eard that you are a great
operator, the greatest in the West. You must send Mr. Grayson's speech.
What a triumph it will be for you--to send his speech and then get upon
this stage and demolish it afterwards!"

The feeling in Harley's voice was real, and the boy was thrilled by it
and the situation. Every natural impulse in him responded. It was the
chivalrous thing for him to do, and an easy one. He could send a speech
as fast as the fastest man living could deliver it. He rose without a
word, his heart beating with thoughts of the coming battle, in which he
felt proudly that he should be a victor, and made his way to the
telegraphers' box.

Moore had lived in Pueblo, and nearly everybody in the audience knew
him. When they saw him take his seat at one of the instruments, their
quick Western minds divined what he was going to do, and the roar of
applause that they had just given to the candidate, who was now on his
feet, was succeeded by another; but the second was for Charlie Moore,
the telegraph-operator.

The fledgling had no time to think. He had scarcely settled himself in
his chair when the deep, full voice of Jimmy Grayson filled the great
hall, and he was launched upon a speech for which the whole Union was
waiting. The short-hand man was already deep in his work, and the copy
began to come. But the boy felt no alarm; he was not even flustered; the
feel of the key was good, and the atmosphere of that box which enclosed
the telegraph apparatus was sweet in his nostrils. He called up Denver,
from which the speech would be repeated to the greater cities, and with
a sigh of deep satisfaction settled to his task.

They tell yet in Western telegraph circles of Charlie Moore's great
exploit. The candidate was in grand form that night, and his speech came
rushing forth in a torrent. The missing Wymond was still missing, and
the luckless Barr was still ill, but the fledgling sat alone in the box,
his face bent over the key, oblivious of the world around him, and sent
it all. Through him ran the fire of battle and great endeavor. He heard
the call and replied. He never missed a word. He sent them hot across
the prairie, over the slopes and ridges, and across the brown plains
into Denver. And there in the general office the manager muttered more
than once: "That fellow is doing great work! How he saves time!"

The audience liked Jimmy Grayson's speech, and again and again the
applause swelled and echoed. Then they no