“’Spose so. Why didn’t you come earlier?”
“Because we came later,” replied Chester; “have you got a telephone in the house?”
“’Course we have,—what of it?”
“We want to use it at once to call up Boothbay Harbor.”
“This ain’t no time to bother with such things; you’ll have to wait till morning. What bus’ness had you to wake me up?”
“See here,” said Alvin, who was in no mood for trifling, “we have come a good many miles to reach a telephone; this is a case of life and death; we haven’t a minute to spare.”
“Don’t make no difference; you’ll have to wait till to-morrer morning.”
“Give me the number of the Chief of police at Boothbay.”
As Alvin made the peremptory request, he slipped two silver half dollars into the bony hand of the young man. This effected the purpose intended. He became wide awake on the instant, stepped briskly to the desk, caught up the receiver of the instrument, asked and answered several questions, and after a brief wait, nodded to Alvin, who with Chester stood at his elbow.
“Here you are,” he said, passing the receiver to the former; “Art Spofford is the chief of police at Boothbay, and he’s at t’other end of the wire.”