Most telegraph operators, young operators especially, have a number of
over-the-wire friends. Alex Ward's particular telegraph chum was Jack
Orr, or "OR," as he knew him on the wire, a lad of just his own age, son
of the proprietor of the drug-store in which the town, or commercial,
office was located at Haddowville, a small place at the end of the line.
The two boys had become warm friends through "sending" for one another's
improvement in "reading," in the evenings when the wire was idle; but
also because of the similarities of taste they had discovered. Both were
fond of experimenting, and learning the "why and wherefore" of things
electrical.
And not infrequently they got themselves into trouble, as young
investigators will.
One evening that summer, the instruments being silent, Jack, at
Haddowville, bethought himself of taking the relay, the main receiving
instrument, to pieces, to discover exactly how the wire connections in
the base were arranged. To think with Jack was to act. Half an hour later
his father, entering with an important message, found Jack with the
instrument in a dozen pieces.
Mr. Orr viewed the muss with consternation. Then he spoke sharply. "Jack,
if that relay is not together again, and working, in five minutes, I'll
take you out to the woodshed!" Needless to say, Jack threw himself into
the restoring of the instrument with ardor, while his father stood grimly
by. And fortunately the relay was in its place again, and clicking,
within the prescribed time.
"But don't let me ever catch you tinkering with the instruments again,"
said Jack's father warningly, as he gave Jack the message to send.
"Another time it'll be the woodshed whether you get them together or no.
Remember!"
Shortly after midnight the night following Jack suddenly found himself
sitting up in bed, wondering what had awakened him. From the street below
came the sound of running feet, simultaneously the window lighted with a
yellow glare, and with a bound and an exclamation of "Fire!" Jack was
across the room and peering out.
"Jones' coal sheds! Or the station!" he ejaculated, and in a moment was
back at the bedside, dressing as only a boy can dress for a fire. Running
to his parents' bedroom he told them of his going, and was down the
stairs and out into the street in a trice.
Dim figures of men and other boys were hurrying by in the direction of
the town fire-hall, a block distant, and on the run Jack also headed
thither. For to help pull the fire-engine or hose-cart to a fire was the
ardent hobby of every lad in town.
A half dozen members of the volunteer fire company and as many boys were
at the doors when Jack arrived, and the fire chief, already equipped with
helmet and speaking-trumpet, was fumbling at the lock.
"Where is it, Billy?" inquired Jack of a boy acquaintance.
"They say it's the station and freight shed, and Johnson's lumber yard,
and the coal sheds--the whole shooting match," said Billy, hopefully.
"Bully!" responded Jack; who, never having seen his own home in flames,
likewise regarded fires as the most thrilling sort of entertainment.
"Out of the way!" cried the chief. The big doors swung open, and with a
rush the little crowd divided and went at the old-fashioned hand-engine
and the hose-cart. Billy and Jack secured the particular prize, the head
of the engine drag-rope, and like a pair of young colts pranced out with
it to its full length. Others seized it, and with the cry of "Let 'er
go!" they went rumbling forth, and swung up the street.
The hose-cart, with its automatic gong, clanged out immediately after,
and the race that always occurred was on. The engine of course had the
start, but the hose-cart, a huge two-wheeled reel, about which the hose
was wound, was much lighter, and speedily was clanging abreast of them.
Here, however, Big Ed. Hicks, the blacksmith, and Nick White, a colored
giant, rushed up, dodged beneath the rope, and took their accustomed
places at the tongue, and with a burst of speed the engine began to draw
ahead. Other firemen appeared from side streets and banging doorways, and
took their places on the rope, and a shout from the juvenile contingent
presently announced that the reel was falling to the rear.
Meanwhile the glare in the sky had brightened and spread; and when at
last the rumbling engine swung into the station road the whole sky was
ablaze. Overhead, before a stiff wind, large embers and sparks were
beginning to fly.
With a dash the panting company swept into the station square. Before
them the station and adjoining freight-shed were enveloped in flames from
end to end. It was apparent at once that there was no possibility of
saving either. But with a final rush the engine-squad made for the
fire-well at the corner of the square, brought up all-standing, and in a
jiffy the intake pipe was unstrapped and dropped into the water. The reel
clanged up, two of its crew sprang for the engine with the hose-end and
couplers, and the cart sped on, peeling the hose out behind it.
The speed with which they could get into action was a matter of pride
with the Haddowville firemen. Almost before the coupling had been made at
the engine the men and boys at the long pumping-bars were working them
gently; within the minute a shout from the cart announced that the hose
was being broken, the pumpers threw themselves into the work with zest,
and the next moment from the distant nozzle shot a sputtering stream.
With the other boys, Jack, though now considerably winded, was throwing
himself energetically up and down against one of the long handles. Before
many minutes, however, the remainder of the regular enginemen appeared,
and took their places, and presently Jack also was ousted.
At once he set off for a closer view of the fire. Half way he was halted
by a call.
"Hi, Jack! Come and help push the freight cars!"
The shout came from a group of boys running for the rear of the burning
freight-shed, and responding with alacrity, Jack joined them, and soon,
just beyond the burning building, was pushing against the corner of a
slowly moving box-car with all his might.
One car was rolled safely out of the danger zone, and Jack's party
hastened back for another. The innermost of the remaining cars, and on a
separate siding, was but a short distance from the flaming shed, and
already was blazing on the roof. Jack and several other adventurous
spirits determined to tackle this one on their own account. After much
straining they got it in motion.
Suddenly a wildly excited figure appeared rushing through the smoke, and
shouted at the top of his voice, "Get back! Get back! There's blasting
powder in that car!"
In a twinkle there was a wild stampede. And but just in time. With a
blinding flash and a roar like a thunderbolt, the car shot into the air
in a million pieces. Many persons in the vicinity were thrown violently
to the ground, including Jack. As he scrambled, thoroughly frightened, to
his feet, someone shouted, "Look out overhead!" and glancing up, Jack saw
a shower of burning fragments high in the air.
Then rose the cry, "The wind is taking them right over the town!" In
alarm many people began leaving the square for their homes.
Jack's own home and the drug-store block were well on the other side of
the town, however, and with no thought of anxiety Jack remained to watch
the burning station, now a solid mass of flame from ground to roof.
Presently, glancing toward the opposite corner of the square, Jack noted
a general, hurried movement of the crowd there into the street. He set
out to investigate. As he neared the fire-engine, still clanking
vigorously, a bareheaded man rushed up and asked excitedly for the fire
chief. "The telephone building and a house on Essex Street, and one on
the next street back, are burning!" he cried. "Quick, and do something,
or the whole town will be afire!"
Looking in the direction indicated, Jack saw a wavering glare, and with a
new thrill of excitement was immediately off on the run. The telephone
exchange was one of the largest buildings in town.
As he came within sight of the new conflagration the flames already were
leaping from the roof and roaring from the upper windows. Despite the
heat, the crowd before the building was clustered close about the door of
the telephone office, and Jack hastened to join them, to learn the cause.
Making his way through the throng, he reached the front as a blanketed
figure staggered, smoking, from the doorway. Someone sprang forward and
caught the blanket from the stumbling man, at the same time crying, "Did
you get them?"
"No," gasped the telephone operator, for Jack saw it was he; "the whole
office is in flames. I couldn't get inside the door."
Mayor Davis, the first speaker, turned quickly about. "Then we'll run
down to Orr's and telegraph."
At once Jack understood. The mayor wished to send for help from other
towns. He sprang forward. "I'm here, Mr. Davis--Jack Orr. I'll take a
message!"
"Good!" said the mayor. "Run like the wind, my boy, and send a telegram
to the mayors of Zeisler and Hammerton for help. As many steam engines as
they can spare. And have the railroad people supply a special at once.
Write the message yourself, and sign my name. Tell them four more fires
have broken out, and that the whole town may be in danger."
Jack broke through the crowd, and was off like a deer.
Farther down the street he passed another building, a small dwelling,
burning, with its frightened occupants and their neighbors hurrying
furniture out, and fighting the flames with buckets.
Down the next cross-street he saw flames bursting from a second house.
Then it was that the real gravity of the situation began to come home to
Jack. Till now it had all been only a thrilling drama--even the bearing
of the mayor's urgent message had appeared rather a dramatically
prominent stage-part he had had thrust upon him.
On he sped with redoubled speed, and turned into the main street. Then
his alarm became genuine. Lurid flames were licking over the tree-tops
directly ahead of him--in the direction of the store! A moment later a
cry of horror broke from him. It was indeed the store block!
But his own personal alarm was quickly lost in a greater. Suppose the
telegraph office also should be in flames, and he unable to reach it? He
ran on madly.
He neared the store, and with hope saw that so far the flames were only
in the second story. Men were hurrying in and out, and from the
hardware-store adjoining. But as he rushed to the drug-store door a cloud
of heavy smoke rolled forth, driving a group of men before it.
Among them he recognized his father.
"Dad," he cried, "can't I reach the instruments? I've a message for help
to Hammerton and Zeisler from the mayor! The 'phone office and the
station are burned. There is no other way of getting word out."
Mr. Orr had halted in consternation. "No; you couldn't get to them. The
telegraph room is a furnace. The fire came in through the office windows
from the outhouse, and I closed the door from the store."
Through the haze of smoke within burst a lurid fork of flame.
"There! The fire is out through the telegraph-room door," said the
druggist. "You couldn't get near the table. And anyway, Jack, the
instruments would be useless by this time."
It was this remark that aroused Jack. "If I could rip them from the table
in any kind of shape, perhaps I could fix them up quickly so I could use
them," he thought.
To his father he said with sudden determination, "Dad, I'm going to make
a try for the key and relay."
"No. I won't permit it," declared Mr. Orr decisively.
"But father, if we don't get word out the whole town may be burned,"
cried Jack.
"I'll make a try myself," said Mr. Orr, and without further word lowered
his head and dashed back into the smoke.
While Jack stood anxiously awaiting his father's reappearance the owner
of the adjacent hardware-store stumbled from his doorway under a bundle
of horse-blankets. With an immediate idea Jack ran toward him. "Mr.
Wells, let me have some of those blankets," he said hurriedly. "We want
to try and reach the telegraph instruments. They are the only hope for
getting word out of town for help. Father is in after them, but I don't
think he can reach them with nothing over him."
The merchant promptly threw the whole bundle to the ground. "Help
yourself," he directed.