He was startled, at first, for he was looking right at a guard, who stood in the open doorway, across from him. Then he saw the dirty floor, the broken window, and the heap of old furniture. Finally, he located Hike, lying not over five feet from him, on the floor. Hike’s ankles and wrists were tied, and a rope bound about his waist was hitched to a ring in the wall. He looked very tired, but his lean jaw was firmly set. He seemed to be going off to sleep again, instead of worrying. “_Hike!_” whispered Poodle, after two or three minutes, when the guard for the back and sides of the cabin had passed by, and the guard in front had moved out a little from the door. “Hike! It’s Pood’!” Hike started up, then lay back, with closed eyes. Hadn’t he been able to believe his own ears? Did he think he had dreamed that whisper? But Hike crossed his fingers, twice. It was the sign of the Santa Benicia fraternity to which the two boys belonged! And Poodle was sure that Hike had heard, and was making the signal for him. “Out back,” whispered Poodle, a word at a time, cautiously, peeping out from his rubbish heap now and then, to be sure the guard was not near him. “I’ll come in _Hustle_—rescue. When’s Jolls coming back?” Suddenly a strange sound came from within the cabin. Hike was singing, as though to amuse himself. Poodle wondered, as he heard: “Santa Benicia, Santa Benicia, Santa Benicia Acada_mee_.” Hadn’t Hike heard him, then, after all? He saw the guard in front look into the cabin, and heard him sneer, “Call that singing? I’d kill my dog, if he howled that way.” The guard strolled still farther out from the cabin. Hike sang on, through two verses, mumbling the words badly. Poodle started, as he made out words among the mumblings. He listened intently, and got this message out of what sounded like nonsense: “To-night. Meeting here. Heard Jolls. Heard him talking. In front of cabin. Captain Welch will be here. Have him arrested. Come in _Hustle_. God bless you, old Poodle!” “I’ll be here,” whispered Poodle. As the guard, passing the back of the cabin, turned the corner, Poodle slipped out of his rubbish heap, and crept toward the nearest bushes. Running, stumbling, hurrying till his panting heart pained him, he rushed down the hill, toward the marsh, bound for Washington. CHAPTER XIV AIR-PILOT POODLE Poodle had ridden seven miles behind the Jolls automobile, but he had to walk twelve, for it was five miles from the hill where he had left his own car to “the next town,” where he had told his chauffeur to wait for him.