The Boys of the Wireless Part 12

"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 put for the door.

Tom urged hope and patience on his charge. The announcement that he had succeeded in getting a doctor started for Rockley Cove had worked a great change in the patient. He forgot his sufferings in his joy at the knowledge that help was on the way to his dying child at home.

It was about ten minutes later when there was a rattle of decrepit wheels 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 a comfortable bed for the injured man. They lifted him into the wagon box as 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 the doctor is in time to save your child."

Tom, left alone, returned to the tower. He felt well satisfied with the way affairs were progressing. He had been able to demonstrate some practicability to Station Z, and the fact encouraged him greatly.

The storm had subsided considerably. The rain had ceased entirely, and the wind came only in occasional gusts, diminis.h.i.+ng gradually in their violence.

It must have been an hour later when Tom, almost dozing in his chair before the operating table, gave a great start as a cheery signal whistle rang out from below.

"Ben," he soliloquized, quite glad to welcome a companion in his loneliness.

"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 into the 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 something exciting 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 as this, and kept watch for it. Our 'phone was all right, and I got the doctor 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 the storm is nothing much now. Our folks were delighted to think that our toy telegraph, as they call it, did something really useful, and they let me come down to stay all night."

"I'm glad of it, Ben," replied Tom. "Harry will be back soon. We've got a 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 a chair. 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 had discussed current topics, "heard anything from Mr. Edson lately?"

Tom's face fell instantly, as though the remark suggested some unpleasant and disturbing subject. He looked quite anxious.

"Yes, Ben," he replied, "I got a letter this morning. He will be here to-morrow."

"How's that?"

"It seems he has made his arrangement to go into paid service on the North 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 me yesterday that she had everything invested. She said that the first of the month she had some interest money coming in, and would send me a hundred 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, I felt pretty hopeful of getting the money from another source, but I'm disappointed 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 he said."

"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 to start in a more modest way. Mr. Edson is poor, and has got to realize right off from his investment here, he wrote me. Just think of it,"

added Tom, gazing about the room with longing enthusiastic eyes, "we've got to give it all up, maybe the chance of a lifetime, because we can't raise the money."

"How much do you need?" challenged a sharp voice suddenly, bringing both boys to their feet with a shock.