As the train snailed along toward Delta, there was increasing evidence of flood damage. A row of shacks near the railroad tracks was half submerged. Along the creek beds, giant trees bowed their branches to the swirling water. Many landmarks were completely blotted out.
“We’re coming into Delta now,” Penny presently observed. “Perhaps if we watch sharp we’ll see Joe Quigley and can say goodbye.”
The train stopped with a jerk while still some distance from the station. Then it pulled to a siding and there it waited. After ten minutes Penny sauntered through the train, thinking that if she could find an open door, she might get out and walk to the depot. Stopping a porter who was passing through the car, she asked him the cause of the delay.
“We’se waitin’ fo’ ordehs,” the colored man answered. “Anyhow, dat’s what de cap’n says.”
“The captain?”
“The conducteh o’ dis heah train.”
“Oh! And what does he say about the high water?”
“He says de track between heah and Hobostein’s a foot undeh.”
“Then that means the river must be coming up fast. Any danger we’ll be stranded at Delta?”
“You betteh talk to de conductor,” the porter said, jerking his head toward a fat, bespectacled trainman who had just swung aboard the coach. “Dat’s Mr. Johnson.”
Penny stopped the conductor to ask him what the chances were of getting through the flooded area.
“Doesn’t look so good,” he rumbled. “The rails are under at Mile Posts 792 and 825.”
“Then we’re tied up here?”
“No, we’re going as far as we can,” the conductor answered. “The dispatcher’s sending a work train on ahead to feel out the track. But we’ll be lucky to make ten miles an hour.”
Penny chatted with the conductor for a few minutes, then ambled back to the coach where she had left Louise. The prospects were most discouraging. At best it would be late afternoon before they could hope to reach Riverview.
“I’m starving too,” Louise said. “I suppose there’s no diner on this train.”
As a stop gap the girls hailed a passing vendor and bought candy bars. Having thus satisfied their hunger, they tried to read magazines.
Presently the car started with a jerk. However, instead of proceeding toward the station it backed into the railroad yard.
“Now what?” Penny demanded impatiently. “Aren’t we ever going to start?”
The porter hastened through the car, his manner noticeably nervous and tense. He paid no heed to a woman passenger who sought to detain him.
“Something’s wrong!” Penny said with conviction.
“A wash-out, do you think?”
“Might be. Let’s see what we can learn.”
With a vague feeling of foreboding they could not have explained, the girls arose and followed the porter. Something was amiss. They were certain of it.
Losing sight of the colored man, they kept on until they reached the rear platform. Penny started to open the screen door. Just then the train whistle sounded a shrill, unending blast.
Startled, Louise gripped her chum’s hand, listening tensely.
In the car behind, they heard the conductor’s husky voice. He was shouting: “Run! Run, for your lives! Take to the hills!”
Penny was stunned for an instant. Then seizing Louise’s arm, she pulled her out on the train platform. At first glance nothing appeared wrong. The tracks were well above the river level. Between the road bed and a high hill on the left, flood water was running like a mill race, but the ditch was narrow and represented no immediate danger.
“Listen!” Penny cried.
From far away there came a deep, rumbling roar not unlike the sound of distant thunder.
Leaning far over the train platform railing, Penny gazed up the tracks. The sight which met her eyes left her momentarily paralyzed.
Down the valley charged a great wall of water, taking everything before it. Trees had been mowed down. Crushed houses were being carried along like children’s blocks. Far up the track a switch engine was lifted bodily from the rails and hurled backwards.
Penny waited to see no more.
“The dam’s given away!” she shouted. “Quick, Louise! Climb over the railing and run for your life!”
CHAPTER
19
TRAGEDY
Leaping over the platform railing, Penny held up her arms to assist Louise. Now awakened to danger, her chum scrambled wildly after her only to stop aghast as she beheld the gigantic wall of water rushing toward them.
“Jump the ditch and make for the hill!” Penny ordered tersely. “Be quick!”
Passengers were pouring from the other cars, their terrified cries drowned by the grinding roar of the onrushing torrent. The wall of water moved with incredible speed. It tore into the railroad yard, shattering a tool house and a coal dock. It roared on, sweeping a row of empty box cars into its maw.
Spurred by the sight, Penny and Louise tried to leap the ditch. They fell far short and both plunged into the boiling water up to their arm pits.
Penny’s feet anchored solidly. With a gigantic shove, she helped Louise to safety. By swimming with the current she then reached shore a few yards farther down the railroad right of way.
“Run!” she shouted to the bewildered, bedraggled Louise. “Up the hill!”
Scrambling over the muddy edge of the ditch, she raced after her chum for higher ground. Just then the wall of water swept into the siding. As the train was struck it seemed to shudder from the terrific impact, then slowly settled on its side.
“Horrible!” Louise shuddered. “Some of the passengers may have been trapped in there!”
“Most of them escaped,” Penny gasped. “There goes the water tower!”
A building borne by the flood, rammed into the ironwork of the big dripping tower. It crumpled, falling with a great, shuddering splash.
With the back-wash of the flood sloshing against their knees, the girls raced for high ground. Reaching a point midway up the hill where other passengers had paused, they turned to glance below. Yellow, angry water, rising easily ten feet, flowed over the railroad right of way.
With unbelievable speed the flood rolled on. In one angry gulp it reached a long freight train farther down the track. The caboose and a string of coal cars were lifted and hurled. Strangely, the coal tender and engine which had been detached, remained on the rails.
“Oh, look!” Louise gasped in horror. “The engineer’s trapped in the cab!”
The trainman, plainly visible, valiantly kept the engine whistle blowing. Higher and higher rose the water. Penny and Louise were certain the courageous man must meet his doom. But the crest of the flood already had swept on down the valley, and in a moment the waters about the engine remained at a standstill.
So quickly had disaster struck that the girls could not immediately comprehend the extent of the tragedy. From their own train nearly all of the passengers had escaped. But the town of Delta had not fared so well. Apparently the flood had roared through the low section, taking all before it. Farther up the valley, directly below Huntley Lake where the gorge was narrow, damage to life and property might be even greater.
“What chance could poor Mrs. Lear have had,” Louise said brokenly. “Or the Burmasters.”
“There’s a possibility they took to the hills in time.”
“I doubt it,” Louise said grimly. “The flood came so quickly.”
Already the yellow, muddy waters were carrying evidence of their work. Houses, many with men and women clinging desperately to rooftops, floated past. Other helpless victims clung to logs, orange crates and chicken coops. At terrific speed they sailed past the base of the hillside. Several shouted piteously for help.
“We must do something to save those people!” Penny cried desperately.
“What?” Louise asked.
By this time the hillside was dotted with people who had saved themselves. Several of the women were weeping hysterically. Another had fainted. For the most part, everyone stared almost stupidly at the endless stream of debris which was swept down the valley. No one knew how to aid the agonized victims who clung to whatever their fingers could clutch.
On one rooftop, Penny counted six persons. The sight drove her to action.
“If only we had a rope—” she cried, and broke off as her eyes roved up the hillside.
Two hundred yards away stood a farmhouse.
“I’ll see if I can get one there!” she cried, darting away.
The hill was steep, the ground soft. Penny’s wet clothing impeded her. She tripped over a stone and fell, but scrambling up, ran on. Finally, quite out of breath, she reached the farmhouse. A woman with two small children clinging to her dress, met the girl in the yard.
“Ain’t it awful?” she murmured brokenly. “My husband’s workin’ down at the Brandale Works. Did the flood strike there?”
“It must have spread through all of Delta,” Penny answered. “This disaster’s going to be frightful unless we can get help quickly. Do you have a telephone?”
“Yes, but it’s dead. The wire runs into Delta.”
Penny had been afraid of that. She doubted that a single telephone pole had been left standing in the town. Nor was it likely that the other valley cities had ’phone service.
“Do you have a rope?” she asked. “A long one?”
“In the barn. I’ll get it.”
The woman came back in a moment, a coil of rope over her arm.
“Send some of those poor folks up here,” she urged as Penny started away with the rope. “I’ll put on a wash boiler of coffee and take care of as many as I can.”
Half sliding, Penny descended the steep hillside. During her absence two persons had been rescued from the water by means of an improvised lasso made from torn strips of clothing. Others were drifting past, too far away to be reached.
A woman and a child floated past, clinging to a log. Penny stood ready, the rope coiled neatly at her feet. She took careful aim, knowing that if she missed she would have no second chance.
Penny hurled the rope and it ran free, falling just ahead of the helpless pair. The half-drowned mother reached with one hand and seized it before it sank beneath the surface.
“Hold on!” Penny shouted. “Don’t let go!”
Several men ran to help her. By working together, they were able to pull the woman and her child to safety.
Abandoning the rope to skilled hands, Penny rounded the hill to a point providing a clear view of the flooded railroad yard. The roundhouse, the coal chutes and the signal tower were gone. But her heart leaped to see that the station was still standing. Built on high ground it was surrounded with water which did not appear to be deep.
Penny turned to Louise who had followed her. Just then they both heard someone shout that the railroad bridge was being swept away. They saw the massive steel structure swing slowly from its stone foundation. One side held firm which immediately set up great swirling currents. Any persons carried that way would be faced with destruction in the whirling pools of water.
“It’s too late to warn the towns directly below Delta!” Penny gasped. “But there still may be time to get a message through to Hobostein. In any case, we must get help here!”
“But how?” Louise asked hopelessly. “Any wires that were left standing must have been torn away when the bridge went.”
Penny gazed again toward the Delta depot. Between it and the hillside ran a fast-moving stretch of water, yet separated from the main body of the racing flood.
“If only I could get over to the station, I might somehow send a message!”
“Don’t be crazy!” Louise remonstrated. “You haven’t a chance to cross that stretch of water!”
“I think I could. I’m a pretty fair swimmer.”
“But the current is so swift.”
“There’s a certain amount of risk,” Penny admitted soberly. “But we can’t stand here and wait. Someone must do something to bring help.”
“Don’t do it, Penny!” Louise pleaded. “Please!”
Penny hesitated, but only for an instant. She understood perfectly that if she misjudged the strength of the current it would sweep her down—perhaps carry her along into the main body of water. Once in the grip of that angry torrent, no one could hope to battle against it.
The risk, however, was one she felt she must take. Struggling free from Louise’s clinging hands, she kicked off her shoes and tucked up her skirt. Then she plunged into the swirling water.
CHAPTER
20
EMERGENCY CALL
The current was much swifter than Penny had anticipated. It tugged viciously at her feet, giving her no opportunity to inch her way along the ditch. A dozen steps and she was beyond her depth, fighting desperately to keep from being swept with the current.
Although a strong swimmer, Penny found herself no match for the wild torrent. Only by going with it could she keep her head above water. To attempt to swim against it was impossible. Despairingly, she saw that she would miss the railroad station by many yards.
“I’ll be swept into the main body of the flood!” she thought in panic. “I shouldn’t have attempted it!”
Too late she tried to turn back toward the hillside. The swift current held her relentlessly. Struggling against it, her head went under. She choked 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 strength uselessly. Allowing the flood to carry her along, she took only a few slow strokes, swimming just enough to keep from being pulled beneath the surface. As calmly as she could she appraised the situation.
The station now was very close. Scarcely fifty yards separated her from it, but she knew her physical powers. Her strength was no match for that racing, swirling, debris-studded current. She could not hope to span the distance, 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 with red and green signal targets. She recognized the object as a switch stand, 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 I have the strength?”
The swift current swept Penny on toward the upright rod. She took three, four powerful strokes and reached frantically for the standard. Her fingers closed around the metal. The swift flowing water whipped her violently, but she held fast. Drawing herself close to the rod, she shoved her feet downward. Still she could find no bottom.
Hopefully, Penny glanced toward the station, now less than twenty-five yards away. Although water completely surrounded the squat little building, it had not risen to the window level. Yet there was no sign of anyone near the place—no one to help her.
Still clinging to the rod, she groped again with her bare feet. This time she located a steel rail. By standing on it, she raised herself a few inches and found firm footing. Suddenly an idea came to her.
“If I shove off hard from this rail, maybe I can get enough momentum to carry me through the current! If I fail—”
Penny decided not to think about that. Releasing her hold on the rod, she pushed off with all her strength and began to swim. Digging her face into the water, she held her breath and put everything she had into each stroke. 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 might spell defeat when victory was near. She could feel the torrent swinging her 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 solid object. It was the brick platform of the station!
Raising her head, she saw the building loom up in front of her. The current 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 Quigley must 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 it would do any good. Telephone wires undoubtedly were down.
Penny made a complete circuit of the depot without seeing anyone. Sick with disappointment, she paused beside the glass-enclosed bay of the ticket office and peered inside. She could see no one. But as she pressed her face against the pane of glass she thought she heard the chatter of a telegraph instrument.
“That means there still must be a wire connection!” she thought hopefully.
Nearby, the flood had lodged a small board against the depot wall. Seizing it, Penny smashed the lower pane of glass with one well-aimed blow.
She scrambled through the opening, crawled over the operator’s table and dropped to the floor. The little ticket office was deserted though Joe Quigley’s hat still lay on the counter.
“If only I knew how to telegraph!” Penny despaired, hearing again the chatter 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 and answered with the station call, “D-A.”
“Where have you been for the past twenty minutes?” the train dispatcher sent angrily at top speed. “What’s happened to No. 17?”
Penny got only part of the message and guessed at the rest. Nervously, at very slow speed, she tapped out in Morse code that the train had been washed off the track.
The dispatcher’s next message came very slowly, disclosing that he knew from Penny’s style of sending that he was talking to an amateur telegrapher.
“Where’s Joe Quigley?” he asked in code.
“Don’t know,” Penny tapped again. “Station’s half under water. Can you send help?”
“Shoot me the facts straight,” came the terse order.
Penny described what had happened at Huntley Dam and told how the railroad bridge had washed out. In return the dispatcher assured her that a 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 was on the way! The dispatcher would notify the proper authorities and set in motion the wheels of various relief organizations. For the moment she had done all she could.
She listened tensely as the dispatcher’s crisp call flashed over the wire. He was notifying stations farther up the line to hold all trains running into the valley. Repeatedly Penny heard the call “W-F” which she took 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 town would have been squarely in the path of the flood. What had happened to old Mrs. Lear and the Burmasters? Penny tried not to think about it.
Unexpectedly, the outside office door opened. Joe Quigley, bedraggled and haggard, one arm hanging limp at his side, splashed toward the desk. Seeing Penny, he stopped short, yet seemed too dazed to question the girl’s presence in the inner office.
“It’s awful,” he mumbled. “I was on the station platform when I saw that wall of water coming. Tried to warn the men in the roundhouse. Before I could cross the tracks, it was too late. One terrific crash and the roundhouse disappeared—”
“You’re hurt,” Penny cried as the agent reeled against the wall. “Your arm is crushed. How did it happen?”
“Don’t know,” Joe admitted, sinking into a chair the girl offered. “I was knocked off my feet. Came to lying in a pile of boards that had snagged against a tree trunk.” He stared at Penny as if really seeing her for the first 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 in twenty minutes.”
“All the trains have been stopped by the dispatcher,” Penny reassured him, and explained how she had sent out the call for help.
Joe Quigley slumped back in the chair. “If you can telegraph, let the dispatcher know I’m on the job again. This hand of mine’s not so hot for sending.”
Penny obediently sent the stumbling message, but as she completed it the telegraph sounder became lifeless. Although she still could manipulate the key, the signals had faded completely.
“Now what?” she cried, bewildered.
“The wire’s dead!” Quigley exclaimed. Anxiously he glanced toward the storage batteries, fearing that water had damped them out. However, the boxes 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 by opening 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 have grounded when the bridge was swept away. Then if it tore loose again we’d be out of service.”
“In that case we’re up against it.”
“Maybe not,” Quigley replied. He splashed across the room to the switchboard. “If that should happen to be the trouble, we can ground it here.”
He inserted a plug in the groundplate of the switchboard. Immediately the sounder came to life, closing with a sharp click.
“I call that luck!” grinned Quigley. “Now let’s try that dispatcher. Want to get him on the wire for me?”
Penny nodded and sat down at the desk again. Insistently she sent out the call, “D-S, D-S, D-S.” All the while as she kept the key moving, her thoughts raced ahead. She was afraid that persons had lost their lives in the flood. Property damage was beyond estimate. But catastrophe spelled Big News and she was certain her father would want every detail of the story for the Riverview Star. If only she could send word to him!
“What’s the matter?” Quigley asked, his voice impatient. “Can’t you get an answer?”
Just then it came—a crisp “I—DS” which told the two listeners that the train dispatcher again was on the wire.
Quigley took over, explaining the break in service and giving the dispatcher such facts as he desired. Hovering at the agent’s elbow, Penny asked 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 needed for vital railroad messages. But we’ll see.”
He tapped out a message and the reply came. It was sent so fast that Penny could not understand the code. Quigley translated it as “Okay, but make it brief.”
With no time to compose a carefully worded message, Penny reported the bare facts of the disaster. She addressed the message to her father and signed 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 his work.
“You’re in bad shape,” she said anxiously. “Let me bandage that smashed hand.”
“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. As she 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 of cloth on the top shelf. She reached for it and it came fluttering down into her hands—a loose garment fashioned somewhat like a cape with tiny slits cut for eyes. In an instant she knew what it was. Slowly she turned to face Joe Quigley.
“So it was you!” she whispered accusingly. “The Headless Horseman of Sleepy Hollow!”
CHAPTER
21
A MYSTERY EXPLAINED
Joe Quigley did not deny the accusation. He slumped at the telegraph desk, staring straight before him.
“Why did you do it?” Penny asked. “How could you?”
“I don’t know—now,” Quigley answered heavily. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
Penny shook out the garment. The whole, when worn over one’s head, would give an appearance of a sheeted goblin with body cut off at the shoulders. She tore off a long strip of the material and began to wrap Quigley’s injured hand.
“You’ve known for a long time, haven’t you?” he asked diffidently.
“I suspected it, but I wasn’t sure,” Penny replied. “Your style of riding is rather spectacular. Last night when I saw Trinidad leap the barrier at Sleepy Hollow I thought I knew.”
“Nothing matters now,” Quigley said, self accusingly. “Sleepy Hollow’s gone.”
“Don’t you think Mrs. Lear and the Burmasters had any chance to reach the hills?”
“I doubt it. When the dam broke, the water raced down the valley with the speed of an express train. Probably they were caught like rats in a trap.”
“It seems too horrible.”
“I knew this would happen,” Quigley went on. “It was what I fought against. We tried through the Delta Citizens’ Committee to get Burmaster to help repair the dam before it was too late. You know what luck we had.”
“So failing in ordinary methods, you tried to bring him around with your Headless Horseman stunt?”
“It was a foolish idea,” Quigley acknowledged. “Mrs. Lear really put me up to it—not that I’m trying to throw any blame on her. She never liked Mrs. Burmaster, and for good reasons. The Headless Horseman affair started out as a prank, and then I thought I saw a chance to influence Burmaster that way.”
“At that he might have come around if it hadn’t been for his wife.”
“Yes, she was against the town from the first. She hated everyone. Why, she believed that our only thought was to get her away from the valley just to trick her.”
“I guess it doesn’t matter now,” Penny said. “The estate’s gone and everyone with it. Somehow I can’t realize it—things happened so fast.”
“This is a horrible disaster, and it will be worse if help doesn’t get here fast,” Quigley replied. “Fortunately, the water doesn’t seem to be coming higher.”
Penny had completed a rough bandaging job on the station agent’s hand. Thanking her, he got up to test the two office telephones. Both were out of service.
Presently a message came in over the telegraph wire. It was addressed to Penny and was from her father. Quigley copied it on a pad and handed it to her.
“Thank God you are safe,” the message read. “A special circuit will be cut through to the Delta station as soon as possible. Can you give us a complete, running story of the flood?”
“What’s a running story?” Quigley asked curiously.
“I think Dad wants me to gather every fact I can,” Penny explained. “He wants a continuous story—enough material to fill a wire for several hours.”
“You’ll do it?”
“I don’t know,” Penny said doubtfully. “I’ve never handled a story as big as this—I’ve had no experience on anything so important.”
“There’s no other person to do it.”
“I want to find Louise,” Penny went on, rereading the message. “I ought to try to learn what happened to poor Mrs. Lear and the Burmasters.”
“Listen,” Quigley argued quietly. “You can’t do anything for your friends now. Don’t you see it’s your duty to get news out to the country? Your father expects it of you.”
Penny remained silent.
“Don’t you realize there’s no one else to send the news?” Quigley demanded. “You’re probably the only reporter within miles of here.”
“But I’m not really a reporter. I’ve written stories for Dad’s paper, it’s true. But not big stories such as this.”
“Red Valley needs help. The only way to get it is by arousing the public. Do I wire your father ‘yes’ or ‘no’?”
“Make it ‘yes,’” Penny decided. “Tell Dad I’ll try to have something for him in an hour.”
“You’ll need longer than that,” Quigley advised. “Anyhow, it’s apt to be several hours before we get a special wire through.”
While the agent sent the message, Penny searched the office for pencil and paper.
“You won’t get far without shoes,” Quigley said over his shoulder. “What became of yours?”
“Left them over on the hillside.”
“Well, you can’t go back for them now,” Quigley replied, gazing ruefully through the window at the racing torrent which separated the station from the high hill. “Let’s see what we can find for you.”
He rummaged through the closet and came upon a pair of boots which looked nearly small enough for Penny.
“We had a boy who wore those when he worked here,” he explained. “See if they’ll do. And here’s my coat.”
“Oh, I can’t take it,” Penny protested. “You’ll need it yourself.”
“No, I’m sticking here at my post,” Quigley answered. “I’ll be warm enough.”
He insisted that Penny wear the coat. She left the station and waded toward higher ground. The coat over her drenched clothing offered only slight protection from the chill wind. With the sun dropping low, she knew that soon she would actually suffer from cold.
Penny wondered where to start in gathering vital facts for her father. The flood had followed the narrow V-shaped valley, cutting a swath of destruction above Delta, and there spreading out to the lowlands. She decided to tour the outlying section of Delta first, view the wreckage and question survivors.
“If only Salt were here!” she thought. “Dad would want pictures, but there’s no way for me to take them.”
Keeping to the hillside, Penny reached a high point of land overlooking what had been the town of Delta. Two or three streets remained as before. One of the few business places still standing was the big white stone building that housed the local telephone company. Elsewhere there was only water and scattered debris.
Penny headed up the valley, passing and meeting groups of bedraggled refugees who had taken to the hills at the first alarm. She questioned everyone. Nevertheless, definite information eluded her. How many lives had been lost? How great was the property damage? What fate had befallen Mrs. Lear and the Burmasters? No one seemed to know.
Half sick with despair, she kept on. She jotted down names and facts. Mr. Bibbs, an old man who ran a weekly newspaper at Delta, was able to help her more than anyone else. Not only did he give her a partial list of the known missing, but he recited many other facts that had escaped Penny.
“A million thanks—” she began gratefully, but he waved her into silence.
“Just get back to the railroad station and send your story,” he urged.
Penny lost all count of time as she retraced her way along the muddy hillside. Everywhere she saw suffering and destruction. Her mind was so numbed to the sight that she recorded impressions automatically.
It was long after nightfall before Penny reached the station. Every muscle protested as she dragged herself wearily to the doorstep. During her absence the flood had lowered by nearly a foot. However, the current remained swift, and she steadied herself for a moment against the building wall.
“Who’s there?” called Quigley sharply.
“Penny Parker.”
“Okay, come on in,” the agent invited. “Thought you might be a looter.”
Penny pushed open the door. The waiting room was filled with men, women and children who slumped in cold misery on the uncomfortable row of seats. Few were provided with any warm clothing.
Penny splashed through the dark, musty room to the inner office. Quigley had lighted a smoky oil lamp which revealed that he had made himself a bed on top of the telegraph desk.
“I’m turning in for the night,” he explained. “There’s nothing more we can do until morning.”
“How about my story to the Star?” Penny asked wearily. “Is the special wire set up yet?”
“Don’t make me laugh,” Quigley replied. “The Dispatcher’s wire went out for good over an hour ago. Too bad you killed yourself to get that story, because it will have to wait.”
“But it mustn’t wait,” Penny protested. “Dad’s counting on me. I gave my promise. How about the telephone company?”
“Their lines are all down.”
“Western Union?”
“It’s the same with them. Repair crews are on their way here but it will take time. The valley’s completely cut off from communication.”
“For how long?”
“Listen, Penny, you know as much about it as I do. The airfields are under water.”
“How about the roads?”
“Open only part of the way.”
Completely discouraged, Penny sagged into a chair by the ticket counter. She was wet through, plastered with mud, hungry, and tired enough to collapse. After all of her work and suffering, her efforts had been in vain. By morning experienced city reporters and photographers would swarm into the valley. Her scoop would be no scoop at all.
“Oh, brace up,” Quigley encouraged carelessly.
“But I’ve failed Dad. It would mean a lot to him to get an exclusive story of this disaster. I gave him my promise I’d send the facts—now I’ve failed.”
“It’s not your fault the wire couldn’t be set up,” Quigley tried to encourage her. “Here, I managed to get ahold of a blanket for you. Wrap up in it and grab some sleep. You’ll need your strength tomorrow.”
“I guess you’re right,” Penny acknowledged gloomily.
Taking off the muddy boots, she rolled herself into the warm blanket. Curling up into the chair she pillowed her head on the desk and slept the untroubled sleep of complete exhaustion.
CHAPTER
22
WANTED—A WIRE
Toward morning Penny awoke to find her limbs stiff and cramped. Murky, fetid water still flowed over the floor of the station. However, it had lowered during the night, leaving a rim of oozy mud to mark the office walls. The first ray of light streamed through the broken window.
Penny yawned and stretched her cramped feet. She felt wretched and dirty. Her clothing was stiff and caked with mud. She scraped off what she could and washed face and hands in a basin of water she found at the back end of the room.
When she returned, Joe Quigley was awake.
“My neck! My arm! My whole anatomy!” he complained, rubbing a hand over his stubbly beard. “I’m a cripple for life.”
“I feel the same way,” Penny grinned. “I’m hungry too. Anything to eat around here?”
“Not a crumb. The folks out in the waiting room broke into all the vending machines last night. There’s not so much as a piece of candy left.”
“And there’s no place in Delta where food can be bought.”
“Not that I know of. Only a few relief kitchens were set up last night. They can’t begin to take care of the mob.”
Penny peered out into the crowded waiting room. Mothers with babies in their arms had sat there all night. Some of the refugees were weeping; others accepted their lot with stoical calm. Seeing such misery, Penny forgot her own hunger and discomfort.
“Don’t you think help will come soon?” she asked Quigley.
“Hard to tell,” he replied. “It should.”
Penny went out into the waiting room but there was very little she could do to help the unfortunate sufferers. She gave one of the women her blanket.
“That was foolish of you,” Quigley told her a moment later. “You’ll likely need it yourself.”
“I’d rather go without,” Penny replied. “Anyway, I can’t bear to stay here any longer. I’m going to the telephone office.”
“Why there?”
“The building stands high and should be one of the first places to reopen,” Penny declared hopefully. “Maybe I can get a long distance call through to Dad.”