CHAPTER 24 A BIG STORY

Penny despaired, fearing that she never could make her father understand what she had to tell him. Then unexpectedly the wire trouble cleared and Mr. Parker’s voice fairly boomed in her ear.

“Is that you, Penny? Are you all right?”

“Oh, yes, Dad!” she answered eagerly. “And so is Louise! We have the story for you—couldn’t get it out before.”

“Thought we never would hear from you again,” Mr. Parker said, his voice vibrant. “Your flash on the flood scooped the country. We’re still ahead of the other newspapers. Shoot me all the facts.”

Penny talked rapidly but distinctly. Facts had been imprinted indelibly on her memory. She had no need to refer to notes except to verify names. Now and then Mr. Parker interrupted to ask a question. When the story had been told he said crisply:

“You’ve done marvelously, Penny! But we’ll need more names. Get as complete a list of the missing as you can.”

“I’ll try, Dad.”

“And pictures. So far all we have are a few airplane shots of the flooded valley. Can you get ahold of a camera?”

“I doubt it,” Penny said dubiously.

“Try anyhow,” her father urged. “And keep on the lookout for Salt Sommers. He’s on his way there now with two reporters. They’re bringing in a portable wire photo set.”

“Then you plan to send flood pictures direct from here to Riverview?”

“That’s the set up,” Mr. Parker replied. “If you can get the pictures and have them waiting, we’ll beat every other paper in the country!”

“I’ll do my best,” Penny promised. “But it’s a hard assignment.”

She talked a moment longer before abandoning the test ’phone to one of the linemen. Seeking Louise, she repeated the conversation.

“But how can we get a camera?” her chum asked hopelessly. “Delta’s stores are under water—most of them at least.”

Though the situation seemed impossible, the girls tramped from one debris-clogged street to another. After an hour’s search they came upon a man who was snapping pictures with a box camera. Questioned by Penny, he agreed to part with it for twenty dollars.

“I haven’t that many cents,” Penny admitted. “But my father is owner of the Riverview Star. I’ll guarantee that you’ll receive your money later.”

“How do I know I’ll ever see you again?”

“You don’t,” said Penny. “You’ll just have to trust me.”

“You look honest,” the man agreed after a pause. “I’ll take a chance.”

He gave Penny the camera, together with three rolls of film. The girls carefully wrote down his name and address.

“Now to get our pictures,” Penny said, as she and Louise started on once more. “We’ll take a few of the streets. Then I want to get some human-interest shots.”

“How about the railroad station?” Louise suggested. “A great many of the refugees are being cared for there.”

Penny nodded assent. Hastening toward the depot, they paused several times to snap pictures they thought were especially suitable for newspaper reproduction.

Along the railroad right-of-way crews of men were hard at work, but it was evident that it would be days before train service could be resumed.

Penny and Louise went into the crowded waiting room of the depot. Joe Quigley had locked himself into the inner office, but even there he was surrounded by a group of argumentative young men.

“Reporters!” Penny observed alertly. “I knew it wouldn’t take them long to get here!”

The newspaper men were bombarding Quigley with questions, demanding to know when and how they could send out their newspaper copy.

“I can’t help you, boys,” he said regretfully. “It will be two hours at least before we have wire service. Better try the telephone company.”

Just then one of the newsmen spied Penny and her camera. Immediately he hailed her. The other reporters flocked about the two girls, offering to buy any of the films at fancy prices.

“Sorry,” Penny declined. “My pictures are earmarked for the Riverview Star.”

“What? Didn’t you hear?” one of the men bantered. “Their wire photo car broke down just this side of Hobostein. The Star won’t move in here before night. By then your pictures will be old stuff.”

“Better sell to us,” urged another.

Penny shook her head. She wasn’t sure whether or not the men were joking. In any case she meant to hold her pictures until her father released them.

Between Hobostein and Delta there was only one highway over which a car could pass. The arrival of newspaper men led Penny to believe that this road now was open.

“Dad told me to keep a sharp watch for Salt Sommers,” she said to Louise. “Let’s post ourselves by the road where we can see incoming cars.”

“What about the pictures we planned to take here?”

“I do want to snap one or two,” Penny admitted. “It’s embarrassing though, just to walk up to a group and ask to take a picture.”

As the girls debated, the door swung open. Into the already over-crowded room stumbled a new group of refugees.

Suddenly Penny’s gaze fastened upon a haggard woman who looked grotesque in a man’s overcoat many sizes too large for her. The face was half-buried in the high collar, and she could not see it plainly. Then the woman turned, and Penny recognized her.

“Mrs. Burmaster!” she cried.

The woman stared at the two girls with leaden eyes. She did not seem to recognize them.

“Oh, we’re so glad you’re safe!” Penny cried, rushing to her. “Your husband?”

Mrs. Burmaster’s lips moved, but no sound came. She seemed stunned by what she had gone through.

“Do you know what happened to Mrs. Lear?” Penny asked anxiously. “Have you heard?”

Even then Mrs. Burmaster did not speak. But a strange light came into her eyes.

“Tell me,” Penny urged. “Please.”

Her words seemed to penetrate the befogged mind of the dazed woman. Mrs. Burmaster’s lips moved slightly. Penny bent closer to hear.

“Mrs. Lear is dead,” the woman whispered. “She was drowned when she saved me.”