“Now, hold your finger tips over the black button at the inner end of the key, and hit down on it smartly.”
There was a click.
“That’s it. It has plenty of play, hasn’t it?”
“Works up and down about an inch, if that’s wot you mean,” growled Iowa, still puzzled. “But wot—”
“I’m going to give you a lesson in telegraphy and you are going to—”
Iowa saw, and exploded. “Well, of all the—Say, wot do you think—”
“All right!” Sharply, bravely, though inwardly steeling himself for catastrophe, the lad counted, “One!—Two!—”
Again he won. “Oh, go on!” sputtered Iowa, through gritting teeth. And the boy resumed.
“Hit the key a sharp rap! Pretty good. Now, two raps, one right after the other. Good.
“Now, those are what we call ‘dots.’ Remember. Now, press the key down, hold it for just a moment, and let it come up again. Very good. You would learn telegraphy quickly, Mr. Burns. That is what we call a ‘dash.’” With the situation apparently so well in hand, Wilson was beginning almost to enjoy it.