CHAPTER IX--STRICTLY BUSINESS
Tom's face was hopeful and pleased as he descended through the trap doorto the ground with his good news.
"How is he?" was his eager inquiry, as he stepped inside the doorway ofthe old tool shed.
"He's just begun to move again," reported Harry, "but he has beentwisting about and moaning terribly."
"Mr. Barton! Mr. Barton!" shouted Tom in the ear of their patient, asthe eyes of the latter opened and stared wildly at him.
"I remember now," spoke Mr. Barton weakly. "It's Tom Barnes?"
"Yes," assented Tom. "That's better," he added, as the man sat up."Don't give way again, Mr. Barton, it's all right."
"What's all right, Tom?"
"Good news. The doctor."
"Yes! yes!"
"I sent word to him."
"How could you? The telephone lines are dead."
"By wireless, to my friend, Ben Dixon, who runs a small station. He gotmy message. Their telephone service is all right. The doctor is now onhis way to your home."
"Oh, thank you, Tom, thank you!" cried Mr. Barton fervently.
"That's great, Tom," commented Harry heartily.
"I noticed a light in the nearest house yonder," proceeded Tom. "Thewind has gone down a good deal. Could you make it, do you think, Harry?"
"You mean get to the house?"
"Yes."
"Why, of course."
"Take your lantern so you won't run into anything or lose your way."
"All right. What then?"
"An old fish peddler lives there. Tell him of the fix Mr. Barton is in."
"I understand."
"And ask him to hitch up and try and get him home."
"I'll do that," said Harry promptly, as he picked up the lantern and putfor the door.
Tom urged hope and patience on his charge. The announcement that he hadsucceeded in getting a doctor started for Rockley Cove had worked agreat change in the patient. He forgot his sufferings in his joy at theknowledge that help was on the way to his dying child at home.
It was about ten minutes later when there was a rattle of decrepitwheels and a resounding call:
"Whoa!"
"We're here," reported Harry, springing from the peddler's wagon.
Its owner had spread some blankets on the floor of the vehicle, making acomfortable bed for the injured man. They lifted him into the wagon boxas carefully as they could.
"How shall I ever thank you, Tom?" asked Mr. Barton gratefully.
"Don't try," said Tom. "Just get home and get mended up, and I hope thedoctor is in time to save your child."
Tom, left alone, returned to the tower. He felt well satisfied with theway affairs were progressing. He had been able to demonstrate somepracticability to Station Z, and the fact encouraged him greatly.
The storm had subsided considerably. The rain had ceased entirely, andthe wind came only in occasional gusts, diminishing gradually in theirviolence.
It must have been an hour later when Tom, almost dozing in his chairbefore the operating table, gave a great start as a cheery signalwhistle rang out from below.
"Ben," he soliloquized, quite glad to welcome a companion in hisloneliness.
"I've come," announced his chum, appearing through the trap opening."Ugh! but it was a tough fight part of the way! I was nearly blown intothe surf once or twice."
"What brought you out such a night as this?" challenged Tom.
"Just what is keeping you here," retorted Ben; "the chance of somethingexciting happening. Say, that message of yours has just stirred me up."
"You got it all right?"
"The first time. I expected there might be business such a night asthis, and kept watch for it. Our 'phone was all right, and I got thedoctor at once. He said he would start without delay for Rockley Cove."
"I hope he made it," said Tom.
"He must have, for he had the smooth sheltered turnpike to take, and thestorm is nothing much now. Our folks were delighted to think that ourtoy telegraph, as they call it, did something really useful, and theylet me come down to stay all night."
"I'm glad of it, Ben," replied Tom. "Harry will be back soon. We've gota lunch mother put up for us, and we can make a pleasant night of it."
"That's just famous!"
Ben removed his wet jacket and took up a comfortable position in achair. Tom told of the injured Mr. Barton and what he had done for him.
"I say, Tom," suddenly asked Ben, during the pause after they haddiscussed current topics, "heard anything from Mr. Edson lately?"
Tom's face fell instantly, as though the remark suggested someunpleasant and disturbing subject. He looked quite anxious.
"Yes, Ben," he replied, "I got a letter this morning. He will be hereto-morrow."
"How's that?"
"It seems he has made his arrangement to go into paid service on theNorth Atlantic coast."
"And he wants his money?" questioned Ben uneasily.
"That's about it," answered Tom in a subdued tone.
"Too bad!" murmured Ben. "You can't reach it any way, Tom?"
"I'm afraid not," responded Tom. "As you know, my aunt wrote meyesterday that she had everything invested. She said that the first ofthe month she had some interest money coming in, and would send me ahundred dollars as soon as it did."
"But that's too late to do any good."
"Yes," admitted Tom reluctantly.
"Then you'll have to give up the station here?"
"I'm afraid I will," answered Tom with a sigh. "I'll tell you frankly, Ifelt pretty hopeful of getting the money from another source, but I'mdisappointed in that, too."
"What source, Tom?"
"Mr. Morgan."
"Oh, yes! Well," declared Ben, "he ought to."
"I am sure he would help me if he were at home," said Tom.
"You did a big thing for him, Tom."
"Mr. Morgan thinks that way himself. I am sure of it, from what hesaid."
"Maybe he will return to-morrow," suggested Ben.
"Grace says he has business in New York until the end of the week."
"Too bad!" exclaimed Ben.
"Well, it can't be helped," said Tom philosophically. "I'll just have tostart in a more modest way. Mr. Edson is poor, and has got to realizeright off from his investment here, he wrote me. Just think of it,"added Tom, gazing about the room with longing enthusiastic eyes, "we'vegot to give it all up, maybe the chance of a lifetime, because we can'traise the money."
"How much do you need?" challenged a sharp voice suddenly, bringing bothboys to their feet with a shock.