Frank Armstrong, Drop Kicker

by Matthew M. Colton

"Hurrah!" shouted Frank. "Now we'll see if any one hears me."

Taking a broken end of wire in each hand he began tapping them together. Carefully he called: F-F-F-F-F-F; JC-JC-JC-JC. These were the calls of his own room and of Jimmy's. He was using the ends of the broken wire to send Morse signals. After each attempt, with fingers moistened to accentuate their sensitiveness to any return signal, he waited. Thus calling and waiting he kept on for several minutes. "They're probably all in the Library, but Murphy ought to hear me if the wire is cut in at the Station."

Varying the call of Q, which was the Station, with calls of F and JC, Frank kept on, but with the strain of the wire pulling on his foot and cutting into the flesh he was nearly exhausted.

Suddenly in response to his call of F-F-F came a shock which made him jump. Some one had opened a telegraph key somewhere on the line. The current had been broken and closed. He tapped slowly, making the letters very plain so that no one could misunderstand, "C-o-m-e q-u-i-c-k h-a-u-n-t-e-d h-o-u-s-e F-r-a-n-k." Over and over he repeated his message. Suddenly there came a succession of electric thrills along the wire as if a key had been rattled rapidly, and Frank received the signals plainly through his moistened fingers "O-K." He had been heard and understood. With a sigh of relief, he let go of the loose end of the wire and shook it free of his foot. The released wire went swishing down the roof and the connection was broken for good.

Carefully Frank made his way back to the skylight and backed down the ladder into the darkness beneath. "I'll be ready for them—if they come," he added dubiously. "And the back room where the board is off is more comfortable in spite of the rats than this sharp roof." Down among the startled birds that beat madly around the attic he went again, down the second ladder to the floor, and then made his way to the back room, where he settled himself on the window ledge waiting for his rescue, if rescue it was to be.

Frank found himself in comfort compared to his position on the roof, but he soon began to wonder whether he had not better, after all, take a chance of a drop in the darkness. He got up, examined the opening, found it too small to squeeze through, and was preparing to make the best of it on his ledge, when his ear caught the sound of a step in the lower part of the house. He stood up with body bent forward listening intently.

There was no imagination about it this time. It was a slow step, sometimes shuffling, then again firm and quick. Occasionally it stopped, seemingly irresolute. Then it began again. Whatever or whoever it was, the owner of the step appeared to be going the round of the rooms. Now it was on the stairs ascending. Frank listened with his heart in his mouth. Slowly the step came on, reaching the landing, stopped, began again and came on shufflingly in his direction. Frank stepped on the window ledge and reached for the opening between the boards. Suddenly a light flared up, and through the open door Frank saw a boy standing with a lighted match in his hand. It lit the gloom only for a moment and went out in the draft. Frank, startled by the sight, gave a yell. There was an answering groan, the sound of a falling body and then silence. Almost at the same moment shouts were heard outside. Frank sprang to the opening and answered the hail with all the power of his lungs: "Here, here, 'round at the back of the house!" There was the sound of crashing through the tangle of shrubbery and a voice from below—Jimmy's voice—calling, "What in thunder are you doing there?"

"Taking a moonlight meditation," returned Frank flippantly; "but hurry up, I've had enough. Rip off a board on one of the lower windows if you can. I'm in trouble up here."

Lights flashed below and the sound of several different voices came to Frank's ears. Reassured by the presence of his friends, Frank groped his way to the door in front of which his visitor had fallen. He found the huddled heap of humanity, touched the face and felt it warm, which relieved him greatly. From below came the sound of ripping wood and breaking glass, and, in another minute, Jimmy, with a lantern in his hand, bounded up the stairway, followed by Lewis and several other boys. All were astonished to see Frank, his face streaked with dust and grime, standing by the side of a prostrate figure. The rays of the lantern were directed to the face of the one on the floor.