CHAPTER 20 _EMERGENCY CALL_
The current was much swifter than Penny had anticipated. It tuggedviciously at her feet, giving her no opportunity to inch her way alongthe ditch. A dozen steps and she was beyond her depth, fightingdesperately to keep from being swept with the current.
Although a strong swimmer, Penny found herself no match for the wildtorrent. Only by going with it could she keep her head above water. Toattempt to swim against it was impossible. Despairingly, she saw that shewould miss the railroad station by many yards.
"I'll be swept into the main body of the flood!" she thought in panic. "Ishouldn't have attempted it!"
Too late she tried to turn back toward the hillside. The swift currentheld her relentlessly. Struggling against it, her head went under. Shechoked as she breathed water, then fought her way to the surface again.The current carried her on.
After that first moment of panic, Penny did not waste her strengthuselessly. Allowing the flood to carry her along, she took only a fewslow strokes, swimming just enough to keep from being pulled beneath thesurface. As calmly as she could she appraised the situation.
The station now was very close. Scarcely fifty yards separated her fromit, but she knew her physical powers. Her strength was no match for thatracing, swirling, debris-studded current. She could not hope to span thedistance, short though it was.
Penny despaired. And then her heart leaped with new hope. Directly ahead,a foot and a half above the water's murky surface, rose a steel rod withred and green signal targets. She recognized the object as a switchstand, used by trainmen to open and close the passing track switch.
"If I could reach that steel rod I could hold on!" she thought. "But do Ihave the strength?"
The swift current swept Penny on toward the upright rod. She took three,four powerful strokes and reached frantically for the standard. Herfingers closed around the metal. The swift flowing water whipped herviolently, but she held fast. Drawing herself close to the rod, sheshoved her feet downward. Still she could find no bottom.
Hopefully, Penny glanced toward the station, now less than twenty-fiveyards away. Although water completely surrounded the squat littlebuilding, it had not risen to the window level. Yet there was no sign ofanyone near the place--no one to help her.
Still clinging to the rod, she groped again with her bare feet. This timeshe located a steel rail. By standing on it, she raised herself a fewinches and found firm footing. Suddenly an idea came to her.
"If I shove off hard from this rail, maybe I can get enough momentum tocarry me through the current! If I fail--"
Penny decided not to think about that. Releasing her hold on the rod, shepushed off with all her strength and began to swim. Digging her face intothe water, she held her breath and put everything she had into eachstroke. Pull, pull, pull--she had to keep on. Her breath was nearly gone,strength fast was deserting her. Yet to turn her head and gulp air mightspell defeat when victory was near. She could feel the torrent swingingher downstream. She made a final, desperate spurt.
"I can't make it!" she thought. "I can't!"
Yet she struggled on. Then suddenly her churning feet struck a solidobject. It was the brick platform of the station!
Raising her head, she saw the building loom up in front of her. Thecurrent no longer tugged at her body. She had reached quiet water.
Penny stood still a moment, regaining her breath.
Then she waded to the front door of the station. It could not be opened.Penny pounded and shouted. Her cries went unanswered.
"The place is deserted!" she thought with a sinking heart. "Joe Quigleymust have taken to the hills when the flood came."
Slowly Penny waded around the building, unwilling to acknowledge failure.Somehow she had to get word of the disaster through to the outside world.Yet even if she did get inside the station, she was far from certain itwould do any good. Telephone wires undoubtedly were down.
Penny made a complete circuit of the depot without seeing anyone. Sickwith disappointment, she paused beside the glass-enclosed bay of theticket office and peered inside. She could see no one. But as she pressedher face against the pane of glass she thought she heard the chatter of atelegraph instrument.
"That means there still must be a wire connection!" she thoughthopefully.
Nearby, the flood had lodged a small board against the depot wall.Seizing it, Penny smashed the lower pane of glass with one well-aimedblow.
She scrambled through the opening, crawled over the operator's table anddropped to the floor. The little ticket office was deserted though JoeQuigley's hat still lay on the counter.
"If only I knew how to telegraph!" Penny despaired, hearing again thechatter of the instrument. "Just knowing Morse code won't help me much."
The telegraph sounder was signaling the station call for Delta: "D-A,D-A, D-A." Over and over it was repeated.
Penny hesitated and then went to the instrument. She opened the key andanswered with the station call, "D-A."
"Where have you been for the past twenty minutes?" the train dispatchersent angrily at top speed. "What's happened to No. 17?"
Penny got only part of the message and guessed at the rest. Nervously, atvery slow speed, she tapped out in Morse code that the train had beenwashed off the track.
The dispatcher's next message came very slowly, disclosing that he knewfrom Penny's style of sending that he was talking to an amateurtelegrapher.
"Where's Joe Quigley?" he asked in code.
"Don't know," Penny tapped again. "Station's half under water. Can yousend help?"
"Shoot me the facts straight," came the terse order.
Penny described what had happened at Huntley Dam and told how therailroad bridge had washed out. In return the dispatcher assured her thata relief crew would be sent without delay.
"Stay on the job until relieved," was his final order.
Weak with excitement, Penny leaned back in her chair. Help actually wason the way! The dispatcher would notify the proper authorities and set inmotion the wheels of various relief organizations. For the moment she haddone all she could.
She listened tensely as the dispatcher's crisp call flashed over thewire. He was notifying stations farther up the line to hold all trainsrunning into the valley. Repeatedly Penny heard the call "W-F" which shetook to be Witch Falls. It went unanswered.
Half sick with dread, she waited, hoping for a response. It was likely,almost a certainty that the station had been swept away, for the townwould have been squarely in the path of the flood. What had happened toold Mrs. Lear and the Burmasters? Penny tried not to think about it.
Unexpectedly, the outside office door opened. Joe Quigley, bedraggled andhaggard, one arm hanging limp at his side, splashed toward the desk.Seeing Penny, he stopped short, yet seemed too dazed to question thegirl's presence in the inner office.
"It's awful," he mumbled. "I was on the station platform when I saw thatwall of water coming. Tried to warn the men in the roundhouse. Before Icould cross the tracks, it was too late. One terrific crash and theroundhouse disappeared--"
"You're hurt," Penny cried as the agent reeled against the wall. "Yourarm is crushed. How did it happen?"
"Don't know," Joe admitted, sinking into a chair the girl offered. "I wasknocked off my feet. Came to lying in a pile of boards that had snaggedagainst a tree trunk." He stared at Penny as if really seeing her for thefirst time. "Say," he demanded, "how did you get in here?"
"Smashed the window. It was the only way."
The agent got to his feet, staggering toward the telegraph desk.
"I've got to send a message," he said jerkily. "No. 30's due at Rodney intwenty minutes."
"All the trains have been stopped by the dispatcher," Penny reassuredhim, and explained how she had sent out the call for help.
Joe Quigley slumped back in the chair. "If you can telegraph, let thedispatcher know I'm on the job a
gain. This hand of mine's not so hot forsending."
Penny obediently sent the stumbling message, but as she completed it thetelegraph sounder became lifeless. Although she still could manipulatethe key, the signals had faded completely.
"Now what?" she cried, bewildered.
"The wire's dead!" Quigley exclaimed. Anxiously he glanced toward thestorage batteries, fearing that water had damped them out. However, theboxes were high above the floor and still dry.
"What can be wrong?" Penny asked the operator.
"Anything can happen in a mess like this."
Reaching across the table with his good hand, Quigley tested the wire byopening and closing the lifeless telegraph key.
"It's completely out," he declared with finality.
"Isn't there anything we can do?"
Quigley got to his feet. "There's just one chance. The wire may havegrounded when the bridge was swept away. Then if it tore loose again we'dbe out of service."
"In that case we're up against it."
"Maybe not," Quigley replied. He splashed across the room to theswitchboard. "If that should happen to be the trouble, we can ground ithere."
He inserted a plug in the groundplate of the switchboard. Immediately thesounder came to life, closing with a sharp click.
"I call that luck!" grinned Quigley. "Now let's try that dispatcher. Wantto get him on the wire for me?"
Penny nodded and sat down at the desk again. Insistently she sent out thecall, "D-S, D-S, D-S." All the while as she kept the key moving, herthoughts raced ahead. She was afraid that persons had lost their lives inthe flood. Property damage was beyond estimate. But catastrophe spelledBig News and she was certain her father would want every detail of thestory for the _Riverview Star_. If only she could send word to him!
"What's the matter?" Quigley asked, his voice impatient. "Can't you getan answer?"
Just then it came--a crisp "I--DS" which told the two listeners that thetrain dispatcher again was on the wire.
Quigley took over, explaining the break in service and giving thedispatcher such facts as he desired. Hovering at the agent's elbow, Pennyasked him if the dispatcher would take an important personal message.
"For the _Riverview Star_," she added quickly. "My father's newspaper."
"I doubt he'll do it," Quigley discouraged her. "This one wire is neededfor vital railroad messages. But we'll see."
He tapped out a message and the reply came. It was sent so fast thatPenny could not understand the code. Quigley translated it as "Okay, butmake it brief."
With no time to compose a carefully worded message, Penny reported thebare facts of the disaster. She addressed the message to her father andsigned her own name.
"There, that's off," Quigley said, sagging back in his chair.
Penny saw that the station agent was in no condition to carry on hiswork.
"You're in bad shape," she said anxiously. "Let me bandage that smashedhand."
"It's nothing. I'll be okay."
"I'll find something to tie it up with," Penny insisted.
In search of bandage material, she crossed the room to a wall closet. Asshe reached for the door handle, Quigley turned swiftly in his chair.
"No, not there!" he exclaimed.
Penny already had opened the door. Her gaze fastened upon a white roll ofcloth on the top shelf. She reached for it and it came fluttering downinto her hands--a loose garment fashioned somewhat like a cape with tinyslits cut for eyes. In an instant she knew what it was. Slowly she turnedto face Joe Quigley.
"So it was you!" she whispered accusingly. "The Headless Horseman ofSleepy Hollow!"
Hoofbeats on the Turnpike Page 20