The operator obeyed. There was no response. Carhart drew up an empty cracker box and sat down. Twenty minutes passed.
“Click—clickety—click—click,” said the instrument. The operator, in a husky voice, translated the message as it came in: “‘P. Carhart, chief west’n ext. S. & W.: On receipt of this you will stop all construction work until further instructions, by order of Vice-Pres. Chambers—H. L. Tiffany.’”
“That’s funny!” said the operator.
Carhart did not seem to hear the exclamation. He was frowning slightly, and his lips were moving. At length he said, “Take this:—
“To C. O’F. Bourke,
Barker Hills Station:—
“Have another try, old chap. You haven’t quite caught Hen Tiffany’s style yet.
“P. Carhart.”
The operator laughed softly and nervously as his deft fingers transmitted this personal communication.
“Got it all through?” asked the chief.
“Yes, sir; all through.”