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"They said there was one at nine-forty-six," replied Clint, "but this this officer says it doesn't stop at Brimfield." "We'll soon find out, boys." The Chief consulted a time-table and nodded. "Brimfield at ten-fifteen." He looked at the big clock on the wall. "Seven-forty-five," he muttered. "I guess we can make it." He put the receiver to his ear once more. "Operator? Wharton, 137-M, please.
Slowly, dreadingly, horror gripping his heart, Parks crossed the room to the desk. He picked up the telephone from where it rested amid the litter and placed the receiver to his ear. The voice of the operator came to him across the wire. "Hello," he called, "Give me 2290 Plaza, please." At length there came to him an answer. He inquired: "Is this Dr. Grenelle's office?" It was the doctor himself.
The young operator, who, in spite of his efforts to conceal his hurt, now limped a little as he walked up the street of the new railroad town might well look with curiosity and amazement on what he saw. The street he walked in was no more than a long assemblage of saloons, restaurants, boarding-houses, gambling-houses, dance-halls and shops.
He had served in the Belgian Congo, in the French Foreign Legion in Algiers, and spoke all the European languages. In Rome, where as a wireless operator he was serving a commercial company, in selling Marie copies of messages he had memorized, Marie had found him useful, and when war came she obtained for him, from the Wilhelmstrasse, the number 292.
One day I wanted to be extra operator, and another day I would insist upon being placed in the train dispatcher's office, and again thought I would like the general freight office, either of which was considered a fine position. Finally the secretary asked, one day, how I would like to have Mr. Kline resign in my favor. I told him I would like it first-rate if the salary was sufficient.
If Williams was only in the air now I'd give you a good demonstration of communicating with an aeroplane," continued the operator as he prepared to leave. Kennedy thanked him for the record and carefully folded it. Joining the crowd, we pushed our way out, but instead of going down to the station with them, Kennedy turned toward the barn and the yellow house.
"Tell it to the operator," shouted Bridge who stood peering through an opening in the barricade before a front window; "they are coming now, and the chances are that the first thing they'll do is cut the telephone wires."
The telegraph operator at Port Huron knowing of his proficiency, and wanting to get into the United States Military Telegraph Corps, where the pay in those days of the Civil War was high, succeeded in convincing his brother-in-law, Mr. M. Walker, that young Edison could fill the position.
He did not know now where Harry was, and he did not even know whether he was dead or alive. Dick sighed a little, and just at that moment the telegraph key began to click. "The answer is coming!" exclaimed the young operator excitedly and then he bent closer over the key to take it. The three chairs straightened up, and they, too, bent toward the key.
Farid introduced the boys to the staff, then took them on a quick tour. He showed them the controls for the great dish. They were fully automatic. The operator needed only to set the co-ordinates for the part of the sky to be examined, then clock mechanisms of remarkable precision would keep the telescope on target until the target sank below the horizon.
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