Penny got only part of the message and guessed at the rest. Nervously, at very slow speed, she tapped out in Morse code that the train had been washed off the track.
The dispatcher’s next message came very slowly, disclosing that he knew from Penny’s style of sending that he was talking to an amateur telegrapher.
“Where’s Joe Quigley?” he asked in code.
“Don’t know,” Penny tapped again. “Station’s half under water. Can you send help?”
“Shoot me the facts straight,” came the terse order.
Penny described what had happened at Huntley Dam and told how the railroad bridge had washed out. In return the dispatcher assured her that a relief crew would be sent without delay.
“Stay on the job until relieved,” was his final order.
Weak with excitement, Penny leaned back in her chair. Help actually was on the way! The dispatcher would notify the proper authorities and set in motion the wheels of various relief organizations. For the moment she had done all she could.
She listened tensely as the dispatcher’s crisp call flashed over the wire. He was notifying stations farther up the line to hold all trains running into the valley. Repeatedly Penny heard the call “W-F” which she took to be Witch Falls. It went unanswered.
Half sick with dread, she waited, hoping for a response. It was likely, almost a certainty that the station had been swept away, for the town would have been squarely in the path of the flood. What had happened to old Mrs. Lear and the Burmasters? Penny tried not to think about it.