“He’s swearing again,” he said; “he says this stuff of yours is all nonsense.  He says stock in the Y.C.C. has gone up to one hundred and two, and that owners are unloading and making their fortunes, and that this sort of descriptive writing is not what the company want.”

“What’s he think I’m here for?” cried Gordon.  “Does he think I pulled down the German flag and risked my neck half a dozen times and had myself made King just to boom his Yokohama cable stock?  Confound him!  You might at least swear back.  Tell him just what the situation is in a few words.  Here, stop that rigmarole to the paper, and explain to your home office that we are awaiting developments, and that, in the meanwhile, they must put up with the best we can send them.  Wait; send this to Octavia.”

Gordon wrote rapidly, and read what he wrote as rapidly as it was written.

“Operator, Octavia.  You seem to have misunderstood my first message.  The facts in the case are these.  A German man-of-war raised a flag on this island.  It was pulled down and the American flag raised in its place and saluted by a brass cannon.  The German man-of-war fired once at the flag and knocked it down, and then steamed away and has not been seen since.  Two huts were upset, that is all the damage done; the battery consisted of the one brass cannon before mentioned.  No one, either native or foreign, has been massacred.  The English residents are two sailors.  The American residents are the young man who is sending you this cable and myself.  Our first message was quite true in substance, but perhaps misleading in detail.  I made it so because I fully expected much more to happen immediately.  Nothing has happened, or seems likely to happen, and that is the exact situation up to date.  Albert Gordon.”

“Now,” he asked, after a pause, “what does he say to that?”

“He doesn’t say anything,” said Stedman.

“I guess he has fainted.  Here it comes,” he added in the same breath.  He bent toward his instrument, and Gordon raised himself from his chair and stood beside him as he read it off.  The two young men hardly breathed in the intensity of their interest.

“Dear Stedman,” he slowly read aloud.  “You and your young friend are a couple of fools.  If you had allowed me to send you the messages awaiting transmission here to you, you would not have sent me such a confession of guilt as you have just done.  You had better leave Opeki at once or hide in the hills.  I am afraid I have placed you in a somewhat compromising position with the company, which is unfortunate, especially as, if I am not mistaken, they owe you some back pay.  You should have been wiser in your day, and bought Y.C.C. stock when it was down to five cents, as ‘yours truly’ did.  You are not, Stedman, as bright a boy as some.  And as for your friend, the war correspondent, he has queered himself for life.  You see, my dear Stedman, after I had sent off your first message, and demands for further details came pouring in, and I could not get you at the wire to supply them, I took the liberty of sending some on myself.”