Hurriedly he re-entered the barn to learn the result.
“Well?” said West anxiously.
“There is current, but it’s too weak.” Jack’s voice quavered with his disappointment. “I suppose the rusty splices of that old fence offer too much resistance.
“But I’m not beaten yet,” he exclaimed, suddenly recovering his determination. Turning from the box, he began pacing up and down the floor. “I’ll figure it out somehow if I—oh!” With the cry Jack darted for the door, out, and toward the office.
The intoxicated roughs were again in possession. Quietly he made his way to a dark window adjoining the lighted window of the operating room—the window of a little store-room, where, the local operator had told him, the batteries were located.
The window was unlocked, and with little difficulty he succeeded in raising it. Cautiously he climbed within, and feeling about, found the row of glass jars. Quickly disconnecting two of them, he carried them to the window-sill, clambered out, and hastened with them to the barn.
“Now I’ve got it, Mr. West!” he cried. “I’ll have H again in fifteen minutes!”
West started to his feet. “Can’t I help you?”
“All right. Come on,” said Jack. And ten minutes later, working like beavers, they had transferred to the barn the entire office battery of twenty cells.
In nervous haste Jack connected the cells in series, then to the wire. Instantly the instrument closed with a solid click.