Yet he slumbered uneasily.  Terrible dreams disturbed him.  Once or twice he awoke and started up in alarm.  Once the slender tower seemed to vibrate as though some one were mounting the ladder.  But Charley dismissed the idea as idle fancy, for the nocturnal stillness was unbroken.  So, fitfully, Charley slept through the night.

Dawn found him afoot.  Eagerly he scanned the horizon.  Banks of mist lay over the valleys, concealing much of the forest.  Slowly Charley examined the horizon, half fearful, half relieved.  From the two sides of his tower he could see nothing disturbing.  But when he turned to the third side his heart stood still.  Unmistakable in the whitish mist, darker clouds were rising upward.  The forest was afire.

Intently Charley studied the smoke pillar, trying to locate it exactly and to estimate the extent of the blaze.  Satisfied, he swept his glance farther along the horizon, but stopped abruptly.  A second spiral of smoke was stealing upward through the mist.  Before he had completed his survey, Charley discovered four more smoke columns.  Somebody had fired the forest in half a dozen different places.

Whoever had done it must have known the forest intimately.  The blazes had been kindled just where they would do the most damage.

Charley’s mind worked like lightning.  Even as he examined and located the smoke columns, he was planning how best to extinguish the fires.  It was still very early.  The wind would not rise for hours yet.  Even then the dense timber would break its force.  Meanwhile the fire would spread but slowly.  If only he could get his men to the spot in time, Charley felt sure he could put out every blaze with but slight damage done.  By the time he reached for the telephone, he had his plan of campaign mapped out.  Morton’s big crew would be assembling in a short time.  The forester might be able to hasten their assembling and to collect more men.  With trucks he could rush the gang clear to the foot of the mountain, where the broken army truck lay.  An excellent fire trail would take some of them afoot direct to the first blazes.  Other groups could strike through the passes for the other fires.  With the chief and Mr. Morton and himself to head three of the crews, and experienced fire fighters to lead the other groups, Charley felt sure that they would hold the fires.

Sharply Charley whirled the bell handle and put the receiver to his ear.  There was no response.  Impatiently he rang again.  Still he got no reply.  A feeling of alarm took possession of him.  Frantically he rang and rang, but the receiver at his ear was mute.  The wire was cut.

“Thank God for the wireless!” cried Charley, snatching up the trap-door and descending the ladder recklessly.  “There aren’t any wires about that to be cut.”

Involuntarily he glanced toward his aerial.  Then he stopped dead.  His aerial had disappeared.  Now he knew why the tower had vibrated during the night.  Somebody had been on the ladder.  If only he had gotten up to investigate!  But it was too late now for regrets.  He must act.  He must get up another aerial.  An idea came to him and he shouted for joy.  He would use the tower itself as an aerial.