“Couldn’t think of it,” he replied. “These boys are out for practical instruction, and I’m bound to see that they get it—all of ’em.”
“Queer mix-up, isn’t it?” said I, with a laugh. “Wish I could have seen the proceedings at the other end of the line.”
“So do I,” said the signal lieutenant, joining in my laughter; “but I’m afraid this last message has spoiled the fun over there. Well, perhaps it had gone far enough.”
“‘B’ station has finished transmitting, sir,” announced the youth above us. “Cambridge has just made ‘O.K.’”
“All right,” answered Kenryck, lining his glasses upon the opposite terminal. “Now we’ll get some results.”
“All ready,” said I, pulling my pencil from behind my ear and adjusting my note-book. “Let it come.”
There was an interval of waiting, but at last the opposite tower began to talk, and, as Kenryck passed the words to me, I spread upon the page this remarkable entry:
“Told Boardman mistake. Says he knows better. Also, that we’re blanked liars. Orcutt very uneasy: growing insubordinate. Proposes to smash Boardman and policeman too. Tried to pitch loose tiles down upon their heads. I stopped him. Tower door locked on our side. Which prevents murder. Lieutenant better come over at once.”
This was cheeringly warlike. I burst into a roar of ill-timed mirth, while Kenryck laid down his glasses and strode back and forth upon the roof, giving profane utterance to his perplexity and paying no heed to the calling-off of the signals from the hill.
I read over my last entry in the book, and roared again, which caused Kenryck to pause in his tramping, glare at me, and snap out, “Can’t you let me think? I’ve got to call a halt in this business somehow—and there you sit, braying like a Himalayan donkey, and rattling the last idea out of me! How about those car-load lots of advice? Come, suggest something!”