"There's no if about it," interrupted Charley with determination. "We got most of the poison out of your arm. I'll bet on that. What's left may make you sick, but it can't kill you. What we've got to do is to prevent that poison from reaching your heart, at least in any quantity. You sit down against this tree and keep quiet so your heart will beat as slow as possible. In about twenty minutes loosen this bottom cord. Loosen the middle one after another twenty minutes, and open the third at the end of an hour. That's all I know how to do. Thank God, we've got a wireless here! Now I'm going to get it up as quick as possible." He tore open the pasteboard boxes and took out one instrument after another, coupling up the wires quickly and skilfully. Then he seized the little axe, chopped some branches for spreaders, fastened the aerial wires to them, and added other wires to suspend them by. Quickly he selected two trees for supports, and climbing up first one and then the other, soon had his aerial dangling directly above the fire trail. He coupled up his lead-in wire and ran his eye over the outfit. Everything was complete. Only the power was lacking. With the axe he pried off the lid of the box containing the battery, tore away the paper and excelsior wrappings, and in another moment had his wires around the binding posts. He threw over his switch, and springing to his key pressed his finger on it. A brilliant flash shot between the points of his spark-gap. Rapidly he adjusted the points until his instrument was giving a spark of maximum strength. Then he settled himself to the task ahead. "WXY--WXY--WXY--CBC," called Charley. (Frankfort Radio Station--Charley Russell calling.) Several times he repeated the call. Then he shut off his switch and sat in silence listening for a reply. None came. "They may be talking to somebody," he muttered. Again he called. "WXY--WXY--WXY--CBC," he flashed again and again. Once more he sat quiet and listened. At first he got no reply. Then, clear as a bell on a frosty morning, a signal sounded in his ear: "CBC--CBC--CBC--I--I--I." (Charley Russell--I'm here.) Charley sighed with relief. "Got 'em," he said to the ranger. Then he turned intently to his key. "Please telephone District Forester Marlin at Oakdale instantly," he rapped out. "Ranger Morton bitten rattlesnake. Send motor-car where battery was delivered this morning. May need man help ranger. Bring doctor. Tell wife get ready. Will listen for answer." As Charley sat waiting for a reply, he studied the face of the ranger. It was set hard. Courage was written on it plainly. The ranger started to speak. "Don't talk," interrupted Charley. "Keep as quiet as you can, and watch your bandages. If you keep them tight too long it harms your blood somehow."