“The place is deserted!” she thought with a sinking heart. “Joe Quigley must have taken to the hills when the flood came.”
Slowly Penny waded around the building, unwilling to acknowledge failure. Somehow she had to get word of the disaster through to the outside world. Yet even if she did get inside the station, she was far from certain it would do any good. Telephone wires undoubtedly were down.
Penny made a complete circuit of the depot without seeing anyone. Sick with disappointment, she paused beside the glass-enclosed bay of the ticket office and peered inside. She could see no one. But as she pressed her face against the pane of glass she thought she heard the chatter of a telegraph instrument.
“That means there still must be a wire connection!” she thought hopefully.
Nearby, the flood had lodged a small board against the depot wall. Seizing it, Penny smashed the lower pane of glass with one well-aimed blow.
She scrambled through the opening, crawled over the operator’s table and dropped to the floor. The little ticket office was deserted though Joe Quigley’s hat still lay on the counter.
“If only I knew how to telegraph!” Penny despaired, hearing again the chatter of the instrument. “Just knowing Morse code won’t help me much.”
The telegraph sounder was signaling the station call for Delta: “D-A, D-A, D-A.” Over and over it was repeated.
Penny hesitated and then went to the instrument. She opened the key and answered with the station call, “D-A.”
“Where have you been for the past twenty minutes?” the train dispatcher sent angrily at top speed. “What’s happened to No. 17?”