"Yes, this is the contract camp. A Chicago call? Is it—Is it head-quarters? Oh, is this Mr. Breckenridge who is speaking? Shall I call Mr. Burford?"
Strong and clear across two hundred miles of storm the voice reached her, a hurrying command.
"Do not call your husband. No time. Operator says the wind raging here may break connections at any minute. Tell him that we have positive word that a tremendous rise is on the way. A cloudburst north of Huntsville started this new crest two hours ago. Moreover, a storm belt extends across the State, covering a district thirty miles wide directly north of you. Tell our engineers to spare neither money nor effort in making ready. Tell them, whatever else they must neglect, to save——"
Click!
The receiver dropped from Sally Lou's shaking hand. Not another sound came over the wire. She signalled frantically.
"Oh, if he had only told me! 'To save'—to save what? The machinery, the levee, the laterals—Oh, central, please, please!"
Still no sound. At last central's voice, a thin little whisper.
"Chicago connections broken ... terrible storm ... sorry can't reach——"
The thin little whisper dropped to silence.
"Mammy, take these babies. I'm going away." Sally Lou rolled Thomas Tucker off her lap and dashed away to Roderick's shack. Trembling, she poured out her ill news.