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could find him. But you see I can't--_I_ can't find him." "You can make these tracks talk to you. I'm a----" "No, you're not; listen, _please_. I said--you remember how I said I wanted to be alone with you--you remember? Well, now we are alone, and it's going to be you to do it, Roy; it's going to be _you_ to bring Pee-wee back. Just the same as you made me a scout a year ago, you remember? You're the only one can do it, Roy," he put his hand on Roy's shoulder, "and I'll--I'll help you. And it'll seem like old times--sort of--Roy. But you're the one to do it. You haven't forgotten about the searchlight, have you, Roy? You remember how you told me about the scout's arm having a long reach? You remember, Roy? Come on, hurry up!" CHAPTER XII THE LONG ARM OF THE SCOUT As Tom spoke, there came rushing into Roy's memory as vivid as the searchlight's shaft, a certain dark night a year before when Tom Slade, hoodlum, had stood by his side and with eyes of wonder watched him flash a message from Blakeley's Hill to the city below to undo a piece of vicious mischief of which Tom had been guilty. He had turned the heavens into an open book for Westy Martin, miles away, to read what he should do. A thrill of new hope seized Roy. "So you see it _will_ be you, Roy." "It has to be you to remind me of it." "Shut up!" said Tom. They ran for the boat at top speed, for, as they both realized, it was largely a fight against time. "That train was dragging along pretty slow when it passed _us_," said Tom. "Sure, 'bout a million cars," Roy panted. "There's an up-grade, too, I think, between here and Poughkeepsie. Be half an hour, anyway, before they make it. You're a wonder. We'll kid the life out of Pee-wee for riding on a train after all. 'Spose he did it on purpose or got locked in?" "Locked in, I guess," said Tom. "Let's try scout pace, I'm getting winded." The searchlight which had been an important adjunct of the old _Nymph_ had not been used on the _Good Turn_, for the reason that the boys had not run her at night. It was an acetylene light of splendid power and many a little craft Harry Stanton had picked up with it in his nocturnal cruising. Pee-wee had polished its reflector one day to pass the time, but with the exception of that attention it had lain in one of the lockers. Reaching the boat they pulled the light out, connected it up, and found to their delight that it was in good working
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