Jim looked up at the trouble shooter, and went over to the foot of the pole. The man walked down, striking his spurs deep into the wood for safety.
“Hello!” said he. “School out?”
“For the day,” said Jim. “Any important work on the telephone line now?”
“Just trouble-shooting,” was the answer. “I have to spend three hours hunting these troubles, to one in fixing ’em up.”
“Do they take much technical skill?” asked Jim.
“Mostly shakin’ out crosses, and puttin’ in new carbons in the arresters,” replied the trouble man. “Any one ought to do any of ’em with five minutes’ instruction. But these farmers—they’d rather have me drive ten miles to take a hair-pin from across the binding-posts than to do it themselves. That’s the way they are!”
“Will you be out here to-morrow?” queried the teacher.
“Sure!”
“I’d like to have you show my class in manual training something about the telephone,” said Jim. “The reason we can’t fix our own troubles, if they are as simple as you say, is because we don’t know how simple they are.”
“I’ll tell you what I’ll do, Professor,” said the trouble man. “I’ll bring a phone with me and give ’em a lecture. I don’t see how I can employ the company’s time any better than in beating a little telephone sense into the heads of the community. Set the time, and I’ll be there with bells.”