It was now evident to Bunny that the stranger was older than he had seemed at first. His face was lined with wrinkles. His back was twisted and bent, as if from rheumatism. When he spoke, his voice quavered uncertainly.
"My wife and I, we live back there in that little frame house. She's just getting over a long spell of sickness, and it is necessary for me to be in touch with the Harrison City doctor night and day. But now my telephone won't work; it's gone dead."
"We'll leave word at Harrison City."
The old man shook his head despairingly. "It's a bad time of week to get anything done. This is Saturday, you know, and they might not come—they might not come till Monday."
"Well, what do you expect us to do, anyhow?" demanded the irritated Specs.
The old gentleman's hand trembled as he gestured. "I—I don't know. Perhaps one of you could go to the telephone office and maybe stay right there and explain how much we needed the 'phone fixed and not give up till they started somebody out here to fix it."
There were five seconds of uncomfortable silence, broken by Bunny. "We might do better than that. If Handy were here—"
"Roundy knows a lot about telephones," suggested Jump.
"Not very much," Roundy admitted slowly. "But I can tell if any of the wires are disconnected, or if the battery is dead, or if anything big is the matter with the instrument."