“Then send this, very carefully,” Black continued hoarsely: “X-x-x—-a-a-a—-b-b-b.”
The operator repeated it. Black nodded. Once more the instrument clicked.
“The other box relay man signals that he has it,” nodded Black’s present operator.
“Listen! Everyone of you! Not a sound in this outfit,” commanded ’Gene Black.
For fully three minutes the intense silence continued. Then Black turned again to the operator, saying:
“Ask the other box relay man if anything has happened near him?”
A minute later Black’s operator reported:
“He says: ‘Yes; happened successfully.’”
“Good!” laughed Black, a look of fierce Joy lighting up his eyes. “Now, Reade, I guess you’ll admit yourself beaten. An electric spark has touched off a charge of giant powder under the roadbed. The rails have been blown skyward and a big hole torn out of the roadbed itself. Even if you had a wrecking crew at the spot at this moment the road couldn’t be prepared for traffic inside of twenty-four hours. NOW, will your through train reach Lineville tonight? Can your road save its charter _now_?”
Tom Reade’s face turned deathly white.