But to return to our story.  Cornell went to work, and the pipe, with its interior wire, was laid with much rapidity.  Not many days had elapsed before ten miles were underground, the pipe being neatly covered as laid.  It reached from Baltimore nearly to the Relay House.  Here it stopped, for something had gone wrong.  Morse tested his wire.  It would not work.  No trace of an electric current could be got through it.  The insulation was evidently imperfect.  What was to be done?  He would be charged with wasting the public money on an impracticable experiment.  Yet if he stopped he might expect a roar of newspaper disapprobation of his whole scheme.  He was in a serious dilemma.  How should he escape?

He sought Cornell, and told him of the failure of his experiments.  The work must be stopped.  He must try other kinds of pipe and new methods of insulation.  But if the public should suspect failure there would be vials of wrath poured on their devoted heads.

“The public shall not suspect failure.  Leave it to me,” said Cornell.

He turned to his men.  The machine was slowly moving forward, drawn by a team of eight mules, depositing pipe as it went.  A section had just been laid.  Night was at hand.

“Hurry up, boys,” cried Cornell, cheerily.  “We must lay another length before we quit.”

He grasped the handles of his plough-like machine; the drivers stirred up the mules to a lively pace; the contrivance went merrily forward.  But the cunning pilot knew what he was about.  He steered the buried point of the machine against a rock that just protruded from the earth.  In an instant there was a shock, a sound of rending wood and iron, a noise of shouting and trampling; and then the line of mules came to a halt.  But behind them were only the ruins of a machine.  That moment’s work had converted the pipe-laying contrivance into kindling-wood and scrap-iron.

The public condoled with the inventor.  It was so unlucky that his promising progress should be stopped by such an accident!  As for Morse and his cunning associate, they smiled quietly to themselves as they went on with their experiments.  Another kind of pipe was tried.  Still the current would not go through.  A year passed by.  Experiment after experiment had been made.  All had proved failures.  Twenty-three thousand dollars of the money had been spent.  Only seven thousand remained.  The inventor was on the verge of despair.

“I am afraid it will never work,” said Cornell.  “It looks bad for the pipe plan.”

“Then let us try the other,” said Morse.  “If the current won’t go underground, it may be coaxed to go above-ground.”

The plan suggested was to string the wire upon poles, insulating it from the wood by some non-conductor.  A suitable insulator was needed.  Cornell devised one; another inventor produced another.  Morse approved of the latter, started for New York with it to make arrangements for its manufacture, and on his way met Professor Henry, who knew more about electricity than any other man in the country.  Morse showed him the models of the two insulators, and indicated the one he had chosen.  Mr. Henry examined them closely.