"One dash."

"Is three seconds long enough?"

"Three for dashes and one for dots."

"O."

The long column swung slowly to right, then slowly back to left again,
then slowly back to right.

"P's a hard one; here goes." "Good for you, _some_ handwriting."

In five minutes or less, Nick had sprawled across the open page of the
heavens the words, "STOP BLUE CAR 50792 EAGLE ON FRONT." He paused about
half a minute then repeated the message.

That long, accusing arm crossed stars as it swayed and flashed. It
filled the limitless sky like a rainbow. A giant spectre it was, swaying
in the unknown depths, crossing clouds, and piercing realms of darkness,
and speaking to those who could understand. A sick child, somewhere or
other, saw it, and the watchful mother carried the little one to a
window the better to see this strange visitant.

"It's a search-light," she said. But to them it had no meaning. A merry
party returning home in the wee hours paused and watched it curiously
but it spoke to them not. At Knapp's Crossroads they saw it, just as the
harvest festival was breaking up, and Hank Sparker and Sophia Coyson
lingered on their way home to watch it. But it spoke not their language.