“Have you a rubber band in your pocket?” asked Jack. “I want it for the armature spring.”
“Why you are really not doing anything with it, Jack!” exclaimed his father.
“Yes, sir. I think I can make it go,” responded Jack with a little touch of elation. “And with only one magnet. But have you the rubber?”
“Here,” said Mr. Wells, snapping a rubber band from his pocketbook. “This do?”
“Just the thing. Thanks.” And while the two men looked on, Jack secured one end of the elastic to the little hook on the armature, and knotted the other about the tension thumb-screw.
That done, Jack caught up a hammer and smashed the useless coil to pieces, from the wreck, secured several intact ends of the fine wire, and with them quickly restored the burnt connections between the magnet and the binding-posts. And with a cry, half of jubilation and half of nervous excitement, he caught up the now roughly-restored instrument and ran toward an iron gas street-lamp. In the roadway a short distance from the lamp-post lay the burned-off end of the telegraph wire. Placing the instrument on the sidewalk, Jack ran for the wire, and dragged it also to the post.
Then, as the crowd, following his father and the hardware merchant, gathered about him, they saw him secure a piece of wire about the iron lamp-post, then to the instrument; and, dropping to a sitting position, place the instrument on his knees, catch up the telegraph line, and hold it to the other side of the relay.
Jack’s low cry of disappointment was echoed by his father. “No use. I was afraid of it, my boy,” said Mr. Orr resignedly.
There was a disturbance on the outskirts of the crowd, and the mayor appeared pushing his way through. “Didn’t you get that message off, Jack?” he cried excitedly.
“The fire was too quick for us,” said Mr. Orr. “Jack risked his life getting out one of the instruments. But it has proved useless.”