CHAPTER XVIII.

THE ARRIVAL.


When Kate and her father reached Aunt Judy's cabin, the boys had not yet
arrived, but they were anxiously expected by about a dozen colored
people of various ages and sizes, and by two or three white men, who
were sitting under the trees waiting to see the "telegraph come."

Telegraph apparatus and wires were not at all novel in that part of the
country, but this was to be the first time that anything of the kind had
been set up in that neighborhood, in those familiar old woods about
Crooked Creek.

And then it must be remembered, too, that most of these interested
people were "stockholders." That was something entirely novel, and it is
no wonder that they were anxious to see their property.

"I hopes, Mah'sr John," said Aunt Judy to Mr. Loudon, "dat dem dar
merchines ain't a-goin' to bust up when dey're lef' h'yar all alone by
theyselves."

"Oh, there's no danger, Aunt Judy," said Mr. Loudon, "if you don't
meddle with them. But I suppose you can't do that, if the boys are going
to case them up, as they told me they intended doing."

"Why, bress your soul, Mah'sr John, ye needn't be 'fraid o' my techin'
'em off. I wouldn't no more put a finger on 'em dan I'd pull de trigger
ov a hoss pistol."

"There isn't really any danger in having these instruments in the house,
is there, father?" asked Kate, when she and Mr. Loudon had stepped out
of the cabin where Aunt Judy was busy sweeping and "putting things to
rights" in honor of the expected arrival.

"That depends upon circumstances," said Mr. Loudon. "If the boys are
careful to disconnect the instruments and the wires when they leave the
cabins, there is no more danger than there would be in a brass clock.
But if they leave the wires attached to the instruments, lightning might
be attracted into the cabins during a thunder-storm, and Aunt Judy might
find the 'merchines' quite as dangerous as a horse-pistol."

"But they mustn't leave the wires that way," said Kate. "I sha'n't let
Harry forget it. Why, it would be awful to have Aunt Judy and poor old
Lewston banged out of their beds in the middle of the night."

"I should think so," said Mr. Loudon; "but the boys--I am sure about
Harry--understand their business, to that extent, at least. I don't
apprehend any accidents of that kind."

Kate was just about to ask her father if he feared accidents of any
kind, when a shout was heard from the negroes by the roadside.

"Dar dey come!" sang out half-a-dozen voices, and, sure enough, there
was the wagon slowly turning an angle of the road, with the mounted
members of the Board riding close by its side.

All now was bustle and eagerness. Everybody wanted to do something, and
everybody wanted to see. The wagon was driven up as close to the cabin
as the trees would allow; the boys jumped down from their seats and
saddles the horses' bridles were fastened to branches overhead; white,
black, and yellow folks clustered around the wagon; and some twenty
hands were proffered to aid in carrying the load into the cabin.

Harry was the grand director of affairs. He had a good, loud voice, and
it served him well on this important occasion.

"Look out, there!" he cried. "Don't any of you touch a box or anything,
till I tell you what to do. They're not all to go into Aunt Judy's
cabin. Some things are to go across the creek to Lewston's house. Here,
John William and Gregory, take this table and carry it in carefully; and
you, Dick, take that chair. Don't be in a hurry. We're not going to open
the boxes out here."

"Why, Harry," cried Kate, "I didn't know there were to be tables and
chairs."

"To tell the truth, I didn't think of it either," said Harry; "but we
must have something to put our instruments on, and something to sit on
while we work them. Mr. Lyons reminded us that we'd have to have them,
and we got these in Hetertown. Had to go to three places to get them
all, and one's borrowed, anyway. Look out there, you, Bobby! you can't
carry a chair. Get down off that wheel before you break your neck.

"Lor' bress your heart, Mah'sr Harry, is ye got a bed? I never did
'spect ye was a-goin' to bring furniture," cried Aunt Judy, her eyes
rolling up and down in astonishment and delight. "Dat's a pooty cheer.
Won't hurt a body to sot in dat cheer when you all ain't a-usin' it,
will it?"

"Blow you right through the roof, if you set on the trigger," said Tom
Selden; "so mind you're careful, Aunt Judy."

"Now, then," cried Harry, "carry in this box. Easy, now. We'll take all
the wire over on the other side. You see, Tom, that they leave the wire
in the wagon. Do you know, father, that we forgot to bring a hammer or
anything to open these boxes?"

"There's a hammer under the seat of the buggy. One of you boys run and
get it."

At the word, two negro boys rushed for the buggy and the hammer.

"A screw-driver would do better," said Harvey Davis.

"One-eyed Lewston's got a screw-driver," said one of the men.

"Dar Lewston!" cried John William Webster. "Dar he! Jist comin' ober de
bridge."

"Shet up!" cried Aunt Judy. "Don't 'spect he got him screw-driber in him
breeches pocket, does ye? Why don' ye go 'long and git it?"

And away went John William and two other boys for the screw-driver.

In spite of so many cooks, the broth was not spoiled; and after a
reasonable time the beautifully polished instruments were displayed to
view on the table in Aunt Judy's cabin.

Everybody looked with all their eyes. Even Mr. Loudon, who had often
examined telegraphic apparatus, took a great interest in this, and the
negroes thought there was never anything so wonderful. Especially were
those delighted who owned stock.

"Some o' dat dar's mine," said a shiny-faced black boy. "Wonder ef dat
little door-knob's my sheer."

"You go 'long, dar," said Dick Ford, giving him a punch in the ribs with
his elbow. "Dat little shiny screw's 'bout as much as you own."

As for the members of the Board, they were radiant. There was the
telegraphic apparatus (or a part of it) of the Crooked Creek Telegraph
Company, and here were the officers!

Each one of them, except Brandeth Price, explained some portion of the
instruments to some of the bystanders.

As for Brandeth, he had not an idea what was to be done with anything.
But he had a vote in the Board. He never forgot that.

"Can't ye work it a little, Mah'sr Harry!" asked Gregory Montague.

"Dat's so!" cried a dozen voices. "Jist let's see her run a little,
Mah'sr Harry, please!" Even Kate wanted to see how the things worked.

Harry explained that he couldn't "run it" until he had arranged the
battery and had made a great many preparations, and he greatly
disappointed the assembly by informing them that all that was to be done
that day was to put the instruments in their respective houses (or
stations, as the boys now began to call the cabins), and to put up the
cases which were to protect them when not in use. These cases were like
small closets, with movable tops, and there was great fear that they
would not fit over the tables that had been brought from Hetertown.

On the next day, Mr. Lyons had promised to come over and show them how
to begin the work.

"There'll be plenty for you fellows to do," said Harry, "when we put up
the wires."




CHAPTER XIX.

CONSTRUCTING THE LINE.


The next day was a day of hard work for the Board of Managers. Mr.
Lyons, who took the greatest interest in the enterprise, got another
operator to take his place at the Hetertown station, and came over to
help the boys.

Under his direction, and with his help, they arranged the instruments
and the batteries, sunk the ground-wires, and, in a general way, put the
office-apparatus in working order. When night came, there were still
some things that remained to be done in the two stations, but the main
part of the office arrangements had been satisfactorily concluded, under
Mr. Lyons's supervision.

Now, it only remained to put up the wire; and this was a piece of work
that interested the whole neighborhood. There had been lookers-on enough
while the instruments were being put in working order, but the general
mind did not comprehend the mechanism and uses of registers and keys and
batteries.

Any one, however, could understand how a telegraphic wire was put up.
And what was more, quite a number of persons thought they knew exactly
how it ought to be put up, and made no scruple of saying so.

Tony Kirk was on hand--as it was not turkey season--and he made
himself quite useful. Having had some experience in working under
surveyors, he gave the boys a good deal of valuable advice, and, what
was of quite as much service, he proved very efficient in quieting the
zeal of some ambitious, but undesirable, volunteer assistants.

Certain straight pine-trees, at suitable distances from each other, and,
as nearly as possible, on a right line between the two cabins, were
selected as poles, and their tops were cut off about twenty-five feet
from the ground. All trees and branches that would be apt to interfere
with the wires were cut down, out of the way.

At one time--for this matter of putting up the wire occupied several
days--there were ten or twelve negro men engaged in cutting down trees,
and in topping and trimming telegraph poles.

Each one of these men received forty cents per day from the company, and
found themselves. It is probable that if the Board had chosen to pay but
twenty cents, there would have been quite as many laborers, for this was
novel and very interesting work, and several farm-hands threw up their
situations for a day or two and came over to "cut fur de telegraph."

When the poles were all ready on each side of the creek, the insulators,
or glass knobs, to which the wires were to be attached, were to be
fastened to them, a foot or two from the top.

This was to be done under Harry's direction, who had studied up the
theory of the operation from his books and under Mr. Lyons.

But the actual work proved very difficult. The first few insulators
Harry put up himself. He was a good climber, but not being provided with
the peculiar "climbers" used by the men who put up telegraph wires, he
found it very hard to stay up at the top of a pole after he had got
there, especially as he needed both hands to nail to the tree the wooden
block to which the insulator was attached.

In fact, he made a bad business of it, and the insulators he put up in
this way looked "shackling poorly," to say nothing of his trowsers,
which suffered considerably every time he slipped part way down a pole.

But here Tony Kirk again proved himself a friend in need. He got a
wagon, and drove four miles to a farm-house, where there was a long,
light ladder. This he borrowed, and brought over to the scene of
operation.

This ladder was not quite long enough to reach to the height at which
Harry had fastened his insulators, but it was generally agreed that
there was no real necessity for putting them up so high.

The ladder was arranged by Tony in a very ingenious way. He laid it on
the ground, with the top at the root of the tree to be climbed. Then he
fastened a piece of telegraph wire to one side of the ladder, passed it
loosely around the tree, and fastened it to the other side. Then, as the
ladder was gradually raised, the wire slipped along up the tree, and
when the ladder was in position it could not fall, although it might
shake and totter a little. However, strong arms at the bottom held it
pretty steady, and Harry was enabled to nail on his insulators with
comparative ease, and in a very satisfactory manner.

After a while, Tony took his place, and being a fellow whom it was
almost impossible to tire, he finished the whole business without
assistance.

It may be remarked that when Tony mounted the ladder, he dispensed with
the wire safeguard, depending upon the carefulness of the two negro men
who held the ladder from below.

The next thing was to put up the wire itself, and this was done in
rather a bungling manner, if this wire were compared with that of
ordinary telegraph lines.

It was found quite impossible to stretch the wire tightly between the
poles, as the necessary appliances were wanting.

Various methods of tightening were tried, but none were very successful;
and the wire hung in curves, some greater and some less, between the
poles.

But what did it matter? There was plenty of wire, and the wind had not
much chance to blow it about, as it was protected by the neighboring
treetops.

There was no trouble in carrying the wire over the creek, as the bridge
was very near, and as trees close to each bank had been chosen for
poles, and as the creek was not very wide, the wire approached nearer to
a straight line where it passed over the water than it did anywhere
else.

At last all was finished. The "main line" wire was attached to the
copper office-wire. The batteries were charged, the register was
arranged with its paper strip, and everything was ready for the
transmission of messages across Crooked Creek.

At least, the Board hoped that everything was ready. It could not be
certain until a trial was made.

The trial was made, and everybody in the neighborhood, who could get
away from home came to see it made.

Harry was at the instrument on the Akeville side, and Mr. Lyons (the
second operator of the company had not been appointed) attended to the
other end of the line, taking his seat at the table in Aunt Judy's
cabin, where Mr. and Mrs. Loudon, Kate, and as many other persons as the
room would hold, were congregated.

As President of the company, Harry claimed the privilege of sending the
first message.

Surrounded by the Board, and a houseful of people besides, he took his
seat at the instrument, and after looking about him to see if everything
was in proper order, he touched the key to "call" the operator at the
other end.

But no answer came. Something was wrong. Harry tried again, but still no
answer. He jumped up and examined the instrument and the battery.

Everybody had something to say, and some advice to give.

Even old "One-eyed Lewston" pushed his way up to Harry, and exclaimed:

"Oh, Mah'sr Harry! Ef you want to grease her, I got some hog's-lard up
dar on dat shelf."

But Harry soon thought he found where the fault lay, and, adjusting a
screw or two, he tried the key again. This time his call was answered.

"Click! click! click! click!" went the instrument.

Wild with excitement, everybody crowded closer to Harry, who, with
somewhat nervous fingers, slowly sent over the line of the Crooked Creek
Telegraph Company its first message.

When received on the other side, and translated from the dots and dashes
of the register, it read thus:

    To Kate.--Ho-ow are you?

Directly the answer came swiftly from the practised fingers of Mr.
Lyons:

    To Harry.--I am very well.

This message had no sooner been received and announced than Harry,
followed by every one else, rushed out of the house, and there, on the
other side of the creek, he saw his father and mother and Kate and all
the rest hurrying out of Aunt Judy's cabin.

Mr. Loudon waved his hat and shouted; "Hurrah!"

Harry and the Board answered with a wild "Hurrah!"

Then everybody took it up, and the woods rang with, "Hurrah! hurrah!
hurrah!"

The Crooked Creek Telegraph Line was a success.




CHAPTER XX.

AN IMPORTANT MEETING OF THE BOARD.


Now that the telegraphic line was built, and in good working order, it
became immediately necessary to appoint another operator, for it was
quite evident that Harry could not work both ends of the line.

It was easy enough to appoint an operator, but not so easy for such
person to work the instruments. In fact, Harry was the only individual
in the company or the neighborhood who understood the duties of a
telegrapher, and his opportunities for practice had been exceedingly
limited.

It was determined to educate an operator, and Harvey Davis was chosen as
the most suitable individual for the position. So, day after day was
spent by Harry and Harvey, the one in the cabin of "One-eyed Lewston,"
and the other in that of Aunt Judy, in steady, though often
unsatisfactory, practice in the transmission and reading of telegraphic
messages.

Of course, great interest was taken in their progress, and some members
of the Board were generally present at one or the other of the stations.
Kate often came over to Aunt Judy's cabin, and almost always there were
other persons present, each of whom, whenever there was a chance, was
eager to send a telegraphic message gratis, even if it were only across
Crooked Creek.

Sometimes neither Harry nor Harvey could make out what the other one was
trying to say, and then they would run out of the station and go down to
the bank of the creek and shout across for explanations. A great many
more intelligible messages were sent in this way, for the first few
days, than were transmitted over the wire.

Tony Kirk remarked, after a performance of this kind, "It 'pears to me
that it wasn't no use to put up that ar wire, fur two fellows could a
been app'inted, one to stand on each side o' the creek, and holler the
messages across."

But, of course, such a proceeding would have been extremely irregular.
Tony was not accustomed to the strict requirements of business.

Sometimes the messages were extremely complicated. For instance, Harry,
one day about noon, carefully telegraphed the following:

    I would not go home. Perhaps you can get something to eat from Aunt
    Judy.

As Harvey translated this, it read:

    I would gph go rapd gradsvlt bodgghip rda goqbsjcm eat dkpx Aunt
    Judy.

In answer to this, Harvey attempted to send the following message:

    What do you mean by eating Aunt Judy?

But Harry read:

    Whatt a xdll mean rummmlgigdd Ju!

Harry thought, of course, that this seemed like a reflection on his
motives in proposing that Harvey could ask Aunt Judy to give him
something to eat, and so, of course, there had to be explanations.

After a time, however the operators became much more expert, and
although Harvey was always a little slow, he was very careful and very
patient--most excellent qualities in an operator upon such a line.

The great desire now, not only among the officers of the company, but
with many other folks in Akeville and the neighborhood, was to see the
creek "up," so that travel across it might be suspended, and the
telegraphic business commence.

To be sure, there might be other interests with which a rise in the
creek would interfere, but they, of course, were considered of small
importance, compared with the success of an enterprise like this.

But the season was very dry, and the creek very low. There were places
where a circus-man could have jumped across it with all his pockets full
of telegraphic messages.

In the mean time, the affairs of the company did not look very
flourishing. The men who assisted in the construction of the line had
not been paid in full, and they wanted their money. Kate reported that
the small sum which had been appropriated out of the capital stock for
the temporary support of Aunt Matilda was all gone. This report she made
in her capacity as a special committee of one, appointed (by herself) to
attend to the wants of Aunt Matilda. As the Treasurer of the company,
she also reported that there was not a cent in its coffers.

In this emergency, Harry called a meeting of the Board.

It met, as this was an important occasion, in Davis's corn-house,
fortunately now empty. This was a cool, shady edifice, and, though
rather small, was very well ventilated. The meetings had generally been
held under some big tree, or in various convenient spots in the woods
near the creek, but nothing of that kind would be proper for such a
meeting as this, especially as Kate, as Treasurer, was to be present.
This was her first appearance at a meeting of the Board. The boys sat on
the corn-house floor, which had been nicely swept out by John William
Webster, and Kate had a chair on the grass, just outside of the door.
There she could hear and see with great comfort without "settin' on the
floor with a passel of boys," as Miss Eliza Davis, who furnished the
chair, elegantly expressed it.

When the meeting had been called to order (and John William, who evinced
a desire to hang around and find out what was going on, had been
discharged from further attendance on the Board, or, in other words, had
been ordered to "clear out"), and the minutes of the last meeting had
been read, and the Treasurer had read her written report, and the
Secretary had read his, an air of despondency seemed to settle upon the
assembly.

An empty corn-house seemed, as Tom Selden remarked, a very excellent
place for them to meet.

The financial condition of the company was about as follows:

It owed "One-eyed Lewston" and Aunt Judy one dollar each for one month's
rent of their homesteads as stations, the arrangement having been made
about the time the instruments were ordered.

It owed four dollars and twenty cents to the wood-cutters who worked on
the construction of the line, and two dollars and a half for other
assistance at that time.

("Wish we had done it all ourselves," said Wilson Ogden.)

It owed three dollars, balance on furniture procured at Hetertown. (It
also owed one chair, borrowed.)

It owed, for spikes and some other hardware procured at the store, one
dollar and sixty cents.

In addition to this, it owed John William Webster, who had been employed
as a sort of general agent to run errands and clean up things,
seventy-five cents--balance of salary--and he wanted his money.

To meet these demands, as was before remarked, they had nothing.

Fortunately nothing was owing for Aunt Matilda's support, Harry and Kate
having from the first determined never to run in debt on her account.

But, unfortunately, poor Aunt Matilda's affairs were never in so bad a
condition. The great interest which Kate and Harry had taken in the
telegraph line had prevented them from paying much attention to their
ordinary methods of making money, and now that the company's
appropriation was spent, there seemed to be no immediate method of
getting any money for the old woman's present needs.

This matter was not strictly the business of the Board, but they
nevertheless considered it.




CHAPTER XXI.

A LAST RESORT.


The Board was fully agreed that something must be done to relieve Aunt
Matilda's present necessities, but what to do did not seem very clear.

Wilson Ogden proposed issuing some kind of scrip or bonds, redeemable in
six or seven months, when the company should be on a paying basis.

"I believe," said he, "that Mr. Darby would take these bonds at the
store for groceries and things, and we might pay him interest, besides
redeeming the bonds when they came due."

This was rather a startling proposition. No one had suspected Wilson of
having such a financial mind.

"I don't know," said Harry, "how that would work. Mr. Darby might not be
willing to take the bonds; and besides that, it seems to me that the
company ought not to make any more promises to pay when it owes so much
already."

"But you see that would be different," said Wilson. "What we owe now we
ought to pay right away. The bonds would not have to be paid for ever so
long."

"That may be pretty sharp reasoning," remarked Tom Selden, "but I can't
see into it."

"It would be all the same as running in debt for Aunt Matilda, wouldn't
it?" asked Kate.

"Yes," said Wilson, "a kind of running in debt, but not exactly the
common way. You see--"

"But if it's any kind at all, I'm against it," said Kate, quickly.
"We're not going to support Aunt Matilda that way."

This settled the matter. To be sure, Kate had no vote in the Board; but
this was a subject in which she had what might be considered to be a
controlling interest, and the bond project was dropped.

Various schemes were now proposed, but there were objections to all of
them. Everyone was agreed that it was very unfortunate that this
emergency should have arisen just at this time, because as soon as the
company got into good working order, and the creek had been up a few
times it was probable that Aunt Matilda would really have more money
than she would absolutely need.

"You ought to look out, Harry and Kate," said Harvey Davis, "that all
the darkies she knows don't come and settle down on her and live off
her. She's a great old woman for having people around her, even now."

"Well," said Kate, "she has a right to have company if she wants to, and
can afford it."

"Yes," said Tom Selden; "but having company's very different from having
a lot of good-for-nothing darkies eating her out of house and home."

"She won't have anything of that sort," said Harry. "I'll see that her
money's spent right."

"But if it's her money," said Harvey, "she can spend it as she chooses."

A discussion here followed as to the kind of influence that ought to be
brought to bear upon Aunt Matilda to induce her to make a judicious use
of her income; but Harry soon interrupted the arguments, with the remark
that they had better not bother themselves about what Aunt Matilda
should do with her money when she got it, until they had found out some
way of preventing her from starving to death while she was waiting for
it.

This was evidently good common sense, but it put a damper on the spirits
of the Board.

There was nothing new to be said on the main question, and it was now
growing toward supper-time; so the meeting adjourned.

On their way home, Harry said to Kate, "Has Aunt Matilda anything to eat
at all?"

"Oh yes; she has enough for her supper to-night, and for breakfast, too,
if nobody comes to see her. But that's all."

"All right, then," said Harry.

"I don't think it is all right," replied Kate. "What's two meals, I'd
like to know?"

"Two meals are very good things, provided you don't take them both at
once," said Harry. And he began to whistle.

The next day, Harry went off and staid until dinner-time.

Kate could not imagine where he had gone. He was not with the Board, she
knew, for Harvey Davis had been inquiring for him.

Just before dinner he made his appearance.

Kate was in the house, but he hurried her out under the catalpa-tree.

"Look here!" said he, putting his hand in his pocket and pulling out
several "greenbacks." "I reckon that'll keep Aunt Matilda until the
company begins to make money."

Kate opened her eyes their very widest.

"Why, where on earth did you get all that money, Harry? Is it yours?"

"Of course it's mine," said Harry. "I sold my gun."

"Oh, Harry!" and the tears actually came into Kate's eyes.

"Well, I wouldn't cry about it," said Harry. "There's nothing to shoot
now; and when we get rich I can buy it back again, or get another."

"Got rich!" said Kate. "I don't see how we're going to do that;
especially when it's such dreadfully dry weather."




CHAPTER XXII.

A QUANDARY.


About a week after the meeting of the Board in the Davis corn-house, old
Miles, the mail-rider, came galloping up to Mr. Loudon's front gate. The
family were at breakfast, but Harry and Kate jumped up and ran to the
door, when they saw Miles coming, with his saddle-bags flapping behind
him. No one had ever before seen Miles ride so fast. A slow trot, or
rather a steady waddle, was the pace that he generally preferred.

"Hello, Mah'sr Harry," shouted old Miles, "de creek's up! Can't git
across dar, no how?"

This glorious news for the Crooked Creek Telegraph Company was, indeed,
true! There had been wet weather for several days, and although the
rain-fall had not been great in the level country about Akeville, it had
been very heavy up among the hills; and the consequence was, that the
swollen hill-streams, or "branches" as they are called in that part of
the country, had rushed down and made Crooked Creek rise in a hurry. It
seemed to be always ready to rise in this way, whenever it had a chance.

Now the company could go to work! Now it could show the world, or as
much of the world as chose to take notice, the advantages of having a
telegraph line across a creek in time of freshets.

Harry was all alive with excitement. He sent for Harvey Davis, and had
old Selim saddled as quickly as possible.

"H'yar's de letters and telegrums, Mah'sr Harry," said Miles, unlocking
his saddle-bags and taking out a bundle of letters and some telegrams,
written on the regular telegraphic blanks and tied up in a little
package.

As the mail was a private one, and old Miles was known to be perfectly
honest, he carried the key and attended personally to the locking and
unlocking of his saddle-bags.

"But I don't want the letters, Miles," said Harry. "I've nothing to do
with them. Give me the telegrams, and I'll send them across."

"Don't want de letters?" cried Miles, his eyes and mouth wide open in
astonishment. "Why, I can't carry de letters ober no mor'n I kin de
telegrams."

"Well, neither can I," said Harry.

"Den what's de use ob dat wire?" exclaimed Miles. "I thought you uns ud
send de letters an' all ober dat wire? Dere's lots more letters dan
telegrums."

"I know that," said Harry, hurriedly; "but we can't send letters. Give
the telegraphic messages, and you go back to the mines with the letters,
and if there's anything in them that they want to telegraph, let them
write out the messages, and you bring them over to Lewston's cabin."

Harry took the telegrams, and old Miles rode off, very much disturbed in
his mind. His confidence in the utility of the telegraph company was
wofully shaken.

By this time Harvey had arrived on a mule, and the two operators dashed
away as fast as their animals would carry them.

As they galloped along Harry shouted to Harvey, who kept ahead most of
the time, for his mule was faster than Selim:

"Hello, Harvey! If Miles couldn't get across, how can either of us go
over?"

"Oh, I reckon the creek isn't much up yet," answered Harvey. "Miles is
easily frightened."

So, on they rode, hoping for the best; but when they reached the creek
they saw, to their dismay, that the water was much higher already than
it usually rose in the summer-time. The low grounds on each side were
overflowed, and nothing could be seen of the bridge but the tops of two
upright timbers near its middle.

It was certainly very unfortunate that both the operators were on the
same side of the stream!

"This is a pretty piece of business," cried Harry. "I didn't expect the
creek to get up so quickly as this. I was down here yesterday, and it
hadn't risen at all. I tell you, Harvey, you ought to live on the other
side."

"Or else you ought," said Harvey.

"No," said Harry; "this is my station."

Harvey had no answer ready for this, but as they were hurriedly
fastening Selim and the mule to trees near Lewston's cabin, he said:

"Perhaps Mr. Lyons may come down and work the other end of the line."

"He can't get off," said Harry. "He has his own office to attend to.
And, besides, that wouldn't do. We must work our own line, especially at
the very beginning. It would look nice--now, wouldn't it?--to wait
until Mr. Lyons could come over from Hetertown before we could commence
operations!"

"Well, what can we do?" asked Harvey.

"Why, one of us must get across, somehow."

"I don't see how it's going to be done," said Harvey, as they ran down
to the edge of the water. "I reckon we'll have to holler our messages
across, as Tony said; only there isn't anybody to holler to."

"I don't know how it's to be done either," said Harry; "but one of us
must get over, some way or other."

"Couldn't we wade to the bridge," asked Harvey, "and then walk over on
it? I don't believe it's more than up to our waists on the bridge."

"You don't know how deep it is," said Harry; "and when you get to the
bridge, ten to one more than half the planks have been floated off, and
you'd go slump to the bottom of the creek before you knew it. There's no
way but to get a boat."

"I don't know where you're going to find one," said Harvey. "There's a
boat up at the mill-pond, but you couldn't get it out and down here in
much less than a day."

"John Walker has his boat afloat again," said Harry, "but that's over on
the other side. What a nuisance it is that there isn't anybody over
there! If we didn't want 'em, there'd be about sixty or seventy darkies
hanging about now."

"Oh, no!" said Harvey, "not so many as that; not over forty-seven."

"I'm going over to Lewston's. Perhaps he knows of a boat," said Harry;
and away he ran.

But Lewston was not in his cabin, and so Harry hurried along a road in
the woods that led by another negro cabin about a half-mile away,
thinking that the old man had gone off in that direction. Every minute
or two he shouted at the top of his voice, "Oh, Lewston!"

Very soon he heard some one shouting in reply, and he recognized
Lewston's voice. It seemed to come from the creek.

Thereupon, Harry made his way through the trees and soon caught sight of
the old colored man. He was in a boat, poling his way along in the
shallow water as close to dry land as the woods allowed him, and
sometimes, where the trees were wide apart, sending the boat right
between some of their tall trunks.

"Hello, Lewston," cried Harry, running as near as he could go without
getting his shoes wet, for the water ran up quite a distance among the
trees in some places. "What are you about? Where did you get that boat?
I want a boat."

"Dat's jist what I thought, Mah'sr Harry," said Lewston, still poling
away as hard as he could. "I know de compuny'd want to git ober de
creek, an' I jist went up to Hiram Anderson's and borrowed his ole boat.
Ise been a-bailing her out all de mornin'."

"You're a trump, Lewston," said Harry. "Pole her down opposite your
house, and then one of us will go over. Why don't you go out farther?
You can't get along half as fast in here by the trees and hummocks as
you could in deeper water."

"You don't ketch me out dar in dat runnin' water," said Lewston. "I'd be
in the middle afore I knowed it, and dis pole's pooty short."

"Well, come along as fast as you can," cried Harry, "and I'll run down
to your house and get your axe to cut a longer pole."

By the time Harry had found a tall young sapling, and had cut it down
and trimmed it off, Lewston arrived with the boat.




CHAPTER XXIII.

CROSSING THE CREEK.


"Now, then," said Harry, "here's the boat and a good pole, and you've
nothing to do, Harvey, but just to get in and push yourself over to your
station as fast as you can."

But the situation did not seem to strike Harvey very favorably. He
looked rather dissatisfied with the arrangement made for him.

"I can't swim," he said. "At least, not much, you know."

"Well, who wants you to swim?" said Harry, laughing. "That's a pretty
joke. Are you thinking of swimming across, and towing the boat after
you? You can push her over easy enough; that pole will reach the bottom
anywhere."

"Dat's so," said old Lewston. "It'll touch de bottom ob de water, but I
don't know 'bout de bottom ob de mud. Ye musn't push her down too deep.
Dar's 'bout as much mud as water out dar in de creek."

The more they talked about the matter, the greater became Harvey's
disinclination to go over. He was not a coward, but he was not used to
the water or the management of a boat, and the trip seemed much more
difficult to him than it would have appeared to a boy accustomed to
boating.

"I tell you what we'll do," cried Harry, at last. "You take my station,
Harvey, and I'll go over and work your end of the line."

There was no opposition to this plan, and so Harry hurried off with
Harvey to Lewston's cabin and helped him to make the connections and get
the line in working order at that end, and then he ran down to the boat,
jumped in, and Lewston pushed him off.

Harry poled the boat along quite easily through the shallow water, and
when he got farther out he found that he proceeded with still greater
ease, only he did not go straight across, but went a little too much
down stream.

But he pushed out strongly toward the opposite shore, and soon reached
the middle of the creek. Then he began to go down stream very fast
indeed. Push and pole as he would, he seemed to have no control whatever
over the boat. He had had no idea that the current would be so strong.

On he went, right down toward the bridge, and as the boat swept over it,
one end struck an upright beam that projected above the water, and the
clumsy craft was jerked around with such violence that Harry nearly
tumbled into the creek.

He heard Lewston and Harvey shouting to him, but he paid no attention to
them. He was working with all his strength to get the boat out of the
current and into shallower water. But as he found that he was not able
to do that, he made desperate efforts to stop the boat by thrusting his
pole into the bottom. It was not easy to get the pole into the mud, the
current was so strong; but he succeeded at last, by pushing it out in
front of him, in forcing it into the bottom; and then, in a moment, it
was jerked out of his hand, as the boat swept on, and, a second time, he
came near tumbling overboard.

Now he was helpless. No, there was the short pole that Lewston had left
in the boat.

He picked it up, but he could do nothing with it. If it had been an oar,
now, it might have been of some use. He tried to pull up the seat, but
it was nailed fast.

On he rapidly floated, down the middle of the stream; the boat sometimes
sidewise, sometimes with one end foremost, and sometimes the other. Very
soon he lost sight of Lewston and Harvey, and the last he saw of them
they were hurrying by the edge of the water, in the woods. Now he sat
down, and looked about him. The creek appeared to be getting wider and
wider, and he thought that if he went on at that rate he must soon come
to the river. The country seemed unfamiliar to him. He had never seen
it, from the water, when it was overflowed in this way.

He passed a wide stretch of cultivated fields, mostly planted in
tobacco, but he could not recollect what farmer had tobacco down by the
creek this year. There were some men at work on a piece of rising
ground, but they were a long way off. Still, Harry shouted to them, but
they did not appear to hear him.

Then he passed on among the trees again, bumping against stumps, turning
and twisting, but always keeping out in the middle of the current. He
began to be very uneasy, especially as he now saw, what he had not
noticed before, that the boat was leaking badly.

He made up his mind that he must do something soon, even if he had to
take off his clothes and jump in and try to swim to shore. But this, he
was well aware, would be hard work in such a current.

Looking hurriedly around, he saw, a short distance before him, a tree
that appeared to stand almost in the middle of the creek, with its lower
branches not very high above the water. The main current swirled around
this tree, and the boat was floating directly toward it.

Harry's mind was made up in an instant. He stood up on the seat, and as
the boat passed under the tree he seized the lowest branch.

In a moment the boat was jerked from under his feet, and he hung
suspended over the rushing water.

He gripped the branch with all his strength, and giving his legs a
swing, got his feet over it. Then, after two or three attempts, he
managed to draw himself up and get first one leg and then his whole body
over the branch. Then he sat up and shuffled along to the trunk, against
which he leaned with one arm around it, all in a perspiration, and
trembling with the exertion and excitement.

When he had rested awhile, he stood up on the limb and looked toward the
land. There, to his joy, he saw, at a little distance, a small log-house,
and there was some one living in it, for he saw smoke coming from the
log and mud chimney that was built up against one end of the cabin.

Harry gave a great shout, and then another, and another, and presently a
negro woman came out of the cabin and looked out over the creek. Then
three colored children came tumbling out, and they looked out over the
creek.

Then Harry shouted again, and the woman saw him.

"Hello, dar!" she cried. "Who's dat?"

"It's me! Harry Loudon."

"Harry Loudon?" shouted the woman, running down to the edge of the
water. "Mah'sr John Loudon's son Harry? What you doin' dar? Is you
fishin'?"

"Fishing!" cried Harry. "No! I want to get ashore. Have you a boat?"

"A boat! Lors a massy! I got no boat, Mah'sr Harry. How did ye git dar?"

"Oh, I got adrift, and my boat's gone! Isn't there any man about?"

"No man about here," said the woman. "My ole man's gone off to de
railroad. But he'll be back dis evenin'."

"I can't wait here till he comes," cried Harry. "Haven't you a rope and
some boards to make a raft?"

"Lor', no! Mah'sr Harry. I got no boards."

"Tell ye what ye do, dar," shouted the biggest boy, a woolly-heady
urchin, with nothing on but a big pair of trousers that came up under
his arms and were fastened over his shoulders by two bits of string,
"jist you come on dis side and jump down, an' slosh ashore."

"It's too deep," cried Harry.

"No, 'tain't," said the boy. "I sloshed out to dat tree dis mornin'."

"You did, you Pomp!" cried his mother. "Oh! I'll lick ye fur dat, when I
git a-hold of ye!"

"Did you, really?" cried Harry.

"Yes, I did," shouted the undaunted Pomp. "I sloshed out dar an' back
agin."

"But the water's higher now," said Harry.

"No, 'tain't," said the woman. "Tain't riz much dis mornin'. Done all de
risin' las' night. Dat tree's jist on de edge of de creek bank. If Pomp
could git along dar, you kin, Mah'sr Harry! Did ye go out dar, sure
'nuff, you Pomp? Mind, if ye didn't, I'll lick ye!"

"Yes, I did," said Pomp; "clar out dar an' back agin."

"Then I'll try it," cried Harry; and clambering around the trunk of the
tree, he jumped off as far as he could toward shore.




CHAPTER XXIV.

THE FIRST BUSINESS TELEGRAMS.


When Harry jumped from the tree, he came down on his feet, in water not
quite up to his waist, and then he pushed in toward land as fast as he
could go. In a few minutes, he stood in the midst of the colored family,
his trousers and coat-tails dripping, and his shoes feeling like a pair
of wet sponges.

"Ye ought to have rolled up yer pants and tooked off yer shoes and
stockin's afore ye jumped, Mah'sr Harry," said the woman.

"I wish I had taken off my shoes," said Harry.

The woman at whose cabin Harry found himself was Charity Allen, and a
good, sensible woman she was. She made Harry hurry into the house, and
she got him her husband's Sunday trousers, which she had just washed and
ironed, and insisted on his putting them on, while she dried his own.
She hung his stockings and his coat before the fire, and made one of the
boys rub his shoes with a cloth so as to dry them as much as possible
before putting them near the fire.

Harry was very impatient to be off, but Charity was so certain that he
would catch his death of cold if he started before his clothes were dry
that he allowed himself to be persuaded to wait.

And then she fried some salt pork, on which, with a great piece of
corn-bread, he made a hearty meal, for he was very hungry.

"Have you had your dinner, Charity?" he asked.

"Oh, yes, Mah'sr Harry; long time ago," she said.

"Then it must be pretty late," said Harry, anxiously.

"Oh, no!" said she; "'tain't late. I reckon it can't be much mor' 'n
four o'clock."

"Four o'clock!" shouted Harry, jumping up in such a hurry that he nearly
tripped himself in Uncle Oscar's trousers, which were much too long for
him. "Why, that's dreadfully late. Where can the day have gone? I must
be off, instantly!"

So much had happened since morning, that it was no wonder that Harry had
not noticed how the hours had flown.

The ride to the creek, the discussions there, the delay in getting the
boat, the passage down the stream, which was much longer than Harry had
imagined, and the time he had spent in the tree and in the cabin, had,
indeed, occupied the greater part of the day.

And even now he was not able to start. Though he urged her as much as he
could, he could not make Charity understand that it was absolutely
necessary that he must have his clothes, wet or dry; and he did not get
them until they were fit to put on. And then his shoes were not dry,
but, as he intended to run all the way to Aunt Judy's cabin, that did
not matter so much.

"How far is it to Aunt Judy's?" he asked, when at last he was ready to
start.

"Well, I reckons it's 'bout six or seben miles, Mah'sr Harry," said
Charity.

"Six or seven miles!" exclaimed Harry. "When shall I get there!"

"Now don't hurry and git yese'f all in a heat," said Charity. "Jist keep
along dis path fru de woods till ye strike de road, and that'll take ye
straight to de bridge. Wish I had a mule to len' ye."

"Good-by, Charity," cried Harry. "I'm ever so much obliged." And
hurriedly searching his vest pockets, he found a ten-cent note and a few
pennies, which he gave to the children, who grinned in silent delight,
and then he started off on a run.

But he did not run all the way.

Before long he began to tire a little, and then he settled down into a
fast walk. He felt that he must hurry along as fast as he was able. The
fortunes of the Crooked Creek Telegraph Company depended upon him. If
the company failed in this, its first opportunity, there was no hope for
it.

So on he walked, and before very long he struck the main road. Here he
thought he should be able to get along faster, but there was no
particular reason for it. In fact, the open road was rather rougher than
that through the woods. But it was cooler here than under the heavy,
overhanging trees.

And now Harry first noticed that the sun was not shining. At least, it
was behind the western hills. It must be growing very late, he thought.

On he went, for a mile or two, and then it began to grow dusky. Night
was surely coming on.

At a turn in the wood, he met a negro boy with a tin bucket on his head.
Harry knew him. It was Tom Haskins.

"Hello, Tom!" said Harry, stopping for a moment; "I want you."

"What you want, Mah'sr Harry?" asked Tom.

"I want you to come to Aunt Judy's cabin and carry some messages over to
Hetertown for me."

"When you want me?" said Tom; "to-morrer mornin'?"

"No; I want you to-night. This minute. I'll pay you."

"To-night?" cried the astonished Tom. "Go ober dar in de dark! Can't do
dat, Mah'sr Harry. Ise 'fraid to go fru de woods in de dark."

"Nonsense," cried Harry. "Nothing's going to hurt you. Come on over."

"Can't do it, Mah'sr Harry, no how," said Tom. "Ise got ter tote dis
hyar buttermilk home; dey's a-waitin' fur it now. But p'r'aps Jim'll go
fur you. He kin borrer a mule and go fur you, Mah'sr Harry, I 'spects."

"Well, tell Jim to get a mule and come to Aunt Judy's just as quick as
he can. I'll pay him right well."

"Dat's so, Mah'sr Harry; Jim'll go 'long fur ye. I'll tell him."

"Now be quick about it," cried Harry. "I'm in a great hurry." And off he
started again.

But as he hurried along, his legs began to feel stiff and his feet were
sore. He had walked very fast, so far, but now he was obliged to slacken
his pace.

And it grew darker and darker. Harry thought he had never seen night
come on so fast. It was certainly a long distance from Charity's cabin
to Aunt Judy's.

At last he reached the well-known woods near the bridge, and off in a
little opening he saw Aunt Judy's cabin. It was so dark now that he
would not have known it was a cabin, had he not been so familiar with
it.

Curiously enough, there was no light to be seen in the house. Harry
hurried to the door and found it shut. He tried to open it, and it was
locked. Had Aunt Judy gone away? She never went away; it was foolish to
suppose such a thing.

He knocked upon the door, and receiving no answer, he knocked louder,
and then he kicked. In a minute or two, during which he kept up a
continual banging and calling on the old woman, he heard a slight
movement inside. Then he knocked and shouted, "Aunt Judy!"

"Who dar!" said a voice within.

"It's me! Harry Loudon!" cried Harry. "Let me in!"

"What ye want dar?" said Aunt Judy. "Go 'way from dar."

"I want to come in. Open the door."

"Can't come in hyar. Ise gone to bed."

"But I must come in," cried Harry, in desperation; "I've got to work the
line. They're waiting for me. Open the door, do you hear Aunt Judy?"

"Go 'way wid yer line," said Aunt Judy, crossly. "Ise abed. Come in der
mornin'. Time enough in de day-time to work lines."

Harry now began to get angry. He found a stone and he banged the door.
He threatened Aunt Judy with the law. He told her she had no right to go
to bed and keep the company out of their station, when the creek was up;
but, from her testy answers, his threats seemed to have made but little
impression upon her. She didn't care if they stopped her pay, or fined
her, or sent her to prison. She never heard of "sich bisness, a-wakin'
people out of their beds in the middle o' the night fur dem foolin'
merchines."

But Harry's racket had a good effect, after all. It woke Aunt Judy, and
after a time she got out of bed, uncovered the fire, blew up a little
blaze, lighted a candle, and putting on some clothes, came and opened
the door, grumbling all the time.

"Now den," said she, holding the candle over her head, and looking like
a black Witch of Ender just out of the ground, "What you want?"

"I want to come in," said Harry.

"Well, den, come in," said she.

Harry was not slow to enter, and having made Aunt Judy bring him two
candles, which he told her the company would pay for, he set to work to
get his end of the line in working order.

When all was ready, he sat down to the instrument and "called" Harvey.

He felt very anxious as he did this. How could he be sure that Harvey
was there? What a long time for that poor fellow to wait, without having
any assurance that Harry would get across the creek at all, much less
reach his post, and go to work.