The zinc was cut, and hurriedly folding it as he had the copper, Alex sprang to his feet, and running to the cupboard, dragged out a bundle of wire, and began sorting out a number of short ends.
“How much longer?” said the superintendent in a tense voice. “The train should be at Zeisler now.”
“Just a minute. But she’s sure to be a little late, from the fog,” said Alex, hopefully, never pausing. “Has the bluestone dissolved, sir?”
“All but a few lumps.”
“Then that’ll do. Now please lift down the water-cooler, sir, and place it by the table.”
As the superintendent complied all conversation ceased, and the crowd, moving hurriedly out of the way, looked on breathlessly, then turned to Alex, on his knees, fastening two pieces of wire to the squares of copper and zinc.
This done, Alex dropped the square of copper to the bottom of the big jar, hung the zinc from the top, connected one wire end to the ground connection at the switchboard, and the other to the side of the key. And the task was complete.
“Now the kettle, sir,” he said, dropping into his chair. The superintendent seized the kettle, and emptied its blue-green liquid into the cooler. The moment the water had covered the zinc Alex opened his key.
It worked strongly and sharply.
“Thank God! Thank God!” said the superintendent, fervently. “Now, hurry, boy!”