"Eat it all," he said; "you're welcome."
Prescott ate voraciously and dried his clothing before the fire in a little stove.
The telegraph instrument on a table in a corner kept up a monotonous ticking, to which the operator paid no attention. But it was a soothing sound to Prescott, and with the food and the heat and the restful atmosphere he began to feel sleepy. The lank youth said nothing, but watched his guest languidly and apparently without curiosity.
Presently the clicking of the telegraph instrument increased in rapidity and emphasis and the operator went to the table. The rapid tick aroused Prescott from the sleep into which he was falling.
"Tick-tack, tick-tack, tick-tack," went the instrument. A look of interest appeared on the face of the lank youth.
"That instrument seems to be talking to you," said Prescott.
"Yes, it's saying a few words," replied the operator.
"Tick-tack, tick-tack, tick-tack!" went the instrument.
"It's a friend of mine farther up the line," said the boy. "Would you like to hear what he's saying?"
"If you don't mind," replied Prescott.