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Only a few hours before, during an idle moment, the similarity of the big jar to a gravity cell had occurred to him, and the speculation as to whether it could not be turned into a battery if need be. Could he really make a battery of it? If he could, undoubtedly it would be strong enough to so increase the current in the wire that both Zeisler and the despatcher could hear him.
Bloomfield Zeisler says: "Piano technic includes so much! Everything goes into it: arithmetic, grammar, diction, language study, poetry, history and painting. In the first stages there are rules to be learned, just as in any other study. I must know the laws of rhythm and meter to be able to punctuate musical phrases and periods.
Whatever the two renegades might have said through their gritting teeth, there was no doubt as to what the sheriff and the others thought. Nor the bank officials at Zeisler, when, a day later, there came to Alex a highly commendatory letter and a check for two hundred dollars.
"It's your weakness, you know, to get mixed up in any excitement that's going on within a mile of you." To Alex's disappointment hour after hour passed, however, and brought no further word, either of the pursued, or the pursuers. Finally, just before midnight, hearing Zeisler "come in" on the wire to report the passing of a freight, Alex reached for the key, determined to inquire.
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.
"I was going to ask Zeisler just as you came in," replied Alex, turning again to the key. "Well, never mind, then. Just tell them they were captured here, instead." "What! Captured here?" exclaimed Alex. "That's it. About an hour ago, just north, by the Bloomsbury posse. Sheriff O'Brien sent us down with the news, so you could send word up and down the line and call in the other posses.
The zinc was cut, and hurriedly folding it as he had the copper, Alex sprang to his feet, and running to the cupboard, dragged out a bundle of wire, and began sorting out a number of short ends. "How much longer?" said the superintendent in a tense voice. "The train should be at Zeisler now." "Just a minute. But she's sure to be a little late, from the fog," said Alex, hopefully, never pausing.
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.
"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.
Meantime, having thus sent the message to WS to the bank-breakers' satisfaction, Alex proceeded to call and send it by turns to Zeisler, Hammerton, and other stations on the line. Sending slowly, to make the most of his time, it was within fifteen minutes of the hour the express was due when Alex had sent the last of the messages.
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