed as if he must be turning
that damper like a telegraph operator moves his key. "Don't worry!"
it said, "reports false," "Roy Blakeley safe," "Roy safe," "Blakeley
alive." He said it all kinds of different ways.

Once Artie came up coughing and choking and watched a few seconds to
see if the wind was blowing the smoke away as fast as the signs were
made, because that was important.

"It's lucky we have that wind," he said, and then went down again in
a hurry.

Pretty soon we could see some searchlights far away and I guess they
were on the ships. But ours was different and nearer to Bridgeboro,
and people would be sure to see it, only maybe they wouldn't understand
it and that's what made me worry. I'm good on reading smudge signals,
even though I never sent many and I never have to have the handbook when
I read the code, that's one thing. And I didn't pay much attention to
all the talking and yelling, only kept my eyes up in the sky, watching
that long smoky column. It beat any searchlight you ever saw. "Roy