"If there was only one of these telegraph operators—guys, as I used to call them—star-gazing, we'd pass the word to him, all right."
"A word to the guys, hey? Come on, hustle!"
A strenuous climb brought them to the brow of a hill from which the lights of several villages, and the more numerous lights of Poughkeepsie could be seen.
"Now, Tomasso, see-a if you know-a de lesson—queeck! Connect that up and—look out you don't step on the tube! I wish we had a pedestal or something. When you're roaming, you have to do as the Romans do, hey? Open your Manual to page 232. No!" he said hurriedly looking over Tom's shoulder. "Care of the fingernails! That's 259 you've got. What do you think we're going to do, start a manicure parlor? There you are—now keep the place to make assurance doubly sure. Here goes! Hello, folks!" he called, as he swung the long shaft fan-wise across the heavens. "Now, three dots for S?"
"Right," said Tom.
Roy sent three short flashes into the night, then paused and sent a longer flash of about three seconds. Another pause, then three of the longer flashes, then a short one, two long ones and a short one.
"S-T-O-P—stop," he said.
"Right-o," concurred Tom.
"Now F—two shorts, a long and a short—is it?"
"You know blamed well it is," said Tom.