“Are you figuring upon giving your audience an exhibition of ‘slow’ sending?” asked Billy Dumars, but John denied the soft impeachment and declared that he believed the talent up in Mars would put the earthly inhabitants to the blush, and the idea was taken up and talked over until everyone was enthused. The day of the tournament was fixed for Washington’s birthday.
“I will show them how I used to send in the spring of ’73,” said Marsh Greene.
“Yes, and I will give them an illustration of fast work, right off the reel, as I took it from C. F. Stumm for the edification of Professor Morse,” exclaimed Louis A. Somers, as he carelessly toyed with a very noticeable medal pinned to his coat lapel, bearing some mystic telegraphic symbols.
It being all settled about the tournament, its date and place, the club resolved itself into its original form and several hours were devoted to getting acquainted with the president-makers and welcoming them to this haven of rest.
“Bug” sending versus hand sending was taken up and discussed, the old-timer advocating the old style and giving his reasons therefor, but this was all dissipated when a coterie of “bug” men rallied to the support of their favorite weapon, giving some startling illustrations of the efficacy of their machine.
“It puts you on your mettle,” cried one. “You never know till you make the sense if it is going to be ‘pome,’ ‘home’ or ‘some.’ It keeps your brain active and working and does not allow you to get mentally lazy with your work, which, unhappily, is too much the case with all telegraph operators.”
“You have your nerve to make such a statement, but I really believe you are more than half right after all,” said George Baxter, “for I know myself that it is easier to sleep than to think.”
“Yes, and it is more blessed to send than to receive,” broke in Al Stoner, who had been an interested listener to the discussion.
“Yes, the ‘bug’ has come to stay until I have improved my flash light key, which will send and do its own receiving at the rate of 1,000 messages an hour,” interposed Nick Burke, and his audience smiled a little bit unbelievingly.
“We will have a song from H. C. Maynard,” but he asked to be excused, as he believed he was getting signals from the Earth.