Stand By

enshun to teacher that year we had one!" Lem Hicks ran a tragic h

udied first one book, then the other. It was no use! The excitement of the occasion had driven all the "book larnin'" out of Lem's head. For days he had been planning on this, the first telegraphic message to be sent in King's Cove. But the final effort of "putting words into spelling" and then "putting spelling into code" was too much for him. He

ng of doors downstairs, a gallop of feet on the st

, that's S. O. S., the distress signal of the world. I thought this thing must

y bit of the code 'cept that went clean out o

us something here. That set of taps clicked through to me as clean as anything. Whe

for King's Cove, a surge of educational longings. For the first time in thei

ing one's thoughts, clickety-click, far away across a wire, the mistreated reading books and dog-eared spellers were dug out and actually studied. "Great snakes! A fellow railly had to know sump'n if he was goin' to put his thoughts

e youngsters in Lee's "tapping machine." Quite often he would come limping up to sit in the worksho

make my battery send a telegraph signal all the way to Mr. Akerly

n have it crash. "Maybe some day you'll progress enough to send far messages by this wireless we read about, but as long as you're sti

like that!" Lee's face fell. "I'd been hoping, anyway, that we could stretch

figuring." Great-uncle Gem bent his head above a scrap of paper. "There's the horse lot and the cow pasture-we don't have any cattle on t

e, leaping up and letting out a whoop like a wild Indian. "Uncle

King's Cove. Taking stock in this booming concern consisted me

ver a Cove youth could be spared from hoeing 'taters and corn or pushing the plow, he rushed off to the Renaud place to work ten times harder. Only this new labor was interesting work-work with a zest to it. One crew logg

stringing up beg

s clothesline get mixed up in this. We don't want to st

me while more old fencing was de-barbed, and why, in the dark of a ni

posts firm and in a straight line, harder

e when the Renaud-Bobb Telegraph L

nd a message over the line. Jimmy Bobb's eager mind picked up the code quickly. His long fingers learned to click the key with real

y from his workshop, a frantic messag

ere!" Uncle Gem waved his stick ceili

old junk heap in the gully. Right now something new was surging in his brain

f the telegraph

wanting to gab," Lee

t note of the cli

-that's

e leaped, takin

, three short! S.O.S.! Save! Save! Save! Again three short,

is it?" pleaded

ans

om Jimmy!" he shouted as he left the house on

e woods path, he could hear the old darky somewhere behind him hallooing, "Help! Help!" and clanging the dinner bell

ting time waiting on reinforcements. With that last insistent tap-tap call of t

o human sound greeted him. Instead, the awful crackle of flames filled the air. Whorls of smoke curled up from

ng himself inside, shouting,

was no

room. Yes, here by the ticker was Jimmy's chair, and Jimmy in it, slumped in a huddle. Lift

off the wind, shouts greeted him. The whole woods seemed ali

. Cove women, not being given to style, wore plenty of clothing. Here and there, a wide apron or a voluminous Balmoral was shed, wetted and wielded as a weapon to beat down the flames. Cre

of smoke told what a fight it had been. The roof was gone, but

t of her habitual calm, stood near

so, Miz Bobb," he consoled awkwardly. "Hit war that old no 'count chimney what must've done it. We ai

nn's knees let her down on the grou

y assured her, "but I bet

y cheerful. "But all the real stuff we need is still here, and

down, "I'm right thankful yo