"There's little danger, Dad. The blankets are thick. And I know just
where the instruments are. And see, I'll wear these gauntlets," he added,
pulling a pair over his hands.
Somewhat reluctantly Mr. Orr took the blankets and threw them over Jack's
head, and on the run Jack plunged into the wall of smoke.
With one gloved hand outstretched he found the telegraph-room door, and
the knob. He pressed against it, and with a crash and then a roar the
door collapsed before him. But without a moment's hesitation he darted on
within, groped his way to the table, found the relay, and with a
desperate wrench tore it from its place. The next moment he dashed
blindly into his father's arms at the outer door, and threw the smoking
blankets and sizzling, burning relay to the sidewalk.
"Water on it quick," gasped Jack, pointing to the instrument. Catching it
up in a corner of one of the blankets Mr. Orr ran with it to a
horse-trough in front, and plunged it into the water.
As he returned Jack was drawing on a second pair of gauntlets.
"Jack, you're not going back!" said his father sharply.
"I want the key, Dad."
"Look there." Glancing within Jack saw that the whole rear of the store
was now enveloped in flames.
"And it would be of no use in any case. Look at this," said Mr. Orr,
holding up the smoking relay.
The instrument did indeed look a hopeless wreck as Jack took it. The base
was cracked and charred, the rubber jacket about the magnet-coils was
frizzled and warped, the fine wire connections beneath were gone, and the
armature spring was missing.
But Jack was not one to give up while a single hope remained. "I could
improvise a key," he said, and with decision hastily sought the hardware
merchant.
"Mr. Wells, did you save any screw-drivers?" he asked.
"In a box down there. Help yourself."
Running thither Jack found the tool, and immediately began taking the
relay apart.
An exclamation of disappointment greeted the discovery that the fine
copper wire within one of the coil-jackets had been melted into a solid
mass. On ripping open the sizzled jacket of the other, however, Jack
found the silk covering the wire to be only scorched, and determined to
do the best he could with the one magnet.
Removing the relay entirely from the burned base, he secured a thin piece
of board from one of the boxes near him, from the miscellaneous tools in
another box found a gimlet, and made the necessary perforations. And soon
he had the brass coil-frame mounted.
Meantime Mr. Orr, not for a moment thinking Jack could do anything with
the charred instrument, had joined the crowd of men and women watching
the burning building from across the street.
"Father! Here, please!" called Jack.
In some wonder Mr. Orr responded, and with him the hardware merchant.
"Have you a rubber band in your pocket?" asked Jack. "I want it for the
armature spring."
"Why you are really not doing anything with it, Jack!" exclaimed his
father.
"Yes, sir. I think I can make it go," responded Jack with a little touch
of elation. "And with only one magnet. But have you the rubber?"
"Here," said Mr. Wells, snapping a rubber band from his pocketbook. "This
do?"
"Just the thing. Thanks." And while the two men looked on, Jack secured
one end of the elastic to the little hook on the armature, and knotted
the other about the tension thumb-screw.
That done, Jack caught up a hammer and smashed the useless coil to
pieces, from the wreck, secured several intact ends of the fine wire, and
with them quickly restored the burnt connections between the magnet and
the binding-posts. And with a cry, half of jubilation and half of nervous
excitement, he caught up the now roughly-restored instrument and ran
toward an iron gas street-lamp. In the roadway a short distance from the
lamp-post lay the burned-off end of the telegraph wire. Placing the
instrument on the sidewalk, Jack ran for the wire, and dragged it also to
the post.
Then, as the crowd, following his father and the hardware merchant,
gathered about him, they saw him secure a piece of wire about the iron
lamp-post, then to the instrument; and, dropping to a sitting position,
place the instrument on his knees, catch up the telegraph line, and hold
it to the other side of the relay.
Jack's low cry of disappointment was echoed by his father. "No use. I was
afraid of it, my boy," said Mr. Orr resignedly.
There was a disturbance on the outskirts of the crowd, and the mayor
appeared pushing his way through. "Didn't you get that message off,
Jack?" he cried excitedly.
"The fire was too quick for us," said Mr. Orr. "Jack risked his life
getting out one of the instruments. But it has proved useless."
"Oh say! Now I know what's the matter!" With the cry Jack sprang to his
feet, broke through the circle about him, and sped back toward the store.
The flames were now bursting from the front, but with head down he ran to
the iron door covering the street entrance to the cellar, and lifted it.
A thin stream of smoke arose, then disappeared as a draft toward the rear
set in. With a thankful "Good!" Jack leaped into the opening.
His father, the mayor, and several others who had rushed after in
consternation reached the sidewalk as Jack's head reappeared, followed by
a green battery jar. Placing the jar on the ledge, he stooped, and raised
another.
"What do you think you are doing?" cried his father.
"I'll explain in a minute. Take them over to the post, please." And Jack
had again disappeared.
The mayor promptly caught up the two cells, but Mr. Orr as promptly
dropped through the opening and followed Jack.
"What are you trying to do?" he demanded as he groped his way to the
battery-shelf. "You can't do anything with the battery if you have no
instrument."
"The instrument is all right, Father. The line has been 'grounded' south,
that's all. If we put battery on here, we can reach some office between
here and wherever the 'ground' is on."
"May it be so," said Mr. Orr fervently, but not hopefully, as they
hurried with four more jars to the entrance.
When they had carried out a dozen jars Jack declared the number to be
sufficient, and scrambling forth, they hastened back to the lamp-post.
Without delay Jack connected the cells in proper series, and removing the
wire between the instrument and the iron post, substituted the
battery--zinc to the post, and copper to the instrument.
Then once more he caught up the severed end of the main-line wire, and
touched the opposite side of the instrument.
A cry of triumph, then a mighty shout, greeted the responding click.
"But what about a key, son?" said Mr. Orr.
"This, for the moment," replied Jack, and simply resting his elbow on his
knee, and tapping with the end of the wire against the brass
binding-post, he began urgently calling.
"HN, HN, HN!" he clicked. "HN, HN, HV! Rush! Qk! HN, HN!"
"Perhaps the wire is grounded between here and Hammerton," suggested his
father breathlessly.
"Anybody answer! Qk!" sent Jack. "Does anybody hear this?"
"What's the matter? This is Z."
"Got Zeisler!" shouted Jack.
The mayor stepped forward. "Send them the message," he directed, "and
have them 'phone it to Hammerton."
Jack did so. And fifteen minutes later the cheering news ran quickly
about the threatened town that two steam fire-engines were starting by
special train from Hammerton immediately, would pick up another at
Zeisler, and would be on the scene within half an hour. All of which
report proved true, the engines arriving on the dot--and by daylight the
last of the several different fires were under control, and the safety of
the town was assured.
Needless to say, Jack's name played an important part in the dramatic
newspaper accounts of the conflagration--nor to add that he was the
envied hero of every other lad in town for weeks to come.
The final and particular result of the affair, however, was the offer to
Jack of a good position in the large commercial telegraph office at
Hammerton, which he at last induced his parents to permit him to accept.