“We’ll go over and see,” suggested Jerry. “Maybe Professor Snodgrass has just discovered a pink flea on a yellow dog, or has picked some new kind of July bug from a lady’s hat.”
As they neared the place they saw by a sign on the temporary wooden building that it was a telegraph office, and also one where wireless messages could be received and sent.
“It’s news from somewhere, evidently,” commented Ned.
They pushed their way through the press of people.
“What is it?” cried several. “Read it to us!”
“I will, if you’ll be quiet,” answered the man with the fluttering paper in his hand. “This is a wireless message I just received from Mr. Wescott Jackson. It was sent from his dirigible balloon Manhattan.”
“Read it!” cried the impatient throng.
“Here it is!” went on the man, and read as follows:
“‘We are disabled and are being blown out to sea in the grip of an upper-air hurricane! Send help, if possible!’”