Three sudden flashes shot up into the sky, quickly, one after another.
“Now T.”
“Line,” said Tom.
The switch clicked, and the long misty column rose again, remaining for several seconds.
“Now O.”
“T’ree lines,” said Tom, getting excited.
“Now P—and be careful—it’s a big one.”
“I’m on de job,” said Tom, becoming more enthusiastic as he became more sure of himself. “Dot—line—line—dot.”
The letter was printed on the open page of the heavens and down in Barrel Alley two of the O’Connor boys sitting on the rickety railing watched the lights and wondered what they meant.
So, across the intervening valley to Westy’s home, the message was sent. The khaki-clad boy, with rolled-up sleeves, whose brown hand held the little porcelain switch, was master of the night and of the distance, and the other watched him admiringly.