aphore was furnished with three revolving arms, fixed one above
the other. The upper one denoted units, and had six motions, indicating
ONE to SIX. The middle one denoted tens, TEN to SIXTY. The lower one
marked hundreds, from ONE HUNDRED to SIX HUNDRED.

The lower and upper arms whirled out. That meant THREE HUNDRED AND SIX.
A ball ran up to the top of the post. That meant ONE THOUSAND.

Number 1306, or, being interpreted, "PRISONERS ABSCONDED".

"By George, Harry," said Jones, the signalman, "there's a bolt!"

The semaphore signalled again: "Number 1411".

"WITH ARMS!" Jones said, translating as he read. "Come here, Harry!
here's a go!"

But Harry did not reply, and, looking down, the watchman saw a dark
figure suddenly fill the doorway. The boasted semaphore had failed this
time, at all events. The "bolters" had arrived as soon as the signal!

The man sprang at his carbine, but the intruder had already possessed
himself of it. "It's no use making a fuss, Jones! There are eight of us.
Oblige me by attending to your signals."

Jones knew the voice. It was that of John Rex. "Reply, can't you?" said
Rex coolly. "Captain Burgess is in a hurry." The arms of the semaphore
at the settlement were, in fact, gesticulating with comical vehemence.

Jones took the strings in his hands, and, with his signal-book open
before him, was about to acknowledge the message, when Rex stopped him.
"Send this message," he said. "NOT SEEN! SIGNAL SENT TO EAGLEHAWK!"

Jones paused irresolutely. He was himself a convict, and dreaded the
inevitable cat that he knew would follow this false message. "If they
finds me out--" he said. Rex cocked the carbine with so decided a
meaning in his black eyes that Jones--who could be brave enough on
occasions--banished his hesitation at once, and began to signal eagerly.
There came up a clinking of metal, and a murmur from below. "What's
keepin' yer, Dandy?"

"All right. Get those irons off, and then we'll talk, boys. I'm putting
salt on old Burgess's tail." The rough jest was received with a roar,
and Jones, looking momentarily down from his window on the staging, saw,
in the waning light, a group of men freeing themselves from their irons
with a hammer taken from the guard-house; while two, already freed, were
casting buckets of water on the beacon wood-pile. The sentry was lying
bound at a little distance.

"Now," said the leader of this surprise party, "signal to Woody Island."
Jones perforce