“We’ll have to wade,” he said, “but we’ll take a look.”
They reached the store and crawled in through a broken show-window. They had no difficulty to find wire, although it was on the floor. Only after a long search under the muddy waters did they secure a condenser. Neither wire nor condenser was any the worse for the wetting. From drawers and shelves, some awash and some high and dry, they took one article after another—receivers, a tuning coil, insulators, some large batteries. But they could find no spark-gap.
“Have you a repair-shop?” asked Roy. “And are there tools and materials in it?”
“Yes. It’s right back of the shop, and it is flooded, too.”
“Never mind that,” said Roy. “I’m used to water by this time.”
They waded into the shop. The water was about two inches below the level of the workbench.
“Good!” said Roy. “This will do fine!”
Skilfully he cut a block for the base, sawed some pieces for posts, and drilled them and fastened them upright at the proper distances from one another. He got a short, slender metal rod, cut it in half, ground the ends into sharp points and thrust them into his uprights. It was a very crude affair, but when properly wired up would work. The difficulty now was to get a key. None was to be found. They gathered up all the tools, wires and other things they would need, and left the shop. At the railway station the mayor’s messenger secured a telegraph-key. Roy said that he could alter it a trifle so that it would answer. Then, soaked but satisfied, they carried their materials to the very highest part of the city.
There Roy was made welcome in a private residence. Rapidly he fashioned an aerial. With the help of the owner of the house he suspended this aerial between a high tree near by and a chimney of the residence. He brought his lead-in wire through a window, rapidly wired up his instruments, and coupled on his batteries. As he pressed his key, a fat spark leaped between the points of his spark-gap. Skilfully he adjusted these and turned to his host.