“My!” was all Tom could say when he returned to the tower, and flung himself into a chair in a dazed, overwhelmed way. “My! it all seems like a dream!”
[CHAPTER XII—“SUN, MOON AND STARS”]
“The Mercedes in the lead,” announced Ben Dixon.
“All right,” returned Tom Barnes.
The buzzer was going merrily; Tom was on his professional mettle and thoroughly enjoying himself. He was tallying off the information shouted down in sections through the tower skylight by his faithful assistant.
Ben, astride a cross arm beam of the old windmill, balanced an elongated telescope seaward focussed on several yachts engaged in a race.
It had been part of the day’s instructions received that morning from headquarters for the operators at Station Z to watch out and announce the order in which the yachts passed Rockley Cove. The information was wanted for newspapers and persons interested at the starting point of the race. The names and pennant colors of the various craft had been furnished to Tom, and Ben was able, with this basis to work from, to report like an expert.
“Druid second,” he announced sharply two minutes later.
The entire flotilla had passed within half an hour, and Ben descended into the operating room.
“That was easy and pleasant,” he observed.