Penny and Louise trudged slowly on toward the railroad tracks. They were too discouraged for much conversation, and avoided speaking of Mrs. Lear or the Burmasters. Sleepy Hollow had been washed away, but no one could tell them what had happened to the unfortunate ones caught in the valley.
“It doesn’t matter now,” Penny said dispiritedly, “but I know who masqueraded as the Headless Horseman. Joe Quigley.”
“The station agent!”
“Yes, he told me about it last night. Of course Mrs. Lear let him use her horse, and no doubt she encouraged him in the idea.”
“They did it to plague the Burmasters?”
“Joe thought he could bring Mr. Burmaster around to his way of thinking about the Huntley Dam.”
“How stupid everyone was,” Louise sighed. “If it hadn’t been for Mrs. Burmaster’s stubbornness, her husband might have given the money to save the dam. Then this dreadful disaster would have been prevented.”
Penny nodded absently. Her gaze was fixed upon a stout man just ahead who wore climbing irons on his heavy shoes. She nudged Louise.
“See that fellow?”
“Why, yes. What about him?”
“I’m sure he’s a telephone lineman. Probably he’s working on the line by the railroad.”
“Probably,” Louise agreed, without much interest.
“Come on,” Penny urged, quickening pace. “Let’s talk to him.”
The girls overtook the workman and fell into step. Penny questioned him and readily learned that he was working close by at the washed-out railroad bridge.
“We’re aiming to shoot a wire across the river,” the man volunteered. “It’s going to be one tough little job.”
“Mind if we go along?” Penny asked eagerly.
“It’s okay with me,” the telephone man consented. “Hard walking though.”
Flood waters had receded from the railroad right-of-way leaving a long stretch of twisted rails and slimey road-bed. They waded through the mud, soon coming to the break where the bridge had swung aside. Debris of every variety had piled high against the wrecked steel structure. Flood water boiled through the gap at a furious rate.
“I don’t see how they’ll ever get a cable across there,” Penny commented dubiously.
“Coast Guardsmen are helping us,” the lineman explained. “They’ll shoot it over with a Lyle gun—we hope.”
Penny and Louise wandered toward the gap in the roadbed. On both shores, linemen and cable splicers were hard at work. Coast Guardsmen already had set up their equipment and all was in readiness to shoot a cable across the river.
“Okay, let ’er go!” rang out the terse order. “Stand clear!”
A Coast Guardsman raised the Lyle gun. Making certain that the steel wire would run free, he released the trigger. The weighted cable flashed through the air in a beautiful arch only to fall short of its goal.
“Not enough allowance for the wind,” the guardsman said in disgust. “We’ll need a heavier charge.”
The gun was reloaded, and again the wire spun from its spool. Again it fell short of the far shore by three feet. Undaunted by failure, the men tried once more. This time the aim was true, and the heavy powder charge carried rod and cable to its mark.
“They’ve done it!” Penny cried jubilantly. “Now it shouldn’t be long before we get a wire connection with the outside world!”
Immediately telephone company men seized the flexible cable, anchoring it solidly. Heavy cables then were drawn across and made fast, permitting a courageous lineman in a bosun’s chair to work high above the turbulent river.
“If that cable should break, he’d be lost!” Louise said with a shudder. “It makes me jumpy to watch him.”
Fearlessly the man accomplished his task, suspending a temporary emergency telephone line. Cable splicers promptly carried the ends of the new cable to terminal boxes.
So absorbed was Penny in watching the task that for a time she forgot her own urgent need of a message wire. But as she observed the men talking over a test phone, the realization suddenly came to her that a through wire had been established west from Red Valley.
“Lou, they’ve done it!” she exclaimed. “The wire connection is made!”
“It does look that way.”
“If only I could use that test set to get my news story through to Dad!”
“Fat chance!”
“I’d still be the first to send out the story!” Penny went on excitedly. “It will do no harm to ask anyhow.”
Breaking away from Louise, she sought the lineman of her acquaintance. Eagerly she broached her request.
“Not a chance to use that line, Sister,” he answered impatiently. “Our ’phones are for testing purposes only.”
“But this is a very great emergency—”
“Sorry,” the lineman brought her up short. “You’ll have to put your call through the regular channels. Regulations.”
Baffled by the cold refusal, Penny turned away. Even though she knew the telephone man had no authority to grant her request, she was none the less annoyed.
“This is enough to drive one mad!” she complained to Louise. “It may be hours before the downtown telephone office will offer toll service.”
“Well, it does no good to fret about it,” her chum shrugged. “There’s nothing you can do.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” Penny muttered.
Her attention had been drawn to a man in a gray business suit who was talking earnestly to the fireman of the line gang.
“That’s Mr. Nordwall!” she announced.
Again abandoning Louise, she pushed through the throng of spectators. Touching the man’s arm to attract his attention, she said breathlessly:
“Mr. Nordwall, do you remember me?”
He gazed at her without recognition.
“I’m Penny Parker. I want to get a message through to my father.”
“Oh, yes, now I remember!” the telephone company manager exclaimed. “You’re trying to send a call through to Riverview.”
“Is there any reason why I can’t use the phone now—the test instrument?”
“Such a procedure would be very irregular.”
“But it would save hours in getting my story through,” Penny went on quickly. “Hundreds of persons are desperately in need of food and shelter. If the public can be aroused by newspaper publicity, funds will be subscribed generously. Mr. Nordwall, you must let me send my story!”
“This is a very great emergency,” the manager agreed. “I’ll see what can be done.”
Penny waited, scarcely daring to hope. However, Mr. Nordwall kept his word. To the delight of the girls, the call was put through. Within ten minutes Penny was summoned to the test box.
“You have your connection with Riverview,” she was told. “Go ahead.”
Penny raised the receiver to her ear. Her hand trembled she was so nervous and excited. She spoke tensely into the transmitter: “Hello, is this the Star office?”
“Anthony Parker speaking,” said the voice of her father.
“Dad, this is Penny! I have the story for you!”
She heard her father’s voice at the other end of the line but it became so weak she could not distinguish a word. Nor could he understand her. The connection had failed.