now all strung, and all that was necessary was to start the motor and dynamo.
A curious throng gathered about the little shack as Tom announced that he was about to flash into space the first message calling for help. He took his place at the box, to which had been fastened the apparatus for clicking off the Morse letters.
"Well, here we go," he said, with a smile.
His fingers clasped the rude key he had fashioned from bits of brass and hard rubber. The motor was buzzing away, and the electric dynamo was purring like some big cat.
Just as Tom opened the circuit, to send the current into the instrument, there came an omnious rumbling of the earth.
"Another quake!" screamed Mrs. Anderson. But it was over in a second, and calmness succeeded the incipient panic.
Suddenly, overhead, there sounded a queer crackling noise, a vicious, snapping, as if from some invisible whips.
"Mercy! What's that?" cried Mrs. Nestor.
"The wireless," replied Tom, quietly. "I am going to send a message for help, off into space. I hope some one receives it—and answers," he added, in a low tone.
The crackling increased. While they gathered
