II
AN ORIGINAL EMERGENCY BATTERY
One afternoon two weeks later Alex returned from school to find hisfather and mother hurriedly packing his suit-case.
"Why, what's up, Dad?" he exclaimed.
"You are off for Watson Siding in twenty minutes, to take charge of thestation there nights," said his father. "The regular man is ill, thedespatcher had no one else to send, and asked for you, and of course Itold him you'd be delighted."
"Delighted? Well, rather!" cried Alex, gleefully, and throwing hisschool-books into a corner, he dashed up-stairs to change his clothes,hastily ate a lunch his mother had prepared, and fifteen minutes laterwas hurrying for the depot.
Needless to say Alex was a proud boy when shortly after seven o'clock hereached Watson Siding, and at once took over the station for the night.For it is not often a lad of fourteen is given such responsibility, eventhough brought up on the railroad.
Alex was soon to learn that the responsibility was a very real one. Thefirst night passed pleasantly enough, but early the succeeding night,following a day of rain, a heavy spring fog set in, and shortly beforeten o'clock Alex found, to his alarm, that he could not make himselfheard on the wire by the despatcher. Evidently there was a heavy escapeof current between them, because of the dampness.
Again the despatcher called, again Alex sought to interrupt him, failed,and gave it up. "Now I am in for trouble," he said in dismay. "Ifanything should--"
From apparently just without came a low, ominous rumble, then a crash.Alex started to his feet and ran to the window. He could see nothing butfog, and hastily securing a lantern, went out onto the station platform.
As he closed the door there was a second terrific crash, from thedarkness immediately opposite, and a rain of stones rattling againstiron.
"The bank above the siding!" cried Alex, and springing to the tracks, hedashed across, and with an exclamation brought up before a mound of earthsix feet high over the siding rails.
As he gazed Alex felt his heart tighten. The westbound Sunset Express wasdue to take the siding in less than half an hour, to await the EasternMail, and at once he saw that if the engineer misjudged the distance inthe fog, and ran onto the siding at full speed, there would be a terriblecalamity.
And suppose the cars were thrown onto the main line track, and the Mailcrashed into them! And, apparently, he could not reach the despatcher, togive warning of her danger!
What could he do to stop them? Helplessly Alex looked at the lantern inhis hand. Its light was smothered by the fog within ten feet of him.
Running back to the operating room he seized the key and once more soughtto attract the attention of the despatcher. It was useless. Thedespatcher did not hear him. He sank back in his chair, sick with dread.
But he must attempt something! Determinedly he sprang to his feet. Alantern was useless. Then why not a fire? A big fire on the track?Hurrah! That was it! But--he gazed at the coal box, and thought of therain soaked wood outside, and his heart sank. Then came remembrance ofthe big woodshed at the farm-house where he boarded, three hundred yardsaway, and in a moment he had recovered the lantern, and was out, and offthrough the darkness, running desperately.
On arriving at the house Alex found all in silence, and the familyretired, but without a moment's hesitation he threw himself at the frontdoor, pounding upon it with his fists.
It seemed an age before a window was raised. "Mr. Moore," he cried,"there has been a landslide in the cut at the station, and there isdanger of the Sunset running into it. May I have wood from the shed tomake a fire on the track to stop her?"
"Gracious! Certainly, certainly!" exclaimed the voice from the window."And the boys and I will be down in a minute to help you. You run aroundand be pulling out some kindling."
THREW HIMSELF AT THE FRONT DOOR, POUNDING UPON ITWITH HIS FISTS.]
Alex darted about to the woodshed, there the farmer and his two sons soonjoined him, and each catching up an armful of wood, they were quickly offfor the railroad, Alex leading with the lantern.
Reaching the tracks, they hurried east, and a quarter mile distanthalted, and began hastily building a huge bonfire between the rails.
"There," said Alex, as the flames leaped up, "that ought to stop her."
"And now, Mr. Moore, suppose we leave Dick here to tend the fire, and youand Billy and I hurry back to the station, and tackle the earth on thetrack. We may get enough off to let the train plow through."
"All right, certainly," agreed the farmer; and retracing their steps, thethree secured shovels and more lanterns at the depot, and soon were hardat work on the obstructed siding.
They had been digging some ten minutes when suddenly Billy paused."Listen," he said. "There's a horse coming, on the run." His father andAlex also ceased shoveling, and a moment later the quick pounding ofhorse's hoofs was plainly discernible.
"It must be something urgent to make a man drive like that in the dark,"said Mr. Moore.
The racing hoofs drew nearer, and placing his hands to his mouth hecried: "Hello! What's up?"
There was a sound of scrambling and plunging, and out of the darknesscame a man's excited voice: "How near am I to the station?"
"Right here below you!"
"Thank God! Run quick and tell the operator there has been a landslip inthe big cutting just beyond the river! My son discovered it when cominghome by the track from a party! I thought I could get here quicker thando anything else!"
For a moment Alex stood speechless at this further calamity, then oncemore dashed for the station. To reach Zeisler, two miles west of the cut,was the only hope for the Mail.
Rushing in to the instruments, he in feverish haste began calling "Z. Z,Z," he whirled. "Qk! Z, Z, WS!"
There was no answer. Z heard him no more than did the despatcher.
A feeling of despair settled upon the boy. But again returned the oldspirit of determination and contriving, and spinning about in his chair,he cast his eyes around the room for some suggestion. They halted at thebig stoneware water-cooler. With a cry he was on his feet, thinkingrapidly.
Only a few hours before, during an idle moment, the similarity of the bigjar to a gravity cell had occurred to him, and the speculation as towhether it could not be turned into a battery if need be.
Could he really make a battery of it? If he could, undoubtedly it wouldbe strong enough to so increase the current in the wire that both Zeislerand the despatcher could hear him.
He ran to a little storage closet at the rear of the room. Yes; there wasenough bluestone! But no copper, or zinc! What could he do for that?
As though directed by Providence, his gaze fell on the floor-board of theoffice stove. It was covered with a sheet of zinc! And even as he uttereda glad "Good!" there came the remembrance that at the house thatafternoon he had seen a fine new wash-boiler--with a thick copper bottom.
"That's it," cried Alex, again catching up the lantern and darting forthe door.
A short distance from the depot Alex was halted by a long, muffledwhistle from the east. "The Express," he exclaimed, and in keen anxietyawaited the next whistle. Would it be for the crossing this side of thebonfire, or--
It came, a series of quick, sharp toots. Yes; they had seen the fire!
"Thank Heaven! She's safe at any rate," said Alex, at once running on.
A few minutes later he burst into Mrs. Moore's kitchen. The farmer's wifewas at the stove, preparing coffee for them.
"Mrs. Moore, where is your new copper-bottomed boiler? I must have it,quick," said Alex.
"What! My new wash-boiler?"
"Yes; the copper-bottomed one. It's a matter of life and death!"
The astonished woman hesitated, then, wonderingly, pointed toward theouter kitchen. Alex ran thither, and quickly reappeared with the fine newboiler on his shoulder.
"And I must have that kettle of boiling water," he added, on a thought."I'll explain later." And catching it from the stove, he rushed away.
A
s he ran Alex further thought out his plans, and once more at thestation, he placed the kettle on the office stove, emptied the bluestoneinto it, and poked up the fire.
Then, with a hammer and chisel, he attacked the copper bottom of theboiler.
He was still pounding and cutting when presently there was the sound ofhurried footsteps without, the door flew open, and a voice exclaimed: "InHeaven's name, young man, what are you doing? Why are you not at yourwire, trying to stop the other train?"
It was none other than the division superintendent of the road, who hadbeen aboard the Sunset.
Only pausing a moment in his work, Alex replied: "I can't reach anybody,sir, the wire is so weak. I am making a battery of that water-cooler, tostrengthen it. It's the only hope, sir."
The superintendent uttered a horrified exclamation, then quickly added:"Here, can't I help you?"
"Yes, sir," replied Alex, promptly. "Lift up the stove and slide out thefloor-board. I must have the sheet of zinc off it."
And a few minutes later a group of passengers from the stalled train,seeking the cause of delay, paused in the doorway to gaze in blankastonishment at the spectacle of the division superintendent of theMiddle Western, his coat off, energetically working under the directionof his youngest operator.
IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FLOOR, THE CENTER OF ALL EYES,HURRIEDLY WORKING WITH CHISEL AND HAMMER.]
"There you are, my lad," said the superintendent. "What next?"
"Get a stick, sir, and stir the bluestone in the kettle. We must have itdissolved if the battery is to work the moment we connect it to thewire."
The copper bottom of the boiler was at last cut through, and hastilydoubling it over several times, in order that it would lie flat in thecrock, Alex turned his attention to the zinc on the stove-board.
The scene in the little station had now become dramatic--the crowd ofpassengers, increased until it half filled the room, looking on instrained silence, or talking in whispers; the tall figure of thesuperintendent at the stove, busily stirring the kettle, and in themiddle of the floor, the center of all eyes, the fourteen-year-old boyhurriedly working with chisel and hammer, seemingly only conscious of thetask before him and the necessity of making the most of every minute.
The zinc was cut, and hurriedly folding it as he had the copper, Alexsprang to his feet, and running to the cupboard, dragged out a bundle ofwire, and began sorting out a number of short ends.
"How much longer?" said the superintendent in a tense voice. "The trainshould be at Zeisler now."
"Just a minute. But she's sure to be a little late, from the fog," saidAlex, hopefully, never pausing. "Has the bluestone dissolved, sir?"
"All but a few lumps."
"Then that'll do. Now please lift down the water-cooler, sir, and placeit by the table."
As the superintendent complied all conversation ceased, and the crowd,moving hurriedly out of the way, looked on breathlessly, then turned toAlex, on his knees, fastening two pieces of wire to the squares of copperand zinc.
This done, Alex dropped the square of copper to the bottom of the bigjar, hung the zinc from the top, connected one wire end to the groundconnection at the switchboard, and the other to the side of the key. Andthe task was complete.
"Now the kettle, sir," he said, dropping into his chair. Thesuperintendent seized the kettle, and emptied its blue-green liquid intothe cooler. The moment the water had covered the zinc Alex opened hiskey.
It worked strongly and sharply.
"Thank God! Thank God!" said the superintendent, fervently. "Now, hurry,boy!"
Already Alex was whirring off a string of letters. "Z, Z, Z, WS!" hecalled. "Qk! Qk! Z, Z--"
The line opened, and at the quick sharp dots that came Alex could notrestrain a cry of triumph. "It works! I've got him," he exclaimed. Thenrapidly he sent:
"Has Number 12 passed?"
The line again opened, and over the boy leaned a circle of white, anxiousfaces. Had the train passed? Had it gone on to destruction? Or--
The instruments clicked. "No! No! He says, no!" cried Alex.
And then, while the crowd about him relieved its pent-up feelings in wildshouts and hurrahs, Alex quickly sent the order to stop the train.
"And now three good cheers for the little operator," said one of thepassengers as Alex closed his key. In confusion Alex drew back in hischair, then suddenly recollecting the others who had taken part in thenight's work, he told the superintendent of the part played by Mr. Mooreand his sons, and of the sacrifice of Mrs. Moore's new wash-boiler.
"And then there was the man on the horse, who told us of the slide in thecut across the river. He was the real one to save the Mail," said Alex,modestly.
"I see you are as fair as you are ingenious," said the superintendent,smiling. "We'll look after them all, you may be sure. By the firstexpress Mrs. Moore shall have two, instead of one, of the finest boilersmoney can buy. And as for you, my boy, I'll see that you are given apermanent station within a year, if you wish to take it. We needresourceful operators like you."