THE MESSAGE
"I'm a dumb-bell!" said Nick in a quick inspiration. "Go down and turn on
the main switch; it's in a box on the wall in the vestibule; just pull
the handle down and push it in below. We'll never get any juice up here
with that turned off. Hurry up."
Norton descended the ladder and with lighted matches found his way to
the vestibule where the switch-box was. Here was the big switch on which
all other switches in the building depended. As he pulled it down one
lonely bulb in the meeting-room brightened and cast a dim light in the
musty, empty place. It was evidently the only bulb in which the
individual switch was turned on. Norton went through the meeting-room
and turned this off. The place smelled for all the world like a
school-room.
When he reached the ladder it was bathed in light. Nick was pointing a
shaft of dazzling brightness downward. It revealed spiders and split
rungs on the ladder and all the litter at its foot. All the rotting
framework of the place and all the disorder were drawn into the light of
day. A pile of old law books became radiant, dry and dull as they were.
"We've got it," called Nick, "hurry up, this blamed thing will reach to
the isle of Yap. What's S? Wait, I'll give 'em the high sign first."
A long, dusty column swept across the dark sky.
"Attention everybody," said Nick. "What's S?"
"Three dots," said Norton.
"Three flashes it is. How's that? I'm forgetting my A, B, C's. What's
T?"
"One dash."
"Is three seconds long enough?"
"Three for dashes and one for dots."
"O."
The long column swung slowly to right, then slowly back to left again,
then slowly back to right.
"P's a hard one; here goes."
"Good for you, _some_ handwriting."
In five minutes or less, Nick had sprawled across the open page of the
heavens the words, "STOP BLUE CAR 50792 EAGLE ON FRONT." He paused about
half a minute then repeated the message.
That long, accusing arm crossed stars as it swayed and flashed. It
filled the limitless sky like a rainbow. A giant spectre it was, swaying
in the unknown depths, crossing clouds, and piercing realms of darkness,
and speaking to those who could understand. A sick child, somewhere or
other, saw it, and the watchful mother carried the little one to a
window the better to see this strange visitant.
"It's a search-light," she said. But to them it had no meaning. A merry
party returning home in the wee hours paused and watched it curiously
but it spoke to them not. At Knapp's Crossroads they saw it, just as the
harvest festival was breaking up, and Hank Sparker and Sophia Coyson
lingered on their way home to watch it. But it spoke not their language.
Did it speak to any one, this voice calling in the dark? Did any one
understand it? Were there no telegraph operators in any of the stations
along the line? They would understand. Was there no one?
No one?...