Myles had been busily collecting news of the strike all that day and writing a report of it, in the hope that he might find some chance to get it through. He visited the telegraph office several times to inquire if the wires were not yet repaired, but each time his friend, the operator, who remained faithfully at his post, shook his head in the negative. The operator was anxious to befriend one to whom he had taken a liking, and who, as he knew, had suffered a great wrong, regarding which his duty obliged him to remain silent; but during the day he could discover no way of helping him. At last, late in the evening, when Myles had given up all hopes of getting a dispatch through and was about to retire, the operator called for him at the hotel.
He said he had just learned, as a secret, from a friend among the strikers, that the wires were cut between the town and the first station on the railroad to the east. The strikers were in possession of that office, and from it were sending dispatches to other points along the line. He had told this friend, who possessed great influence over his fellows, that there was a reporter in town who was most anxious to communicate with his paper, and asked permission for him to do so from this little station. At first it was refused. Then the striker asked the reporter’s name. On being told that it was Manning, and that he was from the _Phonograph_, he said that made all the difference in the world. They would willingly allow a _Phonograph_ reporter the use of the wire whenever he wanted it; for that paper had always given the strikers a fair showing in its columns. He only made the conditions that no other reporter should be allowed the use of the wire, and that nothing should be forwarded over it except the message to the _Phonograph_.
This the operator had promised, also agreeing to go with the reporter and send the message through himself.
Myles was of course most eager to avail himself of this privilege, and, heartily thanking the operator, was about to order a carriage in which they might drive to the little station. His friend, however, said that the wagon-roads of that mountainous region were so rough and roundabout that to drive there would take several hours, while if they only had a hand-car they might reach the place in less than an hour, as the railroad was down grade nearly all the way. But all the hand-cars were locked up in one of the shops, and nobody but the division superintendent or the person acting in his place could authorize one to be taken out.
