Over the Wires.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XLVIII, Issue 11, 11 September 1912, Page 44

Over the Wires.

By

MISS L. EASTGATE,

Auckland.

This storj) was awarded first prize in the Original Section, ( amateurs only ) at the recent Auckland Competitions.

JtLL?’’ The operator's voice VI was a sharp as .she VA Jw « ,IH wered the call, for it was after closing time for the country bureau of N-arahora, ami she worked long hours without relief. Betty Homers .was inclined to make short shrift of the peremptory voice which summoned her. “Don’t you know it is after hours?”

Something in the answering voice startled her. Her eyes dilated, and she raised her head with the instinctive movement of one whose breath has been taken away. Her voice bad altered when site spoke again. “Who is speaking? dlavid Graham—David Graham!” She put the receiver down gently for a moment, and said the name over twice in a whisper. Then she picked it up again and went on in that altered voice: “Yes, I am here. What number do you want? You don’t want a number What did you *ay ? Yen. I ran hear in spite of the storm. A big flood coming down No there is no one here but myself Yes Yes, I know Mr. White’s house, up on the hill. I must get up there at once 1 am sure I shall manage all right. Thank you for thinking of me. 4,’an’t I warn some others You are going to; are you really —Oh, surely 7 it is too risky to ride down the valley in a storm with a flood behind you? Why, Rome of them have wires 1 will ring them — 'Surely I have time, ami then 1

shall be able to rearch White’s— —-—Do say y* s > anti g**e up the idea of riding Are you there? Are you there?’’ lie was not. He had left after his last hasty peremptory order, and the girl's faee was white as she realised it.

•For a few moments she forgot flood and everything else in the amazing fact that Davit! Graham had called up this country bureau, where she had been sent from the eity to relieve the local operator, who was ill. David, with whom she had quarrelled two years before, and. who had shaken the dust of her dwellingplace from off his angry feet, vowing never to see her again—and so far he had kept his word, and because she knew she deserved it sometimes she hated him, and sometimes, with all the impotent longing of a sore heart, she thought if only she knew where he was, and what he was doing, she would send for him. And instead, with one of Fate’s queer tricks, she had been sent to the very place where David Graham was living unknown to her. She laughed at the recollection of his orders to her ten minutes before —it was so exactly like David, though he did not know to whom he was speaking. The laugh passed in the realisation of what the night promised of risky work to David and probably all the men of the district. The flood would mean peril and suffering to the women and children, who had to leave their hemes for shelter on the high lands. Probably many of them

would not have sufliiient warning. David had gone down to the valley. She eonl.l warn those further off before he could possibly reach them, if he ever did. He had told her she had no time to lose in getting to a place of safety. Sire eonelirded that he meant that the roads would be impassable shortly, but if they ■were —she was one against perhaps a dozen families that she could warn over the wires that were in her charge. In another minute she was at work.

One after another she called up the settlers who had ’phones, and in brief, clear words told them of the. threatening flood, asking them to warn others if possible. Some of them were anticipating the danger, others wastes! precious minutes in horrified lamentations and demands for details to verify the news. Foor souls! It was a prospect to make women quail on such a night of bitter storm. Betty's face was full of the gravest pity and concern as she went on with her work, and it was only when she had done all she could that she remembered that she was in the same ease as everyone else. It was time she obeyed David’s orders, and made her way up the hill. The people with whom she lodged lived a mile away, and were not on the telephone, and she had no means of communicating with them, and wondered whether she would find them up at White’s, which was the nearest house on high ground. She donned her cloak and eap, and, shivering a little at the prospect, went to the entrance. As she reached it, she stopped short —had the rain beaten in? Oh, surely it must be. only the rain. Mustering all her courage she opened the door, and was met by the iey, driving wind and rain, and something that washed in and left her feet wet. She was too late. In sudden blind terror she used frantra strength, and closed the door against the storm. She was a city-bred girl—just an ordinary, little girl, who faced her daily work sunnily and ■bravely, but who had had no experience of country, hardships and risks. The horror of the darkness, loneliness, and rising water gripped her, and for a few minutes her nerve completely failed.

Shivering from head to foot, she ran into the off he. As she entered a call came over the wires, and, with a gasp of relief, she answered, and recognised) Graham’s voice. Some voices keep their quality through a telephone— Grpf ham’s did. Anyone knowing it cot&i ■recognise it. Betty had purposely used hers before in a way to mislead him. Now for the moment she had forgotten, and answered as though he knew_ to whom Ire was speaking. She said only) "I am here!” but the tone was assured as speaking to someone who would not let harm reach her. There was an instant’s pause, and then he spoke sharply. “Who is it speaking?” Dike a flash came the thought to Betty that she wanted to see his face when he discovered who she was, and she replied in that altered voice, “The operator at iNarahora Bureau.” Silence—while Graham recalled the tones of the voice which had startled him—and then: “Are you alone?” “Yes.” “Couldn’t you get up the hill?” "I didn’t try.” “Were yon afraid?” *‘•l bad something to do first.” "What was it?” " r "Warn the telephone subscribers.” '' Nhe heard his ejaculation, though it was to himself, and smiled. His voice had steadied her nerves. He went oit rapidly. “Whom did you ring?” Shei ran over the list of names, and he said quietly: “It means a lot to them—the road has given way down here—l can’t get on. I rang just to make sure that you got away all right. 1 should have come to the bureau in the first place, and used the wires, but it was a long ride from my own place, and then I should have missed all the people who have no ’phones.” “Yes, I- guessed that.” “Well, about you. Don’t attempt to go out by yourself now no knowing where you would end. I would eqme right away but I am just looking afte? a woman who is alone with three small children —her husband is away. Do you think you'll be all right for a while?” “Betty looked down at the floor awash with water ami shivered. But there was no help for it. At the other end was that mother and her three helpless children. It would have been a relief to tell David of her need of him as soon as he had put the others in safety, but it would have added to his anxieties, and she knew quite well that lie wasted no time over his work, so she replied, “Yes, I can wait quite well until yon have put the others into safety.” “Right, I'll be as quick as 1 can.” He' was gone, and Betty, though her face was white, turned to meet tho waiting with all the courage she could muster. She needed it, for it was no light thing for an inexperienced girl to face. The building seemed to rock with the fury of the storm, and in her ignorance she could form no idea how rapidly the water would rise. She perched her self on a table and tried not to look' down where the water on the floor made little gurgling sounds as of triumph, but' again and again her eyes were drawn to it as if fascinated, and it would seem tq her deeper than when she had last looked. There was a clock on the waif, and she would wait a long time before looking at it and then find that only five minutes had passed. So slowly they crept away, and with every gust of wind and rain the water surged in under the' door, gaining in volume with all the. swiftness that the minutes lacked. j > It was bitterly eold, too, and her hands and feet were soon numbed, ami her limbs eramped from her uncomfortable position on the small table. She listened to the tearing wind which whistled and battled with the wooden building, and wondered how anyone could starlet against such storm outside and whethei" David had managed to rescue the three: little children and their mother. A Jittjq' stray smile touched her cold lips aS slid thought of what ’he might have doiiq ! had he known who was in charge of thd bureau She was glad he hadn't, but' when she thought of his coming and peeing her perched where she was—lhei floors awash with water the ludicrous side suddenly struck her and she laughed then grimaced with the knotting pain of cramp. It was a small table, no rooni to ease cramped limbs, ami she had to bear the pain as best she could. The next hour was one she dit} jiofj care to remember afterwards. Sh<) was! faint with pain and cohl, and desperately afraid that she would fall and be unahlc to use her crumped limbs to save herself. She knew that David would hnvo sonic distance' to ride to the hutcatt

when he had completed his task, and there was no calculating the hindrances 110 might meet with. She kept her eyes on the door, and with blue, Set lips endured what seemed an endless vigil. > > . The time came when she seemed to have reached her limit—then outside, sound and movement that were not t hose Of the storm. The door burst open, torn almost from the hand of the man. Who, on entering, set his strength against Jho wind and closed it. There was con Hornet ion in the swift glance he threw bn the flooded floor, and then his eyes fell on the little twisted figure bn the table. Jlis face turned whin, then with An exclamation ho reached her side. "Retly—my God lls tt you!” And then for Betty, flood. And storm, ABd pain passed into oblivion.