"All right," said the light-keeper; "we will start the signal."
There was the driving of a stout piston; there was the stirring of a big wheel; there was the movement of other machinery; and there was finally--"What a noise overhead!" thought the listening Dave. It seemed as if five thousand bees all buzzing at once, twenty-five thousand crickets all shrilly piping at once, and fifty thousand wood-sawyers all sawing at once, had combined their noises and were forcing all through the flaming fog-trumpet above. For ten seconds Dave held his fingers in his ears. Then there was a blessed stillness, save as the play of the machinery interrupted it.
"What do you think of that?" asked Mr. Tolman, grinning broadly. "Some lung power left in it yet."
"Lung power! They can hear that down to the Cape of Good Hope. One is enough for both sides of the ocean."
"Want another? Time is 'most up. Here she goes!"
She went.
"Toot--buzz--boom--whiz--fizz-z-z--bim-m-m-m!"
Among the breakers tumbling on the sandy shores, along the face of weather-beaten island-edges, down amid the waves and up in the clouds echoed the sharp, strong, fog-piercing, ear-cutting blast. And wherever it went it said, "Of fog I warn-n-n-n-n!" for ten seconds.
In one of the intervals of rest Dave remarked, "Now that must be kept up as long as the fog lasts?"
"Of course."