“I’m not blaming you,” snapped the L. D. “But get your men out now, while we sectionalize the line. Wait a minute though—how’s the storm up there?”

“Plenty bad. She started at sundown, and she’s been blowin’ and rainin’ and snowin’ and sleetin’ ever since—ain’t even stopped long enough to spit on her hands. You can’t see a hundred feet.”

“O.K. Get your men ready.”

The L. D. slapped down the receiver, and looked up to see his assistant standing in the doorway, telephone on chest.

“What power-house do you want to take over for French Bar?”

The L. D. was piqued that he had given a chance for the question to be asked, for at a time like this when water would be going to waste it was sheer extravagance to use an emergency steam-plant for a minute longer than was necessary. The L. D. considered a moment; in his brain he saw clearly a diagram of the company’s fifty-one hydro-electric plants scattered over a territory as large as Great Britain. Some of them were already carrying a full load; others were more or less out for overhauling; others had reservoirs depleted by the drought. But there was still plenty of reserve. Two Rivers Power-House, three hundred miles north, had plenty of water and had been operating at half-load that morning.

“Tell Two Rivers to take over,” he said. With these words, the L. D. had made the last adjustment necessary until (as was likely enough) the storm developed some new emergency elsewhere. He estimated an hour at least before Martley would report, but the time might be more, depending upon snow conditions and other difficulties. The L. D. then began to devote himself to his regular routine—bizarre enough at best, since it involved electricity, a product which cannot be stored but must be manufactured, transported, and consumed, all in the same instant.

Two hundred miles away Johnny Martley got busy on the telephone, but since even maintenance-men are human beings, their mustering consumed minutes in place of the fractions of seconds which had been all that was needed for the automatic electrical devices. One man off duty except for emergency, was still in his slippers and had to climb into his boots and “tin pants.” Another had just retired to privacy with the current issue of Ranch Tales. Nevertheless, within ten minutes they were fighting their way through the storm and assembling around the truck in the garage.

In the interval the French Bar operator under Martley’s direction and in co-operation with Ringgold had ordered switches closed at various points along the line, and by a series of tests had established that the break must be within five miles of the power-house. Ringgold informed the L. D., and the L. D. called French Bar again.

“Is your gang started?” said the L. D.

“Ready to roll. I’m talkin’ from the garage now.”