“I wonder where?”
“I don’t know. I heard he’d gone out west somewhere, changed his name, and was trying to get a berth in a new school.”
The two lads made their way to a telegraph office, and, explaining matters to the agent, he kindly offered to rush the messages for them. Jack sent one to his father, requesting an answer as soon as possible.
“Now we’ll have to wait a bit,” suggested Jack. “Come on for a walk around town.”
They were back at the office in a comparatively short time, however, and waited there while the instruments nervously clicked off their messages of cheer or sadness.
“Here comes one for you,” the operator suddenly said, and Tom stared at the affairs of brass and rubber, vainly wishing that he could understand the Morse code. Finally the agent handed over a moist slip.
“Sorry I have no good news for your chum,” Mr. Fitch wired his son. “Have communicated with Sydney agency and they confirm report. Kangaroo may not be lost, but she is missing. Can I do anything else?”
For a moment there was silence between Jack and Tom, and then the former said:
“Well, it isn’t as bad as it might be. Only missing. She may be afloat, and may limp into port. It will be hard waiting, though, for you, Tom.”
“But I’m not going to wait!” cried our hero.