the house corner, blinking his eyes, rubbing them as if some insect or dust had suddenly blinded them. He looked towards the range, pointing to the crags of Ghost Mountain.
"Funny. I never seen that afore," he said. "Must be a reg'lar slab of mica rock up thar."
Sheridan followed the direction of his finger. The Sim was well above the saw tooths and it had chased the shadows half way down the slopes. On Ghost Mountain showed flashes of brilliant light, winking, winking persistently. Lund, self-explaining the phenomenon, had disappeared. Sheridan dived into the door as Jackson came around from the corral with the sorrel mare and the roan, ready saddled for their ride. He came out with his own shaving mirror in one hand and his copy of the code. Jackson had already noticed the signaling and hitched the two ponies to the set-rail.
"Count 'em, Red," said Sheridan. "It may be just an invitation to see the furniture set up, but it's a bit early in the morning for that sort of message."
Jackson nodded, counting the intermittent winks that came distinctly.
"Four-three. Three-two. Three-two. Two-three. Four-two. Two-four. Five-two. Five-four. Four-three. Three-two. Three-two———"
"Repeating ain't she?"
"Yes." Sheridan's brow was furrowed. The letters seemed only nonsense. Perhaps one of the women was merely practicing.
I-K-K-O-M-E-Q-U-I-K-K
