birds. It seemed as if they might
be fleeing quietly from the wreck which they had caused.

"If one of the lights on those cars is working, we might use it for a
signal," Roy said.

The cars of which he spoke were in the wreckage of Berry's garage. It
had not been much of a garage, hardly more than a shack, in fact, and
the two cars which now stood more or less damaged and exposed to the
weather, had been its only contents, save for a work-bench and a few
tools. Mr. Berry's flivver was quite beyond repair, having been
overturned and carried some yards and apparently dashed against the
bridge. There is no wreck in the world like the wreck of a Ford.

The heavier car had evidently withstood the first onrush of water and
had made a stand against the flood, its wheels deep in the mud. This
car was a roadster. Its side curtains were up, completely enclosing the
single seat. It had evidently been used since the rainy weather started.
It was not altogether free from damage, one of the fenders was bent, the
bumper in front almost touched the ground on one side, an ornamental
figurehead had been broken off the radiator cap, and the face of the
radiator was dented. This car was equipped with a searchlight fastened
on one end of the windshield, and as Gilbert Tyson handled this it
lighted, sending a penetrating shaft of brightness into the night.

"It's funny the battery works after the soaking it got," said Roy.
"Let's keep playing that light on the road. Anybody could see it half a
mile off."

"Spell danger with it," Gilbert said.

"Sure, but I don't think anybody from camp will be along."

"You never can tell who knows the Morse Code and who doesn't," Gilbert
said. "Keep playing it on the road, anyway."

The position of the car was such that this searchlight could be shown
upon the road for perhaps the space of a quarter of a mile. It would
have been quite sufficient to give pause to any approaching wagon or
machine. Roy and Gilbert climbed into the car and sat upon the seat in
the cosy enclosure formed by the curtains. It was quite pleasant in
there. Since it was more agreeable to be fooling with the light than to
let it shine steadily, Roy amused himself by spelling the word DANGER
again and again.

Pretty soon one of the curtains opened and a voice said, "What's all the
danger about?"

CHAPTER XII

THE GRAY ROADSTER

It was Tom Slade. With him was one of the best all-around scouts in
camp, patrol lea