“There, Arthur has joined him, too, and is coming along,” Billy went on to say.  “He’s about finished helping the doctor take care of the wounded yeomen who had the bad luck to be caught when that treacherous old wall caved in.”

The scout master, accompanied by Arthur, quickly joined them, to be greeted by a shower of eager questions.

“I can tell you all about it, fellows,” said Hugh, making as if to ward off an attack.  “Mr. Jefferson, the manager, says he figures on completing his work in the one visit, and has made all necessary preparations.  It’s a tremendous job to fetch his big company all the way from New York up here.  If they make good to-day they expect to go back in the morning, or perhaps to-night, if they can catch the late train.  Otherwise they’ll have to make another try to-morrow.  Personally, I think they’ll make good to-day.”

“What’s the next stunt, Hugh?” asked Alec, his voice more or less betraying the eagerness and concern he felt.

“Oh, from what I can gather,” answered the scout master, smilingly, “it runs about like this:  The forces headed by the hero knight have carried the outer works of the fortress castle in which the villain has the fair heroine shut up in that turret room.  The invaders, having made a breach in the walls and swarmed over in various places, will now pursue the few desperate defenders of the castle through this passage; and that, with many a desperate hand-to-hand fight.  Always the knight in armor is seen hewing his way steadily through all opposition, with one object in view.  Of course this is to meet the scoundrel, and finish him, which he eventually does after a dreadful sword fight.”

“Whew!” gasped Billy, listening with round eyes to the stirring story.

Alec, too, was deeply interested, but his professional instinct caused him to remark: 

“They’ll have to burn heaps and heaps of flashlight powder to get all those inside effects.  Wish they’d let me see just how they manage it, but it would be apt to queer the value of the picture to have, a modern Boy Scout appear in it.  If I get a good chance, though, I’ve a notion to ask Mr. Jefferson.”

“You’ll never be able to make it, Alec,” Hugh told him.  “He’s the busiest man on earth.  He has to be thinking of fifty things at once.”

“Go on, Hugh, and tell us the rest,” urged Billy, pawing at the sleeve of the other, which action he doubtless meant to be an urgent second to his appeal.

“Every once in a while there will be glimpses shown of Rebecca in her dungeon, looking out of the little opening, and carrying on as if nearly frightened to death, for gusts of smoke will be circling around her, and she is supposed to know that the fire is getting closer all the time.”

“Wow, that must make it a thriller for fair!” exclaimed Monkey Stallings, who was known to love exciting stories, though his watchful mother kept a tight rein on his propensity to indulge along those lines, and censored all books he brought into the house before allowing him to devour them.