One afternoon a few days following the affair of the missing cash-box
Manager Black appeared in the Hammerton operating room, and after a
consultation with the chief operator, called Jack Orr from his wire.
"Jack," said the manager, "there have been some important developments in
the big will case on trial out at Oakton, and the 'Daily Star' has asked
for a fast operator to send in their story to-night. The chief tells me
you have developed into a rapid sender. Would you care to go?"
"I'd be glad of the opportunity, sir," said Jack, delightedly.
"All right. The chief will let you off now, so you will have plenty of
time to catch the seven o'clock train. And now, Jack, do your best, for
the 'Morning Bulletin' is sending its news matter in by the other
telegraph company, and we don't want them to get ahead of us in any way."
When Jack reached the station, several of the newspaper men, including
West of the "Star," already were there. Among them he saw Raub, a
reporter of the "Bulletin," and with him Simpson, an operator of the
opposition telegraph company.
"Why, hello, kid!" said the latter on seeing Jack. "They are not sending
you out to Oakton, are they?"
"They are," responded Jack, with pride. Simpson laughed, and, somewhat
indignant, Jack passed on down the platform. On turning back, he noticed
Simpson and Raub apart, talking earnestly. As he again neared them, both
glanced toward him, and abruptly the conversation ceased. At once Jack's
suspicions were aroused, for he knew Raub had the name of being very
unscrupulous in news-getting matters, and that Simpson was not much
better. He determined to watch them.
But nothing further attracted his attention, and finally, the train
arriving, they boarded it, and made a quick run of the ten miles to the
little village. There Jack headed for the local telegraph office.
He found it a tiny affair, in a small coal office on the southern
outskirts of the village. Introducing himself to the elderly lady
operator, who was just leaving, he went to the key and announced his
arrival to the chief at Hammerton.
It was an hour later when West, the "Star" reporter, appeared. "Here you
are, youngster," said he; "a thousand words for a starter. It's going to
be a great story. I'll be back in half an hour with another batch."
Promptly Jack called "H," and soon was clicking away in full swing. But
suddenly the instruments ceased to respond. The wire had "opened." Jack
tested with his earth connection, and finding the opening was to the
south, waited, thinking the receiving operator at Hammerton had opened
his key. But minute after minute passed, and finally becoming anxious, he
cut off the southern end and began calling "B," the terminal office to
the north.
"I, I," said B.
"Get H on another wire and ask him what is wrong here," Jack sent
quickly. "We are being held up on some very important stuff."
"H says it is open north of him," announced B, returning. "We are putting
in a set of repeaters here, so you can reach him this way."
A moment later Jack heard Hammerton calling him from the north, and in
another moment he was again sending rapidly.
But scarcely had Jack sent a hundred words when this wire also suddenly
failed. When several minutes again passed and no further sound came, Jack
leaned back in despair. Suddenly he sat upright. Raub and Simpson! Was it
possible this was their work? Was it possible they had cut the wires?
Quickly he made a test which would show whether the breaks were near him.
Adjusting the relay-magnets near the armature, he clicked the key. There
was not the faintest response. Switching the instruments to the southern
end of the wire, he repeated the test, with the same result.
On both ends the break was within a short distance of him. Undoubtedly
the wires had been cut!
Jack sprang to his feet and seized his hat. "I'll find that southern
break if I have to walk half-way to Hammerton," he said determinedly, and
leaving the office, set off down the moonlit road, his eyes fixed on the
wire overhead.
Scarcely a mile distant Jack uttered an exclamation, and, running
forward, caught up the severed end of the telegraph line.
A moment's examination of the wire showed it had been cut through with a
sharp file.
Yes; undoubtedly it was the work of Raub and Simpson, in an effort to
keep the news from the "Star," and score a "beat" for the opposition
telegraph company and the "Morning Bulletin."
"But you haven't done it yet," said Jack grimly, turning to look about
him. How could he overcome the break in the wire? As the cut had been
made close to the glass insulator on the cross-arm, only one of the two
ends hung to the ground, and he saw that he could not splice them. And in
any case he could not climb the pole and take that heavy stretch of wire
with him.
His eyes fell on a barb-wire fence bordering the road, and like an
inspiration Alex Ward's feat with the rails at Hadley Corners occurred to
him. Could he not do the same thing with one of the fence wires? Connect
this end of the telegraph line (and fortunately it was the Hammerton
end), say to the upper strand, then run back to the office and string a
wire from the fence in to the instruments?
To think was to act. Dragging the telegraph wire to the fence, Jack
looped it over the topmost strand near one of the posts, and wound it
about several times, to ensure a good contact. Then on the run he started
back for the telegraph office.
As he neared the little building Jack saw a figure within. Thinking the
"Star" reporter had returned with further copy, he quickened his steps.
At the doorway he halted in consternation. Instead of the reporter were
two desperate-looking characters, and on the table beside them a
half-emptied bottle and a large revolver.
Jack hesitated a moment, then stepped inside. "What are you men doing
here?" he demanded.
"Oh, hello, kiddo! We are the new operators," said one of them with tipsy
humor. "You're discharged, see? And you git, too!" he suddenly shouted,
catching up the pistol. And promptly Jack "got." A few yards distant,
however, he halted. Now what was he to do?
"Oh here you are, eh? Where have you been?" It was West, the "Star" man,
and he spoke angrily. "I was here ten minutes ago, and found the office
empty, and if the other company could have handled my stuff yours would
have lost it. I've just been--"
Interrupting, Jack hastily explained, telling of the severed wire, and
his plan to bridge the break. The reporter uttered an indignant
exclamation. "It's Raub's work, sure as you're born," he said hotly.
"But say, youngster, we can't permit ourselves to be beaten this way.
Can't we do something?"
"We might get some help, and drive the roughs out," suggested Jack.
"No; we haven't time. And then they might put up a drunken fight and
shoot somebody. Come, think of something else. You surely can get over
this new difficulty, after your clever idea for getting around the cut in
the wire."
"I don't know," replied Jack doubtfully, glancing toward the office
window. "If there was any way of getting the instruments--"
"What could you do with them?"
"We could turn the barn there into an office. I'd run connections out
through the back to the fence. It's just behind."
"Say--I've an idea then! If it wouldn't take you long to remove the
instruments from the table?"
"Only a couple of minutes."
"Come on," said West. Leading the way back toward the office, he
explained, "I'll get these beggars out, you hide round the corner, and
soon as the way is clear rush in and get your instruments, and duck for
the barn. I'll join you later."
"How are you going to get them out?" whispered Jack.
"Watch," said the reporter.
As Jack drew out of sight about the rear of the building his
mystification was added to when he saw West pause before the door, stoop
and pick up a handful of gravel. But immediately the reporter entered the
doorway and spoke his purpose was explained.
"Hello, you two big rummies," he said in his most offensive tones. "What
are you doing here?"
The two men were in a momentarily genial mood, however, and missed the
insult. "Why, hello pard, ol' man," responded one of them cordially.
"Come in an' make 'self t' home. Wanta buy a telegraph office? Cheap?"
"Cheap! You are the cheapest article I see here," replied West, yet more
insultingly. "What do you mean by sitting down in respectable chairs? You
ought to be tied up in a cow-stable. That's where you belong."
There was an angry growl as the two men scrambled to their feet, and
peering about the corner Jack saw West back into the door.
"Come on out, you big, overgrown cowards," shouted the reporter. "I'll
thrash the both of you, with one hand tied behind me!
"And take that!"
With his last words West suddenly threw the gravel full in the faces of
the now enraged men, and spinning about, raced off down the road. They
stumbled forth, shouting with rage, and one of them fired. The bullet
went yards wide, and West ran on. Without further wait Jack darted into
the office, in a few minutes had the relay and key from the table,
secured some spare ends of wire for connections, and sped for the barn.
[Illustration: LOOPED IT OVER THE TOPMOST STRAND, NEAR ONE OF THE POSTS.]
There all was darkness. Entering, a search with matches soon produced a
lantern, however. Lighting it, Jack stepped without to discover whether
its glimmer could be seen from the direction of the office. As he closed
the door West appeared, panting and laughing.
"Well, what do you think of that stunt, youngster?" he chuckled. "Did you
get the instruments?"
"Yes. I was out here to learn whether the light of a lantern I found
could be seen."
"Good head! No; it doesn't show.
"And come on! Here the beggars are again!" West led the way inside, and
closed the door behind them.
"Now what, my boy?"
"A table first. Here, the very thing," said Jack, making towards a long
feed-box at the rear of the barn.
As they cleared its top of a pile of harness West asked, "Just what is
the scheme here, youngster? I don't think I understand it."
"Oh, simple enough. I'll just run the wires out through that knot-hole,
and connect one to the fence and the other to the ground."
"Simple! It looks different to me," declared the reporter admiringly.
"All right, go ahead. I'll get down on this box and grind out the rest of
my story."
Already Jack was at work sorting over the odd pieces of wire he had
brought. Finding two suitable lengths, and straightening them out, he
quickly connected them to the instruments, placed the instruments in a
convenient position on the top of the box, and thrust the wire ends
through the knot-hole. Then, hastening outside to the rear of the barn,
he proceeded to connect one of them to the same strand of the fence wire
to which the telegraph line was secured a mile distant. The other he
drove deep into the damp earth beneath the edge of the building. And,
theoretically, the circuit was complete.
Hurriedly he re-entered the barn to learn the result.
"Well?" said West anxiously.
"There is current, but it's too weak." Jack's voice quavered with his
disappointment. "I suppose the rusty splices of that old fence offer too
much resistance.
"But I'm not beaten yet," he exclaimed, suddenly recovering his
determination. Turning from the box, he began pacing up and down the
floor. "I'll figure it out somehow if I--oh!" With the cry Jack darted
for the door, out, and toward the office.
The intoxicated roughs were again in possession. Quietly he made his way
to a dark window adjoining the lighted window of the operating room--the
window of a little store-room, where, the local operator had told him,
the batteries were located.
The window was unlocked, and with little difficulty he succeeded in
raising it. Cautiously he climbed within, and feeling about, found the
row of glass jars. Quickly disconnecting two of them, he carried them to
the window-sill, clambered out, and hastened with them to the barn.
"Now I've got it, Mr. West!" he cried. "I'll have H again in fifteen
minutes!"