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   :PG.Id: 35594
   :PG.Title: The Radio Boys at Ocean Point
   :PG.Released: 2011-03-17
   :PG.Rights: Public Domain
   :PG.Producer: Roger Frank
   :PG.Producer: the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
   :DC.Creator: Allen Chapman
   :DC.Title: The Radio Boys at Ocean Point
   :DC.Language: en
   :DC.Created: 1922
   :coverpage: images/cover.jpg
   
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THE RADIO BOYS AT OCEAN POINT
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   This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
   almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
   re-use it under the terms of the `Project Gutenberg License`_
   included with this eBook or online at
   http://www.gutenberg.org/license.

   

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      Title: The Radio Boys at Ocean Point
      
      Author: Allen Chapman
      
      Release Date: March 17, 2011 [EBook #35594]
      
      Language: English
      
      Character set encoding: UTF-8

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      \*\*\* START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RADIO BOYS AT OCEAN POINT \*\*\*

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      Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net.

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   Getting up the aerial was a blistering hot job.

-----
   
.. class:: center

   | :xl:`THE RADIO BOYS SERIES`
   | 
   | (Trademark Registered)
   | 
   | THE RADIO BOYS AT OCEAN POINT
   | 
   | OR
   | 
   | THE MESSAGE THAT SAVED THE SHIP
   | 
   | BY
   | 
   | ALLEN CHAPMAN
   | 
   | AUTHOR OF
   | The Radio Boys’ First Wireless
   | The Radio Boys at Mountain Pass
   | Ralph of the Roundhouse
   | Ralph the Train Despatcher, Etc.
   | 
   | WITH FOREWORD BY JACK BINNS
   | 
   | *ILLUSTRATED*
   | 
   | NEW YORK
   | GROSSET & DUNLAP
   | PUBLISHERS
   | 
   | Made in the United States of America

-----

.. class:: center

   | **BOOKS FOR BOYS**
   | By Allen Chapman
   | 12mo. Cloth. Illustrated.
   |
   | **THE RADIO BOYS SERIES**
   | (Trademark Registered)

..

   | THE RADIO BOYS’ FIRST WIRELESS
   | Or Winning the Ferberton Prize
   | 
   | THE RADIO BOYS AT OCEAN POINT
   | Or The Message that Saved the Ship
   | 
   | THE RADIO BOYS AT THE SENDING STATION
   | Or Making Good in the Wireless Room
   | 
   | THE RADIO BOYS AT MOUNTAIN PASS
   | Or The Midnight Call for Assistance
   | 
   | THE RADIO BOYS TRAILING A VOICE
   | Or Solving a Wireless Mystery

.. class:: center

   **THE RAILROAD SERIES**
   
..

   | RALPH OF THE ROUNDHOUSE
   | Or Bound to Become a Railroad Man
   | 
   | RALPH IN THE SWITCH TOWER
   | Or Clearing the Track
   | 
   | RALPH ON THE ENGINE
   | Or The Young Fireman of the Limited Mail
   | 
   | RALPH ON THE OVERLAND EXPRESS
   | Or The Trials and Triumphs of a Young Engineer
   | 
   | RALPH THE TRAIN DESPATCHER
   | Or The Mystery of the Pay Car
   | 
   | RALPH ON THE ARMY TRAIN
   | Or The Young Railroader’s Most Daring Exploit

.. class:: center

   GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, New York

-----

.. class:: center

   | Copyright, 1922, by GROSSET & DUNLAP
   | *The Radio Boys at Ocean Point*
   | Published June, 1922

-----

.. class:: center

    FOREWORD
    
    By Jack Binns

In these days of Radio broadcasting, when
the country has gone wild over wireless music
and entertainment, there is a tendency to overlook
the other phases of radio—such as its use as a
means of saving life at sea, and for navigational
purposes generally. There is no doubt about the
interesting character of broadcasting, and
equally, there is no doubt about the importance
of radio as a means of life saving.

With this thought in mind, I think that the
present volume, detailing the adventures of the
Radio Boys, serves a very useful purpose in that
it forcibly portrays the use of wireless to bring
aid to a disabled ship on the high seas in a storm.

By doing this it will inculcate a desire among
boys to learn the wireless code and transmit wireless
telegraphy messages themselves, and in doing
so will tend to develop that nucleus of communication
experts in the coming generation, which
is always an imperative necessity to every nation.

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.. contents:: CONTENTS
   :backlinks: entry
   :depth: 1

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THE RADIO BOYS AT OCEAN POINT

CHAPTER I—TAKEN UNAWARES
========================

“Jiminy, but this is hot work!” exclaimed Bob
Layton, as he laid down the hammer he was
using and wiped his perspiring forehead.

“Hot is right,” agreed his friend, Joe Atwood,
as he also took a moment’s breathing space.
“You might almost think it was August instead
of early June. Old Sol must have got mixed up
in his calendar.”

“I’d call it a day and knock off right now if
we were doing anything else,” remarked Bob.
“But, somehow, when I get going on this radio
business I can’t seem to quit. There’s something
about this wireless that grips a fellow. Work
seems like play.”

“Same here,” said Joe. “I guess we’re thirty-third
degree radio fans all right. I find myself
talking radio, thinking radio, dreaming radio. If
there was any such thing as radio breakfast food
I’d be eating it.”

“I’m afraid we’ll get thin if we wait for that,”
laughed Bob, picking up his hammer and resuming
work on the aerial that they were stringing
on the top of his father’s barn. “But come along
now, old scout, and get a hustle on. We’re going
to finish this job to-day if it takes a leg.”

Joe stretched himself lazily.

“I hope it won’t come to that,” he replied. “I
need both legs in my business.”

“Well, come along and shake a leg anyway,”
counseled Bob. “I’m not asking you to lose one.”

“I’m glad we decided to make this aerial in
umbrella shape,” remarked Joe, as, following his
friend’s example, he set busily to work. “I think
it has it all over the vertical one. We’ll be able to
hear the messages from the broadcasting station
a heap better than we ever did before.”

“I’m sure we shall,” returned Bob. “That’s
the kind Doctor Dale is using on his set, and he
tried both the vertical and the flat-top kind before
he finally settled on this. It’s better for long-wave
work. It stands to reason that since it has
the greatest surface area it also has the greatest
capacity. Then, too, the end of the antenna that
has the greatest potential is nearest the ground.
The doctor gave me a lot of dope about it that
sounded reasonable. He knows by actual experience,
and that’s better than all the theory in the
world.”

“What Doctor Dale says goes with me all
right,” replied Joe. “He’s never been wrong yet
in any of the tips he’s given us. It’s funny, isn’t
it,” he continued, as he deftly drove a nail, “that
we’re never satisfied with what we’ve got in this
radio work? That first set we put together looked
pretty good to us at the time. Then the ones
with which we won the Ferberton prizes looked a
good deal better yet. But now here we are making
it still better.”

“That’s the beauty of radio,” said Bob, with
enthusiasm. “The surface of it hasn’t been more
than scratched so far. It’s practically a brand
new thing with a million features to be explored
and countless improvements to be made. I suppose
a few years from now we’ll be laughing at
the instruments we’re using now. They’ll seem
as old fashioned as the stage coach and the kerosene
lamp. Some of the best brains in the world
are working at it now, and there’s hardly a day
that you don’t hear of something new in connection
with it. It keeps you guessing all the time
as to what will turn up next.”

“Right you are,” agreed Joe. “Did you read
the other day about that man in Paris who runs
his house by radio? You know they have a powerful
radio outfit on the Eiffel Tower. That
starts operations at six o’clock every morning.
This fellow has rigged up things all over his house
that are controlled by the waves that come from
the tower. First the shutters fly open, then the
curtains are drawn back, then electric heaters get
into action and begin to make the coffee——”

“Say,” interrupted Bob, turning to look at his
friend, “what are you giving me? Trying to
get me on a string?”

“Honest to goodness, I’m not trying to kid
you,” replied Joe. “This is straight goods. The
coffee begins to bubble in the percolator, the
breakfast is started cooking, and the people are
waked up by electric bells placed alongside their
beds. If the weather is hot, the electric fans are
started working.”

“Does it wash and dress the baby, too?” demanded
Bob, with a laugh.

“I don’t know whether they’ve got as far as
that yet,” replied Joe, with a grin; “but it starts
a lullaby at night and sings the baby to sleep. It
sure does wonders. There seems to be no limit to
what it can be made to do.”

“We’ll have to tell Jimmy about that,” chuckled
Bob. “Anything that will save work will make a
hit with him. He’ll want to hitch it up so that
it will saw wood for him and mow the front lawn.
By the way, Joe, when did Jimmy say he’d be
around? He promised to help us out with this.”

“He said he wouldn’t be able to get here before
three,” replied Joe. “He had to go on an
errand for his father. But to-day’s baking day at
his house, and I smelled doughnuts cooking as I
came past. Ten to one he’s filling up on those.
That beats working on a roof in a hot sun.”

“I shouldn’t wonder if you were more than half
right,” agreed Bob. “But what’s keeping Herb?
He promised to help out on the job.”

“There’s company at his house,” explained
Joe. “But he said he’d slip away as soon as he
could and get over here.”

“Sounds mighty uncertain,” said Bob. “Looks
like a case of doing it ourselves if we want it done.
And it’s got to be done this afternoon. They’ve
got a dandy program on at the broadcasting station
to-night, and I don’t want to miss it.”

The two boys set to work with redoubled energy,
despite the sweat that rolled down their
faces and made them have frequent recourse to
their handkerchiefs.

“What’s the idea of all those rocks down at
the side of the barn, Bob?” inquired Joe, at the
moment that his work brought him close to the
edge of the roof.

“They’re for some repairing that dad’s going
to do to the barn,” replied Bob. “The side of it
has settled some, and he’s going to put in a new
stone foundation. The old shebang needs a lot
of fixing, anyway. The water pipes are rusty,
and they’ll have to be replaced. He wants to get
the place in shape before we go down to Ocean
Point for the summer.”

“Ocean Point!” repeated Joe, with a sigh.
“Why do you want to bring that up now when
I’m dripping with sweat? It’s cruelty to animals.
Say, Bob, what would you give just at this minute
to be taking a dip in the briny? Just imagine
yourself at the end of the pier with your hands
above your head, ready to dive down into that
cool green water, down, down, down, and feel it
closing all around you and——”

“Who’s cruel now?” groaned Bob. “Stop
right where you are or I’ll throw something at
you. Don’t you suppose I’m just as crazy as you
to get down there? It’s only last night that I
dreamed I was there. Oh, boy! The swimming,
the fishing, the boating, the games on the sand,
the——”

“Radio,” suggested Joe.

“Righto!” agreed Bob. “That will be a new
thing there that we’ve never had before. And
instead of being in a hot, stuffy room, we can sit
on the veranda, with the sea breeze blowing all
around us, and the ocean stretched before us in
the moonlight, and the lights of ships passing
up and down the coast and——”

“Back up,” laughed Joe. “You’re getting poetical.
You could almost set that to music. But
you’re dead right that it will be just what the
doctor ordered to listen to a radio concert under
such conditions. Where can we put up our radio
set? In your cottage or mine, I suppose.”

“I’ve got an idea it would be a good thing to
put it up in the community hall,” replied Bob.
“Then everybody could enjoy it, and there’s a
broader and bigger piazza there than any of the
cottages have. We’re all like one big family there
anyway.”

“That’s a dandy plan,” agreed Joe. “I
shouldn’t wonder, too, if we caught a good many
messages from ships while we are down there.
Almost all the vessels now are equipped with
wireless, and we ought to be able to listen in on
lots of talk going on with the shore.”

“I only wish we could talk back to them,” said
Bob. “I’m keen for the time when we can send
messages, as well as listen in on them. But that
will be possible, too, before the end of the summer.
I’m studying up hard on the code and I know you
are too, and we ought to be able to pass our examinations
soon and get the right to have a sending
station. But look who’s going down the
street, Joe!” he exclaimed, interrupting himself
suddenly.

Joe followed the direction of his glance and
gave a grunt of disgust.

“Buck Looker and his bunch,” he remarked
contemptuously. “Carl Lutz and Terry Mooney
always trailing along with him! I wonder what
low-down thing they’re cooking up now.”

“No knowing,” replied Bob carelessly.
“They’ve steered pretty clear of us since we got
back that set of Jimmy’s that they took. I have
to laugh whenever I think of them rolling over
and over in the dark and fighting each other when
they thought they were fighting us.”

Joe laughed too at the recollection.

“We put one over on them then all right,” he
agreed. “And I have to laugh, too, when I think
how he crawled yesterday when you called him
down in the school yard while he was bullying
little Sam Ashton.”

“I didn’t want to soil my hands with him,” returned
Bob. “I’d made up my mind never to
speak to him again. But it made my blood boil
when I saw the way he was tormenting a boy half
his size and I had to interfere.”

“It did me good to see how he backed down,”
chuckled Joe. “I really hoped he wouldn’t, for
I wanted to see him get a good trimming. But
Buck’s memory is good, and I guess he remembered
the thrashing you handed him the night he
was trying to wreck your aerial.”

“Perhaps,” laughed Bob. “I sure was sore at
him that night and I guess I gave him good and
plenty.”

“The pity of it was,” said Joe, “that nobody
was around to see you do it. Ten to one he told
his cronies afterward that it was he who licked
you. But there was no mistake yesterday. Lutz
and Mooney were standing close by and saw him
take water. He turned fairly green with fright
when he saw you double up your fists. You want
to keep your eyes open, Bob, for he’ll try to get
even by doing you a dirty trick whenever he
thinks he can get away with it safely.”

“Let him try,” replied Bob indifferently.
“That’s the least of my worries. What’s bothering
me a good deal more now is why Jimmy
and Herb haven’t turned up to help us out on this
job.”

“Guess they’ve got stalled somewhere,” hazarded
Joe. “But even if they don’t turn up we’ll
be done in half an hour or so. Then it’s me for
a cold bath and some dry clothes! I’m drenched
to the skin.”

A half hour later there was no sign of the
truants, but the job was done, and Bob and Joe
ran their eyes over it with keen satisfaction.

“Some little mechanics, old scout!” chuckled
Bob, slapping his friend on the shoulder. “Now
for that cold bath you were——”

He stopped suddenly and gave vent to an exclamation
of surprise.

“What’s the matter?” queried Joe, who was
adjusting his belt.

“The ladder!” exclaimed Bob. “It’s gone!”

Joe looked toward the edge of the roof, and
saw that the top of the ladder by which they had
mounted was no longer in sight.

“It must have fallen down,” he said; “but it’s
queer we didn’t hear it.”

“Fallen nothing!” snorted Bob, as he crawled
to the edge of the roof and looked over. “It
was resting solidly against the roof when we left
it, for I shook it with my hand to make sure.
Somebody has taken it down. There it is lying
on the ground, twenty feet away from the barn.”

“Now we’re in a nice fix!” exclaimed Joe, in
dismay. “Have we got to stay here all the afternoon
and be baked to a frizzle by this scorching
sun? Call to somebody in the house, Bob.”

“That’s the worst of it,” replied Bob lugubriously.
“Mother’s out calling to-day and there isn’t
a soul at home.”

The boys looked at each other, and the same
thought came into the minds of both.

“Buck Looker!” they exclaimed in one voice.

“That’s who it was,” declared Bob savagely.
“He and his gang have done this. If we could
see him, it follows that he could see us, and he
thought he’d keep us up here broiling while he
had the laugh on us. No doubt the whole crowd
are hiding somewhere and watching us at this
minute.”

“Well, they’re not going to make a show of
us,” Joe almost shouted in his wrath. “I’m going
to get down off this roof and I’m going to get
down quick, ladder or no ladder.”

Before Bob could stop him he had grasped the
water pipe that ran alongside the barn and started
to slide down.

“Don’t! Don’t!” cried Bob, in alarm. “The
pipe’s rusty! It’ll break! For the love of
Pete——”

His voice ended almost in a scream.

For at that moment what he feared happened.

The pipe broke beneath Joe’s weight. The
lad felt it going and grabbed frantically at the
upper part that was still fastened to the roof. He
caught it and held on, his legs dangling in the
air directly over the pile of rocks more than
twenty feet below. To fall on those rocks meant
broken limbs or death!

CHAPTER II—JUST IN TIME
=======================

At just the place in the pipe that Joe had
grabbed there was a band running around it, perhaps
a quarter of an inch thick. It was smooth
and slippery, but yet gave more support to his
clutching hands than would have been afforded
by the pipe itself. To this precarious support
poor Joe clung with desperation that was rapidly
becoming despair as he felt his arms tiring and
his hands slipping. A glance below had told
him what awaited him if he fell on that pile of
rocks.

Simultaneously with the breaking of the pipe
Bob had flung himself at full length on the roof,
with his arm extended over the edge. His feet
felt around frantically and found a cleat in the
roof in which he gripped his toes. Reaching as
far as he could over the edge with one hand and
holding on with the other, he found that he
could just reach Joe’s hands with his own.

If the roof had been flat, he might have been
able by sheer strength to pull his friend up. But
it was sloping, and, as he lay, his feet were considerably
higher than his head. So he had no
purchase, no way to brace himself and pull upward.
As it was, he had to dig his toes tightly
against the cleat just to sustain the weight of his
own body.

There was imminent danger that if he even
grasped Joe’s hand the added weight would pull
him over the edge of the roof. But this did not
deter him for a second. He reached down and
caught Joe around one of his wrists.

“I can’t pull you up, Joe,” he panted; “but
I can hold on to you until help comes.”

He lifted up his voice to shout for help, when
just at that instant Herb Fennington and Jimmy
Plummer turned the corner of the barn. They
were talking and laughing gaily together, but
stopped short with a cry of alarm as they saw
the terrible plight of their friends.

“Quick! Quick!” cried Bob. “Get the ladder
and put it up. Quick!”

There was no need of his frantic adjuration,
for Jimmy and Herb understood instantly the
tragedy that impended. They ran for the ladder,
and with some difficulty, for it was long and
heavy, put it up alongside the barn and close
to Joe’s swaying figure.

Then Herb, who was the stronger of the two,
ran up the rungs until he was directly opposite his
comrade.

“I’ll hold on to one arm, Joe,” cried Bob.
“Let go the pipe with the other and give it to
Herb.”

Joe did as directed and the two boys swung
him over to the ladder. He felt for the rung
with his feet, and when they were firmly planted
on it, Herb placed one of his hands on another
rung and Bob followed suit. Then while Jimmy
held the ladder at the foot to keep it from slipping,
Joe and Herb made their way slowly to the
ground and Bob came after.

They seated Joe on a box that stood nearby,
and his comrades crowded around him; joyful
beyond words at his narrow escape, clasping his
hands and slapping him on the back.

Joe was gasping under the muscular and nervous
strain that he had undergone in the few
minutes that had seemed to him like ages, but
he rallied gamely and tried to joke.

“I said I was going to get down off that roof
quick,” he said. “But I came mighty near coming
down quicker than I wanted to. I can’t thank
you fellows enough.”

And while they stand around him jubilating
over his rescue, it may be well, for the benefit of
those who have not read the preceding volume of
this series, to tell who the Radio Boys were and
what had been their adventures up to the time
this story opens.

Bob Layton was a stalwart, vigorous youth of
fifteen years, who lived in the thriving town of
Clintonia, a city of about ten thousand population
and located some seventy-five miles from New
York City. His father was a prosperous druggist
and chemist, esteemed and respected, and a
leader in the civic life of the town. Bob was tall
for his years, of dark complexion, with merry,
flashing eyes. He was a leader in baseball, football,
and the other athletic sports in which boys
of his age delight. He was frank, truthful,
courageous and a general favorite.

His special chum was Joe Atwood, son of a
prominent doctor of Clintonia. Joe differed from
Bob in being fair-skinned instead of dark. But
the qualities of character of both boys were such
as to make them close friends, and where one was
to be found the other was seldom very far away.
Joe, however, was impulsive, and his temper was
of the “hair trigger” variety that required frequent
curbing from his cooler-headed chum.

Of the many friends they had in town, the chief
perhaps were Herbert Fennington and Jimmy
Plummer. Herbert, or Herb, as he was usually
called, was the son of a merchant, and was an
easy-going, good-natured boy who was not especially
fond of work, but who had an unusual liking for jokes
and conundrums. He was slightly
younger than Bob and Joe, but not enough to
make much difference. Jimmy Plummer, the
youngest of the four, was the son of a carpenter.
He was jolly, fat, and round, with an appetite that
made him the subject of good-natured jesting
on the part of the other boys. He had been nicknamed
“Doughnuts” because of his special fondness
for that toothsome delicacy, and he did his
best to live up to the name.

The boys were always much together, but of
late their association had become still closer because
of their common interest in the wonders of
the wireless telephone. The marvelous features
of this great invention had caught fast hold of
their youthful imaginations, and they were soon
so much absorbed in it that almost everything
else was forgotten, or at least had to take second
place.

Two things happened at almost the same time
that increased their enthusiasm in this subject.
One was a talk given to them on radio discoveries
by Dr. Amory Dale, the pastor of the Old First
Church of Clintonia, who had a scientific turn of
mind and was most keenly interested in radio.
The inspiration he gave them by his talk, together
with practical object lessons on the making of
radio sets, had an importance that could hardly
be overestimated.

Shortly after this the member of Congress
from the district in which Clintonia was included,
Mr. Ferberton, offered prizes open for competition
to all the boys of the district for the best
radio sets made by the boys themselves. As the
first prize was for a hundred dollars and the
second for fifty, they were well worth trying for,
and Bob, Joe, and Jimmy set to work in earnest
to win one of them. Herb, owing to his natural
indolence, did not enter into the competition, a
circumstance that he afterward regretted.

They had a good many troubles and misadventures
about this time, owing chiefly to the
malice of Buck Looker, a bully of the town,
who, together with his cronies, Carl Lutz and
Terry Mooney, almost as bad as himself, did all
they could to hinder the radio boys in their
plans. Jimmy’s set was stolen by them on one
occasion and on another Bob detected Buck trying
to destroy his aerial at night, and gave the
bully the trouncing that he richly deserved.

A curious accident that happened in the town
opened to the boys a mystery that seemed difficult
of solution and set their feet on the path of
exciting adventures. How they rescued a girl
whose automobile had run wild and dashed
through the windows of a store, what they learned
of her story and how they got on the track of a
rascal who had swindled her, and what part the
radio played in the unraveling of the plot, are
narrated in the first book of this series, entitled:
“The Radio Boys’ First Wireless; Or, Winning
the Ferberton Prize.”

It did not take Joe long to recover from the
shock he had had when he found himself suspended
in midair over the rocks that had been
gathered for the repairing of the foundation of
the barn. Bob’s danger also had been great, and
all felt that they had reason for being profoundly
grateful over the happy outcome of the adventure.

“You just came in time, fellows,” said Bob.
“Joe is no featherweight, and my arm was getting
numb. A minute or two more and we’d both
have had a tumble that I hate to think about.”

“That shows what good judgment we had in
picking just the right time to come,” replied
Jimmy, winking slily at Herb. “It takes some
brains to be Johnny-on-the-spot just when you’re
needed. Not a minute too late, not a minute too
soon——that’s my motto.”

“I’ll admit that you took good care not to get
here too soon,” replied Bob, with a laugh.
“Where have you been all the afternoon? Why
did you leave Joe and me to hold the bag?”

“Look at his pockets and you’ll find the answer,”
said Joe, pointing to suspicious bulges in
Jimmy’s jacket pockets.

“That’s all the credit a fellow gets when he
tries to be generous,” complained Jimmy, in an
aggrieved tone, as he emptied the pockets in
question of half a dozen doughnuts. “Here I
wait until the doughnuts are made so that I can
bring along a lot for you fellows, and what do
I get? Nothing but abuse. I was just crazy
to help you fellows put up that aerial, but I sacrificed
my own feelings and waited for the doughnuts
so that you could have some.”

“Those doughnuts were cooking three hours
ago,” retorted Joe.

“How do you know?” asked Jimmy.

“Because I smelled them as I came past your
house,” replied Joe.

“Oh, that was the first batch,” explained
Jimmy. “Most of those have gone by now.”

“What became of them?” grinned Bob.

“How do I know?” countered Jimmy. “My
father and mother have pretty good appetites.
Then of course I sampled one or two. Mother
would have thought I didn’t like her cooking if I
hadn’t. And if there’s anything I won’t do it’s to
hurt my mother’s feelings. We never have more
than one mother, you know,” he added virtuously.

“Sampled one or two!” sniffed Joe. “One or
two dozen you mean.”

“How did you fellows come to get in such a
fix?” queried Herb. “Did the ladder fall down?”

“It did not,” returned Bob with emphasis. “It
was taken down while we weren’t looking by
somebody who wanted to play a trick on us. And
I can come pretty near to guessing who did it,
too,” he added.

“Why not come right out with it?” said Joe,
his face flushing with indignation. “It was Buck
Looker and his gang who did it. I’m just as sure
of it as though I had seen them. It’s no thanks
to them that I’m not dead or a cripple this
minute.”

“That explains something that Jimmy and I
noticed just before we came up,” said Herb eagerly.
“We saw Buck and Lutz hot-footing it
down one street and Terry Mooney down another.
I thought they were having a race around the
block or something like that.”

“That just proves what I said,” declared Joe.
“They were waiting around to gloat over the hole
they thought they had put us in. Then when
they saw that one or both of us were going to be
smashed on the rocks and perhaps killed, they
got scared and lit out so as to be as far away
as possible when the thing happened. Then they
couldn’t be suspected of being mixed up in it. It’s
all as clear as daylight, and it adds another tally
to the score we have against those fellows.”

“Oh, well, a yellow dog is a yellow dog, and he
acts according to his nature,” said Bob. “But
now since you fellows are here, come up the ladder
and take a look at the aerial and see what
kind of job we’ve made of it.”

Herb and Jimmy followed him up the ladder
and were loud in their praises of the new contrivance.

“Couldn’t have done it better myself,” said
Jimmy patronizingly. “I didn’t worry about my
not being here, for I had the fullest confidence
in you and Joe. I knew you’d get it up all right.”

He avoided the pass that Bob made at him, and
after the boys had gathered up the tools and left
everything shipshape, they came down the ladder
and rejoined their comrade.

“I guess it’s home for us now,” said Herb.

“And mighty glad I am that none of us has to
be carried home,” put in Bob.

“You bet,” remarked Joe, as he rose to go.
“Do you remember what you said, Bob, about
finishing that job if it took a leg? Well, it came
pretty near to taking one—or two—or perhaps
even worse than that.”

CHAPTER III—MARVELS OF RADIO
============================

“Don’t forget now,” Bob reminded them, as
his friends passed out of the gate on the way
to their respective homes. “Be over at the house
a little before eight, for the concert begins at
eight o’clock sharp, and there aren’t many things
in it that we want to miss. It’s the best program
that I’ve seen for a month past. There’s violin
music and band marches and opera selections and
a bit of jazz mixed in.”

“Sounds as if it were going to be the cat’s
whiskers,” said Jimmy.

“Jimmy, I’m ashamed of you,” said Bob, with
mock severity. “When are you going to leave
off using that horrible slang?”

“He might at least have said the ‘feline’s hirsute
adornments,’” muttered Joe. “That would
have been a little more dignified. But dignity
and Jimmy parted company a long time ago.”

“I didn’t know they’d ever met,” remarked
Herb. “But if they were ‘lovers once they’re
strangers now.’”

“I shook it when I found that it wasn’t good
to eat,” said the graceless Jimmy, nowise abashed.
“But you fellows had better stop picking on me
or it’ll be good-bye to any more doughnuts.”

They laughed and parted with another admonition
by Bob to be on time. He himself went into
the house and solaced himself with the cold bath
and change of clothes that he had been promising
himself all through that hot afternoon. A brisk
rubdown with a rough towel did wonders, and by
the time his mother returned he was feeling in
as good shape as ever, with the exception of a
touch of lameness in the right arm that had been
subjected to such an unusual strain that day.

There were grave looks on the faces of both
his parents as, at the supper table, he narrated
the events of the afternoon. Mingled with their
gratitude at his and Joe’s escape from injury, was
a feeling of deep indignation against the probable
authors of the trick.

“That Buck Looker is one of the worst if not
the very worst boy in town!” ejaculated Mr. Layton.
“There’s hardly a week goes by without
hearing something mean or rowdyish with which
he’s mixed up. He’s the kind of boy that criminals
are made of after they grow up.”

“One might have overlooked the taking down
of the ladder in itself,” commented Mrs. Layton;
“but the contemptible part was in running away
instead of running to help when he saw that the
boys were in danger of being crippled or killed.
He and his cronies could have got the ladder up
in time, for they knew of the danger before Herb
and Jimmy did. But he’d have let the boys be
killed rather than take a chance of himself being
blamed. That shows the stuff the boy is made
of.”

“Pretty poor stuff, I’m afraid,” agreed Bob.
“But, after all, Mother, here I am safe and sound,
and all’s well that ends well.”

By a quarter to eight that evening the boys
began to come, and even the tardy Jimmy was
on hand before the time scheduled for the concert
to begin. In addition to the pleasure they
anticipated from the unusually fine program, they
were keenly curious to learn what improvement,
if any, had been made by the installation of the
umbrella aerial.

They were not long left in doubt. From the
very first tuning in there was an increase in the
clearness and volume of the sound that surpassed
all their expectations. The opening number
chanced to be a violin solo, played by a master
of the instrument. It represented a dance of the
fairies and called for such rapid transitions up
and down the scale as to form a veritable cascade
of rippling notes, following each other with almost
inconceivable swiftness. And yet so clearly
was each note reproduced, so distinctly was each
delicate shading of the melody indicated, that the
player might have been in the next room or even
in the same room behind a screen.

The boys and the others were delighted. They
listened spellbound, and when in a glorious burst
of what might have been angel music the selection
ended, the lads clapped their hands in enthusiastic
applause.

“That’s what you can call music!” ejaculated
Bob.

“That player knows what he’s about,” was
Herb’s tribute.

“And how perfectly we heard every note,”
cried Joe. “We certainly made a ten strike, Bob,
when we rigged up that new aerial. It’s got the
other beaten twenty ways.”

“I guess you’re right about that,” said Jimmy.
“I don’t grudge a minute of the time you spent
this afternoon in putting it up. It was worth
all the trouble.”

Bob looked hard at him, but Jimmy was as sober
as a judge, and before either Bob or Joe could
frame a suitable retort the crashing notes of a
military band came to their ears and put from
them the thought of anything else. It was a medley
that the band played, composed of well-known
airs ranging from “Hail Columbia” to “Dixie”
and so inspiring was it that the boys’ hands were
moving and their feet jigging in time with the
music all through the performance.

For fully two hours they sat entranced through
a varied program that included things so dissimilar
as famous grand opera selections, the plaintive
melodies of Hawaiian guitars, and some jazz, and
when at last the list was ended the boys sat back
with a sigh of satisfaction, their faces flushed
and their eyes shining.

“Ever hear anything like it?” asked Bob, as he
relaxed into his chair and took off his ear pieces.

“It’s the best ever!” declared Joe. “And to
think that we can have something like it almost
any night we choose, and all of that without going
out of this room!”

“That’s the beauty of it,” Bob assented. “To
hear a concert that included such fine talent as
that we’d have to go to New York. That would
mean all the time and trouble of dressing up, the
long ride on the railroad train, the getting back
home at two or three o’clock in the morning, to
say nothing of the ten dollars apiece or thereabouts
that we’d have to pay for train fare and
tickets for the concert. For us four that would
mean about forty dollars. Now we haven’t paid
forty cents, not even one cent, we haven’t had to
dress, we’ve sat around here lazy and comfy, we
can go to bed whenever we like, and we’ve had
the concert just the same. And what we did
to-night we can do any night. I tell you, fellows,
we haven’t begun yet to realize what a wonderful
thing this radio is. It’s simply a miracle.”

“Right you are,” agreed Joe. “And just remember
that what’s true of us four is true of four
thousand or perhaps four hundred thousand.
Take the biggest concert hall in the United States
and perhaps it will hold five thousand. When it’s
full, everybody else has to stay away. But there’s
no staying away with radio. And every one has
as good a seat as any one else. Think where that
concert’s been heard to-night. People out as far
as Chicago and Detroit have heard it. They’ve
listened to it on board of ships out at sea. In
lonely farmhouses people have enjoyed it. Men
sitting around campfires up in the Adirondacks
have had receivers at their ears. Sick people and
cripples lying on their beds have been cheered by
it. Lonely people in hotel rooms far away from
home have found pleasure in it. There’s absolutely
no limit to what the radio can do. It seems
to me that it throws in the shade everything else
that’s ever been invented.”

“You haven’t put it a bit too strong,” chimed
in Herb. “But talking about a lot of people hearing
it makes me think that perhaps we fellows
have been a bit selfish.”

“What do you mean?” asked Jimmy in some
surprise. “It isn’t so long ago that we got
the old folks and sick folks together and gave
them a concert at Doctor Dale’s house—Joel
Banks and Aunty Bixby and the rest of them.”

“I don’t mean that,” explained Herb. “That
was all right as far as it went, and I hope we’ll
do it soon again. But what I have in mind are
our own folks and our friends. Our fathers and
mothers haven’t heard much of this concert to-night,
and there are some of the fellows that we
might have invited in.”

“But we have only four sets of ear pieces,” objected
Jimmy. “I suppose of course we could attach
a few more——”

“I get Herb’s idea,” interrupted Bob, “and it’s
a good one. He thinks that we ought to have a
loud-speaker—a horn that would fill the room with
sound and do away with the ear pieces altogether.”

“You hit the bull’s-eye the first time,” Herb
conceded. “In other words, instead of having a
concert for four have it for fourteen or forty.”

CHAPTER IV—FACING THE BULLY
===========================

The radio boys ruminated over Herb’s suggestion
for a little while.

“The idea itself is all right,” pronounced Joe
slowly, “but the trouble is that we couldn’t do
it very well with this set, which is the best we’ve
been able to make so far. We can hear the sound
that comes over the wire well with these earpieces
glued to our ears, but the sound would be lost
if it were spread all over the room.”

“Wouldn’t the horn help out on that?” asked
Herb.

“Not by itself, it wouldn’t,” answered Bob.
“It’s a mistake to think that the horn itself makes
the sound or increases its loudness. The only
use of the horn is to act as a relay for the
diaphragm of the receiver and connect it with
the air in the room. But the sound itself must
first be in the receiver. And with a crystal detector,
such as we’re using in this set, I’m afraid
that we couldn’t get volume of sound enough. It
would be spread out over the room so thinly that
no one would be able to hear anything. We’ll
have to amplify the sound, and to do that there’s
nothing better than a vacuum tube. That’s the
best thing that the world has discovered so far.”

“I guess it is,” remarked Jimmy. “Doctor
Dale has one in his set.”

“Yes,” chimed in Joe. “He even has more than
one. The more there are the louder and clearer
the sound.”

“I don’t suppose we could make one,” Herb
remarked.

“No; that’s one thing that costs real money,”
replied Bob. “But don’t let that bother you. I’ve
got quite a lot left of that hundred dollars of the
Ferberton prize, and there’s nothing I’d rather
spend it for than to improve the radio set.”

“Count me in on that, too,” said Joe. “I’ve
scarcely touched my fifty.”

“How about the horn?” queried Jimmy. “Will
that have to be bought, too?”

“No,” replied Bob. “That’s something you can
make. That is, if you’re not too tired from the
work you did on setting up the aerial this afternoon.”

“But,” objected Jimmy, ignoring the gibe, “I
don’t know anything about working in tin or steel.
I haven’t any tools for that.”

“The horn doesn’t have to be made of metal,”
answered Bob. “In fact, it’s better if it’s not.
Some horns are even made of concrete——”

“Use your head for that, Jimmy,” broke in
Herb irreverently.

“But best of all,” Bob continued, while Jimmy
favored the interrupter with a glare, “is to make
the horn of wood. Take some good hard wood,
like mahogany or maple, polish the inside with
sandpaper after you’ve hollowed it out, give it a
coat of varnish or shellac, and you’ll have a horn
that can’t be beaten. It’s very simple.”

“Sure!” said Jimmy sarcastically. “Very simple!
Just like that! Simple when you say it
quick. Simple as the fellow that tells me how to
do it.”

“Just imagine you’re hollowing out a doughnut,”
put in Joe, grinning. “You’re an expert at
that.”

“I’ll tell the world he is,” agreed Herb, with
enthusiasm.

“That reminds me,” said Bob, “that there’s
some pie in the pantry and sarsaparilla in the ice-box
that mother told me to pass around among
you fellows. That is, of course, if you care for
it,” he added, as he paused in seeming doubt.

“If we care for it!” cried Jimmy, the creases of
perplexity in his brow disappearing as if by magic.
“Lead me to that pie. I’ll fall on its neck like a
long-lost brother.”

“It’ll fall into your neck, you mean,” chuckled
Herb, and in less than two minutes saw his
prophecy verified.

“And now,” said Bob, after the last crumb and
drop had disappeared, “I don’t want to tie the
can to you fellows, but I hear dad moving around
and locking up, and that’s a sign to skiddoo.
We’ll think over that idea of Herb’s and get a tip
from Doctor Dale as to the best way to go about
it.”

There was a chorus of hearty good-nights and
the radio boys separated.

Two days later, as Bob and Joe were coming
home from school, the latter, looking behind him,
gave vent to an exclamation that drew Bob’s attention.

“What’s up?” he asked, turning his head in the
same direction.

“It’s Buck Looker and his bunch!” exclaimed
Joe, a flush mounting to his brow and his eyes
beginning to flame. “He’s been careful to keep
out of my way so far. Let’s wait here until he
catches up to us.”

“You’ll wait a long time then, I guess,” replied
Bob, “for he’s seen us, too, and he’s slowing
up already. He doesn’t seem a bit anxious
to overtake us.”

“Then we’ll have to go back and meet him,”
said Joe grimly. “I’m going to have it out with
him right here and now. He needn’t think he’s
going to get away scot free after the trick he
played on me.”

“What’s the use, Joe?” counseled Bob. “You
can’t prove it on him and he’ll only lie out of it.
It’s bad policy to kick a skunk.”

But Joe had already turned and was striding
rapidly back toward Buck and his companions,
and Bob went along with him.

There was a hurried confabulation between
Buck and his cronies as they saw Bob and Joe advancing
toward them, and a hasty looking from
side to side, as though to seek some means of
escape. But there was no street handy to turn
into, and as it would have been too rank a confession
of cowardice to turn their backs and
run, the trio assumed a defiant attitude and waited
the approach of the swiftly moving couple.

Joe stopped directly in front of the bully, while
Bob ranged alongside, keeping a sharp watch on
the movements of Lutz and Mooney.

“Why did you take down that ladder the other
afternoon, Buck Looker?” asked Joe, looking his
opponent straight in the eye.

Buck’s look shifted before Joe’s gaze, but he
affected ignorance.

“What ladder and what afternoon?” he countered, sparring
for time. “I don’t know what
you’re talking about, and for that matter I guess
you don’t either.”

“I know perfectly well what I’m talking about,
and so do you,” replied Joe, coming so near to
him that Buck gave ground. “You and your
gang took away the ladder from the side of Bob’s
barn, and in trying to get down I nearly broke my
neck.”

“Pity you didn’t,” blustered Buck. “If your
ladder fell down and you didn’t have sense enough
to wait for some one to come along and put it up
for you, that wasn’t any fault of mine. I wasn’t
anywhere near Layton’s barn that whole afternoon.”

“We know better,” said Joe. “Bob and I saw
you going along the street a little while before
we missed the ladder, and Herb Fennington and
Jimmy Plummer saw you and your crowd running
away like mad while I was hanging to the
pipe alongside the barn.”

“You shut up!” yelled Buck, in a burst of rage.

“Take off your coat, Buck Looker,” cried Joe,
dropping his books to the ground, “and I’ll give
you the same kind of a trimming that Bob gave
you the night you tried to wreck his aerial.”

For answer Buck tightened his grip on the
strap that held his books.

“You stand back, Joe Atwood,” he cried, with
a quaver in his voice, “or I’ll soak you with these
books!”

Joe laughed his disdain.

“You coward!” he exclaimed, and was springing
forward when a warning exclamation came
from Bob.

“Stop, Joe,” he commanded. “Here comes Mr.
Preston.”

A look of vexation came into Joe’s eyes and a
look of relief into Buck’s as they looked and saw
the principal of the high school walking rapidly
toward them.

CHAPTER V—A BIG ADVANCE
=======================

With the coming of the school principal and
the certainty that the threatened row was over,
for the present at least, all Buck Looker’s usual
truculence returned.

“It’s lucky for you that Preston happened to
turn up just now,” he snarled. “I was just getting
ready to give you the licking of your life.”

“I noticed that,” said Joe dryly, as he picked up
his books. “Only instead of doing it with your
fists, you were going to do it with your books,
like the coward that you are. You gave yourself
away that time, Buck. It isn’t necessary for
any one to show you up. You can be depended
on to do that job yourself.”

By this time the principal was only a few
yards away, and Buck and his friends walked
away rapidly, while Bob and Joe followed more
slowly, so that Mr. Preston soon caught up with
them.

“Good afternoon, boys,” he said, as he came
abreast of them. “You seemed to be a little excited
about something.”

“Yes, we were having a little argument,” admitted
Joe.

The principal looked at them sharply and
waited as though he expected to hear more. But
as nothing further was said, he did not press the
matter. If the trouble had taken place in the
school or on the school premises, he would have
felt it his duty to go to the bottom of the affair.
But he had no jurisdiction here, and he was too
wise a man to mix in things that did not directly
concern him or his work.

“Well, how goes radio?” he asked, changing
the subject. “Are you boys just as enthusiastic
over it as you were the night you won the Ferberton
prizes?”

“More so than ever,” replied Bob, and Joe confirmed
this with a nod of the head. “It’s getting
so that almost every minute we have out of
school we’re either tinkering with our set or listening
in. We’ve just finished putting up a new
umbrella aerial, and it’s a dandy.”

“I use that kind myself,” said Mr. Preston. “I
get better results with it than I do with anything
else.”

“Why, are you a radio enthusiast, too?” asked
Bob, in some surprise. “I didn’t have any idea
you were interested in it.”

“Oh, yes,” affirmed the principal, with a smile.
“I’m one of the great and constantly increasing
army of radio fans. I understand there are more
than a million of them in the United States now,
and their ranks are being swelled by thousands
with every day that passes. I use it for my own
personal pleasure and for that of my family, but
I also have an interest in it because of my profession.”

“I understand it’s becoming quite a feature in
education,” remarked Joe.

“It certainly is,” replied Mr. Preston. “Many
colleges and high schools now have radio classes
as a regular part of their course. College professors
give lectures that go by radio to thousands
where formerly they were heard by scores. I’ve
been thinking of a plan that might be of help in
the geography classes, for instance. Suppose
some great lecturer or traveler who has been in
faraway lands should give a travel talk from some
broadcasting station. Then while he was describing
China, for instance, we might have moving
pictures thrown on a screen in the classroom
showing Chinese cities and customs and types.
Both the eye and the ear would be taught at the
same time, and in a most interesting way, it seems
to me. What do you think of the idea?”

“Fine,” said Bob.

“Dandy,” agreed Joe. “There wouldn’t be any
lack of interest in those classes. The boys would
be eager to have the time for them come.”

“Well,” smiled Mr. Preston, “it’s only an idea
as yet, but it’s perfectly feasible and I shouldn’t
be surprised to see it in general use in a year or
two.”

He turned into a side street just then with a
pleasant good-bye, and the boys went on their
way together, picking up Jimmy, who was just
emerging from a store.

“What was Mr. Preston talking to you about?”
asked Jimmy, with some curiosity, for he had
witnessed the parting. “Hauling you over the
coals, was he, for something you’ve done or
haven’t done?”

“Nothing like that,” replied Joe. “We just
found out that he is a radio fan like the rest of
us.”

“Funny, isn’t it, how that thing is spreading?”
murmured Jimmy musingly. “You couldn’t
throw a stone now without hitting somebody who
is interested in radio.”

“All the same, I wish he hadn’t caught up to us
when he did,” grumbled Joe. “I was just going
to mix it with Buck Looker when he came along.”

“Buck has lots of luck,” commented Jimmy.
“Tell me all about it.”

They told him all the details of the meeting,
and became so engrossed in it that they almost ran
into Dr. Dale, who was just coming up from the
railroad station.

He greeted them with great cordiality, which
met with quite as hearty a response on their part,
for the minister was a prime favorite with them
and they always felt at their ease with him.
There was nothing prim or professional about
him, and his influence among the young people
was unbounded.

He chatted with them for a few minutes until
they reached Bob’s gate.

“Won’t you come up on the porch for a few
minutes, Doctor?” asked Bob. “There are some
things we’d like to ask you about radio.”

“Certainly I will,” replied the doctor, with a
smile. “There’s not much that I’d rather talk
about. In fact, I was just about to tell you of an
interesting experience that I had this very afternoon.”

He went with the boys up the steps and dropped
into the chair that Bob drew up for him.

“Tell us about that first, Doctor,” urged Bob.
“Our questions can come afterward.”

“I just had the luck to get on a train coming
home that had a car attached to it where they were
trying out a new radio system,” replied the minister.
“I heard about it from the conductor,
whom I know very well, and he arranged it so
that I could go into the car where they were
making the experiments. They had a radio set in
there with a horn, and the set was connected with
an aerial on the roof of the car. They sent out
signals to various stations while the train was
going along at the rate of forty miles an hour,
and got replies that we could hear as plainly as
though one of the people in the car were talking
to the others. The whole thing was a complete
success, and one of the officials of the road who
happened to be in the party told me that the express
trains on the road were going to be equipped
with it.

“Of course, if one road does that, it will not
be any time before all the others will, too. It’ll
not be long before we can be sitting in a car
traveling, let us say from New York to Albany,
and chat with a friend who may be on another
train traveling between Chicago and Denver. Or
if a business man has started from New York to
Chicago and happens to remember something important
in his office he can call up his manager
and give him directions just the same as though
he pressed a buzzer and called him in from the
next room.”

“It sounds like magic,” remarked Bob, drawing
a long breath.

“If we’d even talked about such things a few
hundred years ago we’d have been burned at the
stake as wizards,” laughed the doctor.

“The most important thing about this railroad
development,” he went on, “is not the convenience
it may be in social and business life, but in the
prevention of accidents. As it is now, after a
train leaves a station it can’t get any orders or
information until it gets to the next station. A
train may be coming toward it head on, or another
train ahead of it and going in the same direction
may be stalled. Often in the first case orders
have come to the station agent to hold a train until
another one has passed. But the station agent
gets the message just a minute too late, and the
train has already left the station and is rushing
on to its fate. Then all the agent can do is to
shudder and wait for news of the crash. With
the radio equipment he can call up the train, tell
of the danger, and direct it to come back.

“Or take the second case where a train is
stopped by some accident and knows that another
train is coming behind it on the same track and
is due in a few minutes. All they can do now is
to send back a man with a red flag to stop the
second train. But it may be foggy or dark, and
the engineer of the second train doesn’t see the
flags and comes plunging on into the first train.
With the radio, the instant a train is halted for
any reason, it can send a message to the second
train telling just where it is and warning of the
danger. Hundreds have been killed and millions
of dollars in property have been lost in the past
just because of the old conditions. With the
radio installed on trains, that sort of thing will
be made almost impossible in the future.

“But there,” he said, with a smile, “I came up
here to answer your questions, and I’ve been doing
all the talking. Now just what is it you wanted
to ask me about radio?”

CHAPTER VI—THE WONDERFUL TUBE
=============================

“It’s about getting a vacuum tube,” replied
Bob, in answer to the doctor’s question. “The
crystal detector is all right when we use the ear
pieces. But we got to thinking about a horn so
that lots of people could enjoy the concerts at
the same time, and we figured that the crystal
wouldn’t be quite good enough for that.”

The doctor smiled genially.

“I knew you’d be wanting that sooner or later,”
he said. “It’s the second natural step in radio
development. While you were still getting
familiar with the working of the wireless, the
crystal would do very well. But there comes a
time to all amateurs when they get to hankering
after something that is undeniably better. And
the vacuum tube is that thing.”

“It seems funny to me that the vacuum tube
could have any use in radio,” put in Jimmy. “I
never thought of it in any way but as being used
for an electric light.”

“Neither did lots of other people,” replied the
doctor, smiling. “Even Mr. Edison himself
didn’t realize what its possibilities were. He did,
though, discover some very curious things about
it. In fact, he made the first step that led to its
use for radio. He put a plate in one of his lamps.
The plate didn’t touch the filament, but formed
part of a circuit of its own with a current indicator
attached. Then when he turned on the
light and the filament began to glow, the needle
of the indicator began to twitch. Since the filament
and the plate weren’t touching, the movement
of the needle indicated that the electricity
must have jumped the gap between the two. But
this simply showed that an invisible connection
was established between the filament and the plate
and nothing more came of it at the time.

“Now, it’s likely that even yet we shouldn’t
have had that discovery of Edison’s used for the
development of radio if it hadn’t been for the
new theory of what electricity really is. That
theory is that everything is electricity. This chair
I’m sitting on, the railing to this porch, the hat
that Jimmy is holding in his hand—all that is
electricity.”

Jimmy gave a little jump at this, and held his
hat rather gingerly at arm’s length and looked
at it suspiciously.

The doctor joined in the laugh that followed.

“Oh, you needn’t be afraid that you’ll get a
shock,” he said. “Electricity won’t hurt you as
long as it’s at rest. It’s only when it gets stirred
up that high jinks are apt to follow.”

Jimmy looked relieved.

“Now,” continued the doctor, “the theory is
that all matter is composed of an infinite number
of electrons. An electron is the smallest thing
that can be conceived, smaller even than the atom
which used to be thought of as the unit. There
may be millions, billions, quadrillions of them in
a thing as big as a hickory nut. And when these
electrons get busy you can look out for things
to happen.

“Every hot object sends out electrons. That’s
the reason that the filament in the electric light
tube sends them out.”

“I suppose a red-hot stove would send them
out, too,” suggested Joe. “If that is so, I should
think that people would have found out about
them long ago.”

“Ah, but there’s this difference,” explained the
doctor. “The red-hot stove does send them out,
but the air stops them. Remember that the atoms
of which the air is composed are so large that the
poor little electrons have no chance against them.
It’s like a baby pushing against a giant. It can’t
get by.

“Now the vacuum tube comes along, knocks out
the giant of the air, and lets the baby electrons
pet past him. The air is pumped out of the tube
and the electrons have nothing to stop them.
That’s why Mr. Edison saw the needle on the
plate begin to move, although the plate wasn’t
touching the filament. The electrons jumped
across the gap between the filament and the plate
because there was nothing to stop them.

“With this discovery of Mr. Edison’s to aid
him, a man named Fleming came along, who
found that the oscillations caused by the flow of
electrons to the plate could be utilized for the
telephone by the use of what he called an oscillation
valve that permitted the passage of the current
in one direction only. That was the second
important step.

“But these two steps alone wouldn’t have made
radio what it is to-day if it hadn’t been for the
wonderful improvement made by DeForest. He
mounted a grid of wire between the filament and
the plate connected with a battery. He found
that the slightest change in the current to the grid
made a wonderfully powerful increase in the current
that passed from the filament to the plate.
Just as when you touch the trigger of a rifle you
have a loud explosion, so the grid magnifies tremendously
the sound that would otherwise be
weak or only ordinary. And by adding one
vacuum valve to another the sound can be still
further magnified until the crawling of a fly will
sound like the tread of an elephant, until a mere
whisper can become a crash of thunder, until the
ticking of a watch will remind you of the din
of a boiler factory, and the sighing of the wind
through the trees on a summer night will be like
the roar of Niagara.

“But there,” he broke off, with a little laugh,
“I’m letting my enthusiasm carry me away. It’s
hard to keep calm and cold-blooded when I get
to talking about radio.”

“Well, you don’t care to talk about it more
than we care to hear about it, you can be sure
of that,” said Joe warmly.

“Yes,” chimed in Jimmy, “to me it’s more interesting
than a—a pirate story,” he added rather
lamely.

“With the advantage,” laughed Dr. Dale, “that
the pirate story usually has lots of pain and misery
in it for somebody, while the radio has nothing
but benefit for everybody. Why, you can
scarcely think of any experience in which the
radio won’t help. Take an Arctic expedition for
instance. It used to be that when a ship once disappeared
in the ice floes of the Arctic regions it
was lost to the world for years. Nobody knew
whether the explorers were alive or dead, were
failing or succeeding, were safe and snug on board
their ship or were shipwrecked and freezing on
some field of ice. Look at the Greeley expedition,
when for months the men were freezing and
starving to death. If they had had a radio outfit
with them, they could have communicated with
the outside world, told all about their plight, given
the exact place they were in, and help would have
gone to them at once. Not a man need have perished.
So if a crew were shipwrecked on a desert
island, they wouldn’t to-day have to depend on a
flag or bonfire to catch the attention of some ship
that might just happen to be passing near the
island. All they would have to do would be to
send out a radio message—provided, of course,
they had one from the wrecked ship’s stores or
had material to make one—and a dozen vessels
would go hurrying toward them. Those naval
balloonists that were lost in the wilds of Canada a
couple of years ago, that other expedition that
perished in the heart of Labrador, and similar
cases that might be counted by the dozens—all
could have been helped if they had been able to
tell their troubles to the outside world. I tell
you, boys, we haven’t half begun to realize what
the discovery of radio means to the world.

“Now all this leads us back to vacuum tubes, for
it’s only with them that all these things would be
possible. Perhaps in the future something better
yet will be invented, but they’re the best we
have at present. I’m heartily in favor of you
boys using a tube instead of a crystal, because it
will give you vastly more enjoyment in your work.
I wouldn’t have more than one at the start, but
later on it may be well to have more. I have a
catalogue up at my house of the various makes
and prices, and if you’ll run up there any time
I’ll give it to you. At the same time I’ll show you
just how it’s got to be inserted and attached.
Maybe also I’ll be able to help you in the making
of the horn. I’ll have to go now,” he added, looking
at his watch. “It’s surprising how the time
flies when we get on this subject. Good-bye,
boys, and don’t forget to drop in at the house
whenever you can.”

The radio boys watched the minister’s straight,
alert figure as he went rapidly up the street.

“Isn’t he all to the good?” asked Bob admiringly.

“You bet he is!” agreed Jimmy emphatically,
the others nodding their assent.

CHAPTER VII—BASEBALL BY WIRELESS
================================

For the next week the radio boys worked like
beavers. They had pored over the catalogue that,
according to his promise, Dr. Dale had lent them,
and, acting on his advice, had picked out a tube
of well-known make that could be bought for a
moderate price. They had had to send to New
York for it, because Dave Slocum did not have
just that kind in stock, and they were feverish
with impatience until it arrived. In the period
of waiting they pitched in and helped Jimmy with
the horn, and even Herb became sufficiently infected
by the energy of the others to turn to and
do his share of the work.

The precious tube arrived on Saturday morning,
and Bob, who had ordered it, was gloating
over it when the other boys came over to the
house.

“It’s come at last!” he cried exultantly, holding
up the tube for their inspection.

There were exclamations of satisfaction as the
others gathered round Bob and examined it.

“And it’s come just in time to get a good
christening,” declared Joe. “That is, if we can
have everything ready by three o’clock this afternoon.”

“What do you mean?” asked Bob.

“Why, I just read in the morning paper that
the broadcasting station is going to send out the
big baseball game between the Giants and the
Pittsburghs at the Polo Grounds this afternoon,”
replied Joe. “They say that they’re going to send
out the game play by play, every ball pitched,
every strike, every hit, every base stolen, every
run scored, so that you can follow the game from
the time the first man goes to the bat till the last
man goes out in the ninth inning. What do you
think of that?”

What they thought of it was evident from the
chorus of jubilation that followed. All of them
were ardent baseball fans, and in addition to that
were good players themselves. Bob was pitcher
and Joe first baseman on the High School nine,
while Jimmy played a good game at short and
Herb took care of the center field garden.

Naturally, with this love of the game, they were
keenly interested in the championship races of
the big major league ball teams and, during the
season, followed the ups and downs of their favorites
with the closest attention. That spring the
race had been especially hot between the Giants
and the Pittsburghs. Both had started out well,
and the Giants had cleaned up the majority of
games in the East, while the Pittsburghs had been
cutting a big swath in the West.

Now the Pittsburghs were coming to New York
on their first invasion of the year, and interest
ran fever high in the Metropolis and the section
round about. The newspapers were devoting columns
of space to the teams, and it was certain
that there would be a record attendance at the
game that afternoon.

“Bully!” cried Herb, as he danced a jig on
the receipt of Joe’s news.

“It will be almost as good as sitting in the
grandstand behind the home plate,” exulted
Jimmy.

“Best thing I’ve heard since Sitting Bull sat
down!” exclaimed Bob, as he clapped his friend
on the shoulder.

“First time we’ll ever have seen a championship
baseball game without paying for it,” laughed
Joe.

“I wouldn’t exactly call it seeing the game,”
said Bob. “But it’s certainly the next thing to
it. But now let’s get busy so that we’ll be sure
to have everything ready by the time the game
begins.”

They needed no urging and worked so fast and
well that by dinner time they had the tube and
horn arranged to their satisfaction. That left
them time enough to go around among their
friends and invite them to come in and enjoy the
game with them. The invitation was accepted
with alacrity, and some time before the hour set
for the game to begin Bob’s room was filled with
expectant boys.

Naturally, Bob, as host, was a little anxious
and nervous as the moment approached when his
improved set would be put to the test. It would
have been a mortifying thing for him to fail.

He felt sure that every attachment and connection
had been properly made and that nothing
essential had been overlooked. Still, it was with
a certain feeling of apprehension that he turned
the knob to tune in when his watch told him that
it was three o’clock. The day was hot, and
“static” was likely to be troublesome.

There was a moment of hissing and whistling
while he was getting perfectly tuned. Then he
caught it just right, and into the room, clear and
strong, came the announcement of the umpire,
repeated by the man at the broadcasting station:

“Ladies and gentlemen: The batteries for to-day’s
game are Blake and McCarthy for Pittsburgh,
Hardy and Thompson for New York.
Play ball!”

There was a roar of delight from the boys in
the crowded room and a clapping of hands that
made Bob’s face flush with pleasure. But he
held up his hand for silence, and the excited boys
settled back in their chairs, listening intently so as
not to miss a feature of the game.

Then followed, play by play, the story of the
first inning with the Pittsburghs, as the visiting
team, first at bat.

The hum of conversation had ceased in the
room, and the boys leaned forward intently, anxious
not to lose a syllable.

“Strike one!” came in stentorian tones.

“Ball one!” followed.

“Strike two!”

“Elton singles to center. Allison made a bad
return of the ball, and Elton by fast running
reached second. Maginn at bat.”

“Strike one!”

“Maginn lays down a sacrifice between first
and second and is out at first. Elton gets to
third on the play.”

It was evident that the Giant pitcher had not
yet got into his stride, for he passed the next
two batters, and the bases were filled with only one
man out.

“He’s as wild as a March hare,” whispered
Jimmy to Herb.

“Sure looks like a run with Krug coming up,”
replied Herb. “He can everlastingly lambaste
the ball. He’s made two homers this week already.”

“Ball one,” “ball two,” “ball three,” followed in
quick succession.

“Looks as if he were going to pass him, too, to
get a chance at Hofmeyer,” murmured Joe.

“That would be poor dope, for it would force
in a run,” replied Bob. “I guess he simply can’t
locate the plate. It’s funny the manager doesn’t
take him out.”

“Krug hits a sharp grounder to Helmer,” came
the voice. “Helmer shoots the ball to Menken,
forcing Ackerson at second, and Menken by a
lightning throw gets Krug at first. Three out.
One hit, no runs.”

There was a ripple of applause at the snappy
double play.

“That pulled the pitcher out of a tight hole all
right,” laughed Bob. “Gee, but I bet the Pittsburghs
are sore. The bases full and only one
man out, and yet they couldn’t score.”

“That’s what makes a baseball game so exciting,”
returned Joe. “You can’t be sure of anything.
Just when you think the game is all
sewed up something happens and the whole thing
goes ke-flooey.”

“Can’t you imagine how the Giant rooters are
yelling their heads off at the Polo Grounds?”
chuckled Jimmy.

The Giants in their turn at bat went out in
one, two, three order.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” came the voice a moment
later: “Roberts now pitching for New
York.”

“I thought they’d take out Hardy,” commented
Herb. “He was as wild as a hawk in that first
inning, and the manager isn’t going to take
chances.”

In the next three innings neither side scored.
Roberts, the new choice of the manager, was
pitching like a house afire, and did not let a man
reach first. The Pittsburgh pitcher was also on
his mettle, and mowed his opponents down almost
as fast as they came to the plate.

In the fifth inning, however, the Giants broke
the ice.

“Wharton lifts a Texas leaguer back of second,”
came the voice. “Krug and Hofmeyer
went for it, but the ball fell between them.”

“Strike one!”

“Foul—strike two!”

“Miller lines the ball to right. Maginn, instead
of waiting for the ball on the bound, rushes
in to make a shoestring catch and the ball gets
past him. Elton retrieves the ball and makes a
great throw to the plate to catch Wharton, who
has rounded third and is racing for home. He
slides under the catcher’s arm and scores. Miller
in the meantime makes third.”

Again there came the murmur of applause that
showed how the boys were wrought up by the
play that they saw in their minds’ eye almost
as plainly as if it were right before them.

“Helmer hits to Hofmeyer,” went on the voice,
“and Miller is run down between third and home,
the batter reaching second on the play.”

“Ball one!”

“Ball two!”

“Helmer makes a clean steal of third.”

“Ball three!”

“Guess the Pittsburgh pitcher is getting a little
nervous,” whispered Jimmy.

“That steal, together with the error in center,
is getting his goat,” assented Herb.

“Allison sends the ball on a line into the right
field bleachers for a homer, scoring Helmer in
front of him,” the voice announced.

“Gee, but that must have been some clout!”
ejaculated Joe. “That fellow sure can kill the
ball.”

The pause that followed told them as plainly
as words of the yelling and excitement at the
grounds that were holding up the game.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” came the announcement: “Ralston
now pitching for the Pittsburghs.”

“Batted the other fellow out of the box!” exclaimed
Jimmy gleefully, who made no bones of
the fact that he was rooting for the Giants.

“Him for the showers,” agreed Herb, who was
also a Giant adherent.

“I guess the Giants have put the game on ice,”
exulted Joe.

“Don’t be too sure,” warned Bob. “Those
Pittsburghs are fence breakers, and they may
stage a rally any minute. It takes more than a
three-run lead to make them curl up.”

That they were not going to “curl up” became
evident as the game progressed toward its close.
They fought like tigers for every advantage, made
hair-raising stops and throws and slugged the ball
ferociously. But a Giant fielder seemed to be
in front of every ball, and when the Pittsburghs
came up for their last inning the score was still
3 to 0 in favor of the New York team.

But in that ninth inning!

CHAPTER VIII—A THRILLING CLIMAX
===============================

It is certain that the Polo Grounds was a bad
place for any one troubled with a weak heart
during that ninth inning of the Giant-Pittsburgh
game.

That the boys from the Smoky City were “out
for blood” was evident from the moment that
Elton, the first man up, faced the pitcher.

“Elton swings at the first ball offered and
sends a screaming liner to left,” proclaimed the
radio voice. “It caromed off the left field wall
and was skilfully handled by Miller, who by a
quick return was able to hold the runner to two
bags.”

“Pretty good beginning,” murmured Herb,
shifting a little uneasily in his seat.

“Oh, that’s nothing,” Joe reassured him.
“One swallow doesn’t make a summer and one hit
doesn’t win a ball game.”

“Maginn sends a grasser between second and
third,” continued the voice. “Elton scored easily
and Maginn reached second on a close decision.”

“That saves Pittsburgh from a shut-out anyway,”
muttered Jimmy. “But I guess that’ll be
about all.”

In this, however, he was mistaken.

“Wilson drives the ball on a line over second,”
went on the voice. “Menken made a great attempt
to spear it but couldn’t reach. A quick relay
of the ball kept Maginn from getting beyond
third, but on the throw-in Wilson reached
second.”

“Men on second and third and no man out!”
ejaculated Joe.

“Those fellows have got their batting clothes
on,” commented Bob. “Did you notice that each
one of them offered at the first ball pitched? I
guess they’ve solved Roberts at last.”

That the manager of the Giants had reached the
same conclusion was evident from the pause that
followed and the subsequent notice that Compton
had taken Roberts’ place in the box.

“Strike one!”

“Strike two!”

“That begins to sound better,” Jimmy comforted
himself.

His satisfaction was of short duration.

“Ackerson hits to deep short. The ball took a
high bound and Helmer by a brilliant effort
knocked it down, but too late to get the runner
at first. Maginn scored and Wilson reached
third.”

“That makes two runs,” sighed Herb. “One
more and they’ll tie the score.”

“And with two men on bases and nobody out,
they’re almost sure to do that much at least,”
muttered Bob. “It’s too bad to have the Giants
blow the game just when they had it in their
kit bags.”

The silence was almost painful as the boys
waited for the next announcement.

“Ackerson steals second just beating Thompson’s
good throw by a hook slide.”

Almost a groan went up in the crowded room.
Some of the boys got so restless that they rose
and paced the room, or sat forward in their chairs
as though they were straining their eyes to look
at the actual diamond.

“A single now will bring in two runs and put
Pittsburgh in the lead,” groaned Jimmy.

“And with Krug, their clean-up man at the
bat!” said Bob glumly.

“Strike one!”

“Ball one!”

“Ball two!”

“He’s trying to make him bite at bad ones,”
commented Herb.

“Strike two!”

“Ball three!”

“Now he’s got Compton in a hole,” murmured
Jimmy. “He’s got to put the next ball over.”

“And if he does, I’m afraid that Krug will kill
it,” gloomed Joe.

There was a momentary pause.

“Krug hits a terrific drive to the box,” announced
the voice. “Compton leaps into the air
and spears it with his left hand. He throws to
Albers and catches Wilson, who had left the bag,
Albers hurls the ball to Menken and gets Ackerson,
who was trying to scramble back to second.
Triple play, three men out and the Giants win,
three to two!”

There was a moment of stupefaction in the
crowded room. Then a roar broke out that
brought Mrs. Layton up to the room in a hurry
under the impression that something dreadful had
happened.

“It’s all right, Mother,” laughed Bob. “We’re
only excited over the baseball game. It came
out so unexpectedly that it took us all off our
feet.”

“You seem to be all on your feet, as far as I can
judge,” Mrs. Layton smiled back. “But you can
make all the noise you want as long as you are
happy,” and with a wave of her hand she left
them.

“A triple play!” exclaimed Bob hilariously.
“The thing that happens only once in a blue moon.
Say, fellows, maybe we didn’t pick out a corking
game to christen our radio with!”

“And almost as good as though we were right
at the grounds,” cried Joe. “I’ve seen many a
game, and I never got more real excitement over
one than I’ve had this afternoon. I could almost
hear my heart beat while I was wondering what
Krug was going to do.”

“And just think what it will be when the
World’s Series comes along in the fall!” chuckled
Jimmy. “We’ll take in every game without going
out of Clintonia.”

“That is, if it’s played in the East,” put in
Herb. “It may not be so easy if it’s played in
the West.”

“It doesn’t matter where it’s played,” rejoined
Jimmy. “By the time fall comes, we’ll probably
have improved our radio set so that we can listen
in on Chicago just as easily as we have to-day on
Newark. And, anyway, the results will be sent to
the Newark station so that it can be broadcasted
all over the East. We’ll take them all in, never
you fear, and we won’t have to pay a fortune to
speculators for the tickets either. But what is
that I smell?” he broke off suddenly, sniffing the
air that had become laden with savory odors.

“See his nose twitch,” gibed Joe. “Trust him
to forget baseball or anything else when doughnuts
are around.”

“Doughnuts!” exclaimed Jimmy, an expression
of cherubic bliss coming on his face. “Can it
be? Yes, there can be no mistake. It must be—it
is—doughnuts!”

“Right the first time,” laughed Bob. “I didn’t
want to say anything about it while the game was
on, but Mother gave me a tip that she’d start
making them so that we could have them fresh
and hot by the time we were through. So come
ahead downstairs, fellows, and if any of you get
away without having your fill of about the niftiest
doughnuts ever made, it will be your own
fault.”

There was no need of a second invitation, and
the boys, with Jimmy in the van, hurried downstairs
where several big dishes heaped high with
crisp, delicious doughnuts awaited them. They
fell to at once, and the table was swept clear as
though by magic.

“That puts the finishing touch on a perfect
day,” sighed Jimmy, with perfect content.

“Right you are,” agreed Joe. “And say, fellows,
wasn’t that a peach of a game?”

CHAPTER IX—THE LOOP
===================

“Do you know, fellows,” remarked Bob, as
he was talking with his friends a few days later,
“I’ve been thinking——”

“Bob’s been thinking!” cried Herb. “Fire the
cannon, ring the bells, hang out the flags. Bob’s
been thinking!”

“Are you sure it’s that, or have you only been
thinking that you’ve been thinking?” grinned Joe.

“When did it attack you first?” asked Jimmy,
with great solicitude. “And where does it hurt
you worst? Are you taking anything for it?
You don’t want to let it go too long, Bob. I knew
a fellow who had that same trouble and didn’t
think it was worth while to send for a doctor, and
before he knew it——”

Bob made a dive at him that Jimmy adroitly
ducked, losing nothing but his hat in the process.

“Listen to me, you boneheads,” Bob commanded,
“and I’ll try to get down on the same
level with your feeble intelligence. I’ve been
thinking that perhaps we can better our set still
more in the matter of aerials.”

“Alexander always looking for new worlds
to conquer,” murmured Joe. “We nearly got
killed the last time we bettered our aerial. What’s
the matter with the umbrella type? I thought
that was the *ne plus ultra*, the *sine qua non*, the—the——”

“The *e pluribus unum*,” Herb helped him out,
“the *hoc propter quod*, the *hic jacet*, the *requiescat
in pace*, the——”

At this point his hat followed Jimmy’s.

“The umbrella kind is good, all right,” admitted
Bob; “and, for that matter, I’m not dead sure
that it isn’t the best. It certainly gave us fine results
in the baseball game on Saturday. But
there’s nothing so good that there may not be
something better, and I thought it might be well
to rig up a loop some day and try it out. If
it works as well or better than the umbrella, we
may use it when we come to set up our radio at
Ocean Point.”

“Is it a big job?” asked Herb, who as a rule
was not on speaking terms with anything that
looked like work.

“No,” answered Bob. “It’s easy enough to
make. We’ll just get Jimmy here to make a
frame for it down in his father’s carpenter
shop——.”

“Jimmy!” repeated that individual, in an aggrieved
tone. “We’ll just get Jimmy to make
the horn. Sure! We’ll just get Jimmy to make
a frame. Sure! I suppose if one of us was
marked out to die, you’d say, ‘We’ll just let
Jimmy do it.’ Just as easy as that.”

“Stop right there, Jimmy,” commanded Joe.
“You’ll have me crying in a minute, and it’s an
awful thing to see a strong man weep.”

“After Jimmy has made the frame,” continued
Bob, not at all moved by the pathos of the situation,
“all we’ll have to do will be to wind it about
eight times with copper wire. That will give us
a lot of receiving area and capacity. The frame
ought to be about four feet square. It’ll have to be
mounted on a pivot——”

“Let Jimmy make the pivot,” murmured
Jimmy.

“So that it can be swung end on in the direction
of the broadcasting station,” continued Bob,
not deigning to notice the interruption. “It has to
be pointed in that direction in order to get the
message. If it were at right angles, for instance,
we probably would hear only very little or perhaps
nothing at all. You see, with that kind of aerial
we don’t have to put up anything on the roof at
all. We could have it inside the room. It could
be fastened to a hook in the ceiling, so that when
we weren’t using it we could hoist it up and get
it out of the way. That kind is used a lot on
ships and at ship stations on shore. They call
it sometimes a ‘radio compass.’ You can see it
must be pretty good or they wouldn’t use it so
widely.”

“It is good,” broke in a bass voice behind them,
and as they turned in surprise they were delighted
to recognize in the owner of the voice Mr.
Frank Brandon, the radio inspector, by whose
aid they had been able to track down Dan Cassey,
the rascal who had tried to defraud Nellie Berwick,
an orphan girl, of her money.

There was an exclamation of pleasure from all
of the boys, with whom Mr. Brandon was a great
favorite.

“What good wind blew you down this way?”
asked Bob, after the greetings and hand-shakings
were over.

“A little matter of business brought me down
to a neighboring town, and while I was so near
I thought I would run over to Clintonia and call
on my old friend, Doctor Dale,” replied Brandon.
“He told me that you boys won the Ferberton
prizes,” he continued, addressing Bob and Joe,
“and I congratulate you. I wasn’t surprised, for
I knew you’d been doing hard and intelligent work
on your sets. And I can see from the conversation
I overheard that you’re just as much interested
in it as ever.”

“More than ever,” affirmed Bob, and the others
agreed. “We’re just crazy about it. We think
it’s just the greatest thing that ever happened.”

“There are lots more who think the same
thing,” said Brandon, with a smile. “And I guess
they’re about right. By the way, there’s an interesting
thing about that radio compass you
were speaking about that isn’t generally known.
I was over on the other side when the thing happened,
and I got some inside dope on it.”

“Tell us about it,” urged Bob, and the others
joined in.

“It was just before the battle of Jutland,” replied
Brandon, “which, as of course you know,
was the biggest naval battle fought during the
World War. The German fleet had been tied
up in their own home waters for nearly two years,
and hadn’t ventured out to try conclusions with
the British fleet that was patrolling the North
Seas. In fact, it began to be thought that they
never would come out. But at last the German
naval leaders determined to risk a battle. They
made their preparations with the greatest secrecy,
because, their vessels not being as numerous as
those of the British, their only chance of success
lay in catching a part of the British fleet unawares
before the rest of the fleet could come to their
rescue.

“But the British naval authorities were on the
alert. They had this radio compass you were talking
about developed to a high point of efficiency
and were able to listen in on the orders given by
the German commanders to their vessels. The
Germans hadn’t any idea that they could be overheard
and used their wireless signals freely.
Now, you remember that the battle took place on
May thirty-first.”

They did not remember at all, but they nodded
their heads and tried to look as wise as possible.
Jimmy especially had such an owlish expression
that the others could hardly keep from laughing.

“On the night of May thirtieth,” resumed
Brandon, “the German flagship wirelessed a lot
of instructions that were heard at several places
on the British coast. These were compared and
it was possible to ascertain just where the flagship
was stationed. The next morning the flagship
sent another lot of orders, that were also heard
by the British. It was then found that the flagship
had moved seven miles down the river from
the station where she had been the night before.
That showed that the fleet was on the move. Instantly
the British fleet was sent out to meet them.
So when the Germans came out to surprise the
British, they found that it was the other way
around and it was they themselves that were surprised.
Well, you know the result. The German
ships had to retreat to their harbor, and
they never came out again except to surrender
after the war was over. That was one way that
radio helped to win the war.”

“Just as it helped our aviators,” put in Joe.

“Precisely,” assented Mr. Brandon. “The Germans
are usually pretty well up in science, but we
put it all over them in the matter of wireless while
the war was on.”

CHAPTER X—OFF FOR THE SEA SHORE
===============================

“But valuable as the radio was in war,” Brandon
went on, “I believe it is going to be still more
valuable in the matter of maintaining peace. I
think, in fact, that it may do away with war altogether.”

“I don’t quite get you,” said Bob, with a puzzled
air.

“In this way,” explained Brandon. “It’s going
to make all the people of the world neighbors.
And when people are neighbors they’re usually
more or less friends. They have to a large extent
the same interests and they understand each other.

“Now, most wars have been due to exclusiveness
and misunderstandings. Each nation has
dwelt in its own borders, behind its own mountains
or its own rivers, and they’ve shut out of
their minds and interests all people outside of
themselves. They’ve grown to think that a
stranger must necessarily be an enemy. Some
little thing happens that makes them mad and
they’re ready to fight.

“But the radio is going to break down all these
barriers of exclusiveness and remove these misunderstandings.
When people get to talking together
each finds that the other one isn’t such a
bad fellow after all. When a man in Paris picks
up his telephone and has a chat with one man in
England and then another man in Spain and still
another in Italy he finds that they are all human
beings and very much like himself. If he had the
Englishman, the Spaniard, the Italian in his office
together, he’d probably invite them out to dinner
and they’d all have a good time. When the time
comes that in every country in South America
men can tune in on the radio and listen to the
inaugural address of the President of the United
States coming from his own lips, they’ll know
that we have no unfriendly designs on their country
and are only anxious to see them happy and
prosperous. We’ll hear the same speeches, we’ll
listen to the same concerts, and gradually we’ll
come to feel that we’re all neighbors. That’s why
I say that the radio may in the course of time
make all wars impossible, or at least very improbable.”

“It sounds reasonable,” commented Bob. “I
only hope that you’re right.”

“I’m mighty glad that we happened to be in
town when you dropped in to see the doctor,” said
Joe. “A few days later and we’d all have
been down at Ocean Point for the summer.”

“Ocean Point!” exclaimed Mr. Brandon. “Is
that where you boys are going?”

“Yes,” replied Joe. “Our folks have a little
colony down there, and we go every summer.
Why, do you know anything about the place?”

“I should say I did!” replied Mr. Brandon, “I
usually spend a week or two at Ocean Point myself,
and I have a cousin there who has charge of
the Ocean Point radio station. His name is
Brandon Harvey. His first name you see is the
same as my last name.”

“Why, that’s fine!” exclaimed Bob.

“Radio seems to run in your family,” said
Herb, with a smile.

“We’ll look him up and introduce ourselves,”
said Joe. “We’re all radio fans, and that’s a sort
of freemasonry.”

“You’ll find him a good fellow,” said Brandon.
“And I’m sure he’ll be glad to meet you. If I
happen to get down there about the same time
that you do, I’ll take you around and introduce
you myself. You’ll find that what he doesn’t
know about radio isn’t worth knowing. He can
run rings all around me.”

“He must be pretty good then,” laughed Bob.
“Though I don’t believe it. But it will be dandy
if you are able to spend part of the summer with
us down there.”

“What time are you going?” asked Mr. Brandon.

“Just as soon as school closes,” answered Bob.
“The closing exercises are to be held next
Wednesday, and we expect to get off the next
day.”

“Not losing any time, are you?” smiled Brandon.
“Well, I’ll see how I can fix it, and I
shouldn’t be surprised if you’d find me waiting
for you when you get there.”

They had reached the school gate by this time,
and with cordial farewells they separated.

The next few days passed with great rapidity.
The boys were busy in preparing for the closing
examinations, and even their beloved radio had
to be laid aside for a time. Bob and Joe had kept
well up in their classes and did not anticipate much
trouble in passing, but Jimmy and Herb had been
more remiss, and it took many anxious nights and
much “boning” to prepare for the ordeal.

However, they all got through, Bob and Joe
with flying colors and Jimmy and Herb with
marks that were at least respectable. And it was
a happy group of boys who on the Wednesday
afternoon that the school term came to a close
tossed their books up on the shelves, not to be disturbed
again until the fall.

But there is apt to be a fly in the ointment, and
the fly on this occasion was the news that Jimmy
passed on to his companions the night before
they left for Ocean Point.

“Say, fellows, who do you think is going down
to Ocean Point for the summer besides our
bunch?” he asked, almost out of breath with the
haste he had made to come over to the Laytons’
house, where the friends were seated on the porch
enjoying the evening breeze after a hot day.

“President of the United States, for all I
know,” answered Joe flippantly, as he fanned
himself with his cap.

Jimmy glared at him.

“It can’t be the old Kaiser,” said Herb. “Don’t
tell me, Doughnuts, that it’s the Kaiser.”

“Worse than that,” answered Jimmy. “Buck
Looker and his gang are going to be there.”

There was a general straightening up of his
astonished hearers.

“What?” ejaculated Bob. “I’m knocked all in
a heap!”

“Say that again,” demanded Joe. “Or, rather,
don’t say it again. Let me think it’s all a horrible
dream.”

“Sure as shooting,” affirmed Jimmy. “I was
in Dave Slocum’s store when Mr. Looker came in
to get some fishing tackle. He got to talking to
Dave, and told him that he was going to take his
family down to Ocean Point for the summer, and
that Buck was going to take a couple of his friends
along with him. He didn’t say who the friends
were, but of course we know it wouldn’t be any
one but Carl Lutz and Terry Mooney. In fact,
those are the only fellows he hangs out with.
None of the decent fellows in town will have anything
to do with him. So what do you think of
that?”

“Punk!” declared Joe.

“It’s a shame that we can’t get rid of that gang
even in vacation time,” said Bob. “Half the fun
of getting through with school was the thought
that we wouldn’t have to look on Buck’s ugly
face for a couple of months.”

“It’s lucky the air down at the Point is salt,
or Buck would poison it,” remarked Herb disconsolately.
“That fellow’s a regular hoodoo.”

“Oh, well,” Bob comforted himself, “we don’t
have to mix up with him, anyway. He won’t
be living in our little separate colony, and our
folks and his never had anything to do with each
other. It’ll probably be only once in a while when
we have to come across him. And it’s more than
likely that he’ll steer clear of us, for he knows
he’s about as popular with us as a rattlesnake at a
picnic party.”

“If he tries any of his low-down tricks there
won’t be any Mr. Preston to save him again from
a licking,” put in Joe. “But let’s forget him and
think of something pleasant.”

The women of the party had gone that same
day to the Point in order to get everything ready
for the coming of the boys and their sisters on the
morrow. The fathers were still in town, where
business or profession detained them. Their plan
for the summer was to go down to the Point for
the week-ends only.

Dr. Atwood, Joe’s father, had taken his wife
and the other women down to the resort in his
spacious car early in the morning. It was only a
pleasant spin of about forty miles, and after seeing
them comfortably settled, he had returned in order
to take the boys and girls down on the following
day.

He found on his return, however, that a friend
of Herb Fennington’s sisters, Agnes and Amy,
had arranged to take the girls down early that
evening. They had asked Rose Atwood to go
down with them, so that left only the radio boys
to take the trip down the next day in the doctor’s
car.

And as the boys had to pack their suitcases and
get their fishing tackle and other sporting material
together they stayed chatting only for a little
while on Bob’s porch that evening and separated
early.

The next morning dawned gloriously and gave
promise of a perfect day. The doctor was on
hand at about ten o’clock, and the boys bundled
into the car, full of the highest spirits and looking
forward to a summer of unalloyed fun and
sport.

The doctor himself drove, and the car, under his
skilful handling, made rapid time along the beautiful
roads. The boys joked and laughed and
sang and enjoyed themselves to the full. They
were like so many frisky colts let out to pasture.

As they passed through the little town of Lisburn
they saw a young girl watering the flowers
in the garden of one of the houses. Bob’s keen
eye detected and recognized her at once.

“It’s Miss Berwick!” he cried. “Doctor, would
you mind stopping here a minute?”

“Certainly I’ll stop,” replied the doctor, with a
smile, and slowed down immediately. “Take all
the time you want.”

Bob and Joe jumped out and ran to the gate.
The girl looked at them for a moment and then
with a glad cry came hurrying toward them.

“How glad I am to see you,” she cried, extending
both hands in welcome. “Come into the
house.”

“Thank you,” answered Bob. “We’d like to,
but we’re with a party and can stay only a minute.
But we had to stop to say how do you do and ask
you how everything was going with you.”

“Couldn’t be better,” she answered, with a
smile. “I’ve got my health back completely. And
I have my house, and my mind’s at rest, thanks to
you two boys. I’ll never forget what you did for
me in rescuing me from that wrecked auto and
then later in getting that mortgage back from the
man who was trying to cheat me.”

“Oh, what we did was nothing much, and anybody
else would have done the same thing,” disclaimed
Bob. “But tell us about that rascal, Dan
Cassey. Have you seen or heard anything about
him?”

“Only once,” replied Miss Berwick. “He came
back to this vicinity to wind up his affairs and
get out. I met him one day on the road when no
one else was about. I was going to pass him
without speaking, for I dread the man almost as
much as I despise him, but he planted himself in
my way and went on dreadfully about you boys.
Said he was going to fix you for butting into his
affairs—those were the words he used. Some one
came in sight just then and he passed on. But
what he said has worried me. I do hope you boys
will keep on your guard against him. I’d feel
dreadful if anything happened to you for being
so good to me.”

“Don’t worry about us,” Bob adjured her.
“We’re able to take care of ourselves.”

“Did he stutter as much as usual?” asked Joe,
with a grin.

“Worse, if anything,” Miss Berwick answered.
“He had to whistle to go on.”

They all laughed, and after a moment more of
conversation and repeated warnings from the
girl to be careful, the boys said good-bye and
went to the car. She waved to them until the car
was out of sight.

The doctor put on a little extra speed to make
up for the delay, and the car purred along the
road until finally Ocean Point came in sight. A
cry of delight broke from the boys as they saw
the ocean stretched out before them, that shimmering,
sunlit ocean that seemed so friendly now,
but whose menace and danger they were soon
to feel.

CHAPTER XI—A LONG SWIM
======================

“Ocean Point strikes me as being just all
right,” said Bob, as he stretched out luxuriously
in one of the comfortable chairs on the shady
porch.

“Right you are,” agreed Joe, heartily. “We
ought to acquire a coat of sunburn here that will
last over the winter and into next spring.”

“It wouldn’t take long out in that sun to get
cooked nice and brown on both sides,” said Bob.
“It’s going to be hot work putting up the aerials.”

“Yes, but the best of it is that, no matter how
hot you get, you can always cool off again in jig
time by taking a dive in the ocean,” said Joe.
“And that’s what I’m going to do pretty soon,
too.”

“You won’t have to go alone, I can promise
you that,” said Jimmy. “I don’t want to go in
before we get the antenna strung up, though,
because when I once do get there, I shan’t want
to come out in a hurry.”

“You’ll come out soon enough, Doughnuts,
when you find a big shark chasing you,” said
Herb, with a sly wink at the others. “I’ve been
told that there’s a big man-eating shark around
here that’s just lying in wait for somebody to
come in and furnish a nice dinner for him.”

“Shark, nothing!” exclaimed Jimmy. “Anyway,
if there were sharks around here, they’d be
just as apt to eat you or Bob or Joe as they would
be to go after me.”

“Not a bit of it,” said Herb seriously. “This
shark I’m telling you about doesn’t care for any
one but very fat people. That’s what makes me
think it would be dangerous for you to go in.”

“Well, I don’t know that I can blame the shark
for preferring me to you,” said Jimmy, refusing,
with the wisdom born of long experience, to take
Herb’s story seriously. “If the shark swallowed
you, I’ll bet he’d die of indigestion afterwards.”

“All right, then, do as you please, but don’t
say I didn’t warn you,” said Herb resignedly.
“You don’t get much gratitude for trying to do
people favors anyway, I’ve found.”

“If you fellows put as much energy into getting
that aerial strung as you do in chinning with each
other, we’d be receiving messages by now,” said
Bob, laughing. “Let’s get busy and get things
fixed up, and then we’ll go down and see if there’s
any sign of that shark friend of Herb’s.”

The radio boys all agreed to this, and without
further delay took up the business of stringing
the antenna. They had brought two masts with
them, and these they proceeded to mount on the
roofs of the two bungalows occupied by the Laytons
and the Atwoods. These were so situated
that the umbrella antenna ran directly over the
community living room, thus giving an ideal condition
for sending, as the boys intended to set up
their apparatus in the big living room, so that
everybody in the little colony could get the benefit
of the nightly concerts and news bulletins sent
out by the big broadcasting stations.

As the radio boys had surmised, getting up the
aerial was a blisteringly hot job, and before they
had been at it many minutes the perspiration was
running off them in streams. They kept doggedly
at it, however, and at last the final turn-buckle
had been tightened up, and everything
looked taut and shipshape.

“There!” exclaimed Bob, looking with satisfaction
at the result of their labors. “I guess it
will take a pretty strong gale to knock that outfit
over.”

“A cyclone, you mean,” said Joe. “I don’t
think anything short of that would even bother
it.”

“Well, we’ll hope not,” said Bob. “Who’s
going for a swim? It would take a whole school
of sharks to keep me out of the water now.”

The others were of the same mind, and it did
not take them long to jump into their bathing
suits and make a dash for the white beach. A
gentle surf was breaking with a cool, splashing
rumble that seemed almost like an invitation to
come in and get cool. The boys were not long in
accepting it, and dashed in with shouts and
laughter. They were all good swimmers, and
they gave themselves up to the delight of breasting
the incoming breakers, rising and falling with
the slow heave and swell of the cool, green ocean.
Puffing and blowing, flinging the spray from
their eyes, they passed beyond the surf, and then
slowed down, just exerting themselves enough to
keep their heads above water.

“Wow!” exclaimed Jimmy. “This is the life,
eh, fellows?”

“I’ll say so!” agreed Bob. “Where’s that
shark of yours, Herb?”

“Oh, I suppose he’s away visiting some friends
of his,” said Herb. “But if you wait around
long enough, we’ll probably see him. Just have
a little patience, can’t you?”

“All the patience in the world,” laughed Joe.
“I don’t really care how long he stays away, myself.”

“He couldn’t catch me if he did come around,”
boasted Jimmy. “I’ll bet none of you hobos can
catch me, anyway,” and he was off in a smother
of foam.

This was a challenge not to be overlooked, and
the rest were after him like hounds after a fox.
Jimmy soon found it an impossibility to make
good his boast, and before he had gone fifty
yards he was overhauled by Bob, and then by
Joe. Herb did his best for a while, but soon decided
that it was more trouble than it was worth,
and turned over on his back and floated instead.

“Why, you couldn’t beat a lame crab, Doughnuts,”
chaffed Bob, as they all slowed up to get
their wind. “I thought from the way you talked
that you were the boy wonder of the world.”

“Oh, I don’t care. I made you fellows work
hard, anyway,” panted Jimmy, puffing out a
mouthful of water that he had inadvertently
shipped. “This is one place where I can exercise
without getting overheated, anyway.”

“No danger of that,” said Joe. “I’m about
ready to go in for a while. How about you
fellows?”

“Guess it might be a good idea,” said Bob.
“We’re out further than I thought, as it is.”

In fact, when the boys looked toward the shore,
it did look a long distance away. But they swam
in easily, with long, easy strokes, reveling in the
clean tang of the salt water and the joy of the
brilliant sun on their faces as they clove through
the sparkling waves. Before long they had
reached the outer line of gentle combers, and let
themselves be carried shoreward in a rush and
swirl of white foam. A little further, and they
felt the hard sand of the beach, and got on their
feet, somewhat winded, but intoxicated with the
joy and sense of glorious well being that comes of
salt spray, glinting sun, and salty breeze.

“That was the greatest ever!” exclaimed Bob,
flinging himself down in the soft, hot sand.
“Fresh water is all right, but give me old ocean
for real sport.”

Each boy burrowed out a comfortable nest in
the sand, which felt very warm and grateful after
the cold sea water. But it was not very long before
the sun began to make itself felt, and pretty
soon their bathing suits were steaming.

“Say!” exclaimed Jimmy, at length, scrambling
to his feet, “it’s me for the water again. I can
begin to feel my skin drying up and getting nice
and crispy. Who’s game for another swim?”

It appeared that they all were, and with shouts
and laughter they once more dashed into the surf.
They did not stay in so long this time, however,
as it was drawing on toward evening, and they
all had ravenous appetites that told them it must
be nearly supper time.

Jimmy was the first to put this thought into
words.

“I feel as though I hadn’t eaten anything in
days,” he remarked. “I’ve often heard that salt
water was a great thing to give a person an appetite,
and now I know it.”

“Yes, but I don’t believe that you have to come
all the way to Ocean Point, Doughnuts, to get
one,” said Herb. “I don’t see how you could very
well eat more than you do when you’re in Clintonia.”

“Huh! I don’t suppose you feel hungry at all,
do you?” asked Jimmy.

“Well, I must admit I feel as though I could
punish a pretty square meal,” said Herb. “But
if I were as fat as some people I know, I’d be
ashamed to talk about eating, even.”

“Maybe if I floated around on my back while
I’m in the water, instead of really swimming, I
wouldn’t feel so hungry, either,” said Jimmy
scathingly, and this turned the laugh on Herb.

“He’s got you there, Herb,” said Bob. “If
you keep on you’ll be getting fat yourself. If
you ever do, you’ll be out of luck, because Jimmy
will never get through pestering you about it.”

“I guess I won’t have to worry about that for
a while yet,” said Herb. “It will take me a good
many years to catch up with Jimmy.”

“Don’t you worry about me,” said that aggrieved
individual. “I don’t worry about you
just because you look like an animated clothespin,
do I?”

Herb was still trying to think up some fitting
reply to this when his meditations were cut short
by their arrival at the little bungalow colony.

There were several small bungalows grouped
about one much larger one. This latter contained
a large dining and living room and a kitchen big
enough to supply the needs of all the families
residing in the smaller buildings. It was in this
large central living room that the boys had started
to set up their radio apparatus when the lure of
the ocean had tempted them away.

They returned none too soon, for the evening
meal was ready, but, as Joe remarked, “It was
no more ready than they were.” They did all
the good things ample justice, and then went out
on the wide veranda to rest and allow digestion to
take its course.

“We ought to be able to get the set working
this evening,” remarked Bob, as they sat looking
out over the sand, with the boom of the surf in
their ears, “provided, of course, we all feel energetic
enough to tackle it.”

“Well, I’m willing to take a fling at it a little
later,” said Joe. “But just at present I don’t
feel strong enough even to handle a screw driver.”

“I’ll bet Jimmy’s crazy to get to work, anyway,” said
Bob. “How about it, old energetic?”

But the only answer was a gentle snore from
Jimmy’s direction, and everybody laughed.

“Guess that swim has tired him out,” said Joe.
“Swimming in salt water always seems to leave
you mighty lazy afterward.”

“You boys must be more careful when you go
swimming, and not go out so far from shore,”
said Mrs. Atwood, Joe’s mother. “This afternoon
I was watching you from the porch, and it
seemed to me you went for a dreadful distance
before you started back.”

“Oh, that’s two-thirds of the fun of swimming,
Mother,” said Joe. “There’s no use in puttering
around close to shore. What’s the use in knowing
how to swim, if you do that?”

“We keep pretty close together, anyway,” Bob
added. “So if one should get tired, the others
could help him in.”

“Yes, I know,” said Mrs. Atwood. “But just
the same, I wish you’d be careful.”

The boys promised that they would, and then,
feeling somewhat rested, they woke Jimmy, after
some difficulty, and went inside to rig up their
receiving set.

CHAPTER XII—THE RADIO STATION
=============================

“Just when I was having a swell nap, too,”
complained Jimmy. “Somebody’s always taking
the joy out of life.”

“Never mind about that now, Doughnuts,”
said Bob. “Just grab hold of a screw driver and
open some of these boxes. There’s nothing like
a little exercise to drive the sleep out of your
eyes.”

“You’ll find sympathy in the dictionary,
Jimmy,” said Joe heartlessly.

“Yes, and that’s about the only place I will
find it around here,” said Jimmy. “But give
me the screw driver. Somebody’s got to do all
the hard work, and I suppose I’m elected, as
usual.”

In spite of his grumbling, he worked faithfully,
and soon had the lids off a number of mysterious
looking boxes, from which the boys got out much
complicated looking apparatus. They had brought
Bob’s set, the one that had been awarded the big
prize the previous spring, and Bob handled this
lovingly.

All the radio boys worked with a will, and
the way in which the various apparently unrelated
parts became connected up into a compact and
highly efficient receiving station was surprising.
After two hours of steady work they had the set
in condition to test.

“I don’t think we’ve forgotten anything,” said
Bob, carefully going over the various connections.
“Everything looks all right to me, so here goes to
test it out.”

And sure enough, it was not long before they
heard the familiar call of the big Newark broadcasting
station and were listening to a big band
perform in stirring style.

“That sounds familiar,” said Joe, as the band
finished its selection with a flourish. “It doesn’t
seem to be any different than when we were in
Clintonia, even though we’re considerably further
away from the sending station.”

“I guess a few miles don’t make much difference
to old man Electricity,” said Herb.

“It wouldn’t make any difference to me, if I
could travel as fast as he does,” grinned Jimmy.

“You’ve got to train down a good deal before
you can do that,” remarked Herb.

“Well, I guess my chances of traveling one
hundred and eighty six thousand miles per second
are about as good as yours, anyway.” retorted
Jimmy.

“Who’s talking about traveling at such extremely
high rates of speed?” asked a voice behind
them that they all recognized. Turning,
they saw Frank Brandon, the government radio
inspector who had been of so much assistance to
them a few months before in locating the
scoundrel, Dan Cassey.

“Glad to see you. Sit down and make yourself
at home,” they chorused, and almost before
he knew it the radio inspector found himself
seated in the most comfortable chair with a set of
earphones over his head.

“You see, I haven’t lost any time coming to see
you, as I promised,” he remarked. “I spoke to
my cousin, Brandon Harvey, about you fellows,
and he said to bring you up to the big station any
time you wanted to go, and he’d show you all
around it.”

“That’s fine!” exclaimed Bob. “That’s what
we’ve all been wanting to see for a long time. I
think we’ll take your cousin at his word and land
down on him to-morrow. How about it, fellows?”

This met with the enthusiastic approval of all
the radio boys, so it was settled that they should
go to the big station early the following day,
where Frank Brandon would be waiting for them
and would introduce them to his cousin.

Accordingly, they set out the next day immediately
after breakfast. The station was
located something over a mile from the bungalow
colony, but it was a beautiful day, and the walk
seemed like nothing to the boys. The antenna
of the station covered a large tract of land, and
the station was capable of sending and receiving
messages of almost any wave length. The
station itself was a snug-looking building, ample
enough to accommodate all the apparatus, and provide
comfortable sleeping quarters for the operators
as well.

As the boys approached this building they could
see their friend, the inspector, sitting on the porch.
When he caught sight of the boys he rose and
stood waiting for them.

“You’re earlier than I expected you,” he said.
“You must have set the alarm clock away ahead.”

“No, not that. But we had a hunch that there
would be a lot to see, and we thought the earlier
we started the better it would be,” said Bob.
“Besides, we didn’t want to keep you waiting.”

“I’ve only been here a few minutes myself,” replied
Brandon. “Come inside, and I’ll introduce
you to my cousin. He’s even more of a radio fan
than I am.”

The boys followed him into a large, well-lighted
room that seemed literally packed with
electrical apparatus. Switchboards, dials and
various recording instruments lined the walls,
while in one corner stood a glittering high frequency
alternator. Seated at a table covered
with wires was a young fellow of about Brandon’s
own age, who looked enough like him to
proclaim their relationship.

At the time the radio boys entered he was receiving
some message, but as soon as he had
finished he took the headphones off and turned
to greet his visitors.

He and the boys were introduced, and their
common interest in radio work made them all feel
like old friends in a short time.

“I suppose you fellows want to see all there is
to see,” said Brandon Harvey, after they had
chatted on general subjects a few minutes. “We
have a pretty complete layout here, and I’ll be
glad to show you around and tell you all I can
about it.”

The boys were not slow to avail themselves of
this offer. The radio inspector volunteered to
substitute for his cousin while the latter was busy
with the boys, which left Mr. Harvey free to explain
the bewildering details of the plant to his
guests.

“I wouldn’t take this much trouble with everybody,”
he said. “But Frank tells me that you
fellows are so interested in the subject and have
studied it up so much that you’ll be able to understand
what I show you. Lots of people come
in here that know absolutely nothing about radiophony,
and expect me to explain the whole science
to them while they wait.”

“They’d have to wait a long while,” grinned
the irrepressible Jimmy. “I’ve just about learned
enough about it to know I don’t know anything,
if you understand what I mean.”

“I get you, all right,” returned Harvey, with a
smile. “I’ve worked at it a long time myself, but
as it is I can hardly keep up with all the new developments.
There seems to be something new
discovered every day.”

All that morning he took the boys about the
plant, showing and explaining the various instruments.
Some of these the boys were familiar
with, while others were entirely new to them.
But by dint of asking many questions, which
were answered with great patience by the wireless
man, they obtained a reasonably clear idea of
the functions of the various parts and their relations
to each other, and when they finally departed
they felt that they had learned a great deal.
Harvey even allowed them to “listen in” to messages
arriving from big ships hundreds of miles
out at sea.

“Well, we’ve had a wonderful morning and
learned a lot, but I guess we must have tired you
out, Mr. Harvey,” said Bob, as the boys were
taking their leave.

“Not a bit of it,” denied the radio man. “I’ll
be glad to see you any time you want to drop in.
Lots of times there isn’t much coming in, and it
gets pretty lonely around here.”

“You can bet we’ll be only too glad to come,”
said Bob, and the boys left with many expressions
of friendliness on both sides.

“We’re in luck to be located so near this
station and to be friends with one of the operators,”
said Joe, as the boys started homeward.

“We surely are!” agreed Bob. “I know I feel
as though I’d learned a good deal this morning,
and I guess you fellows do, too.”

“Mr. Harvey is certainly a prince,” declared
Jimmy enthusiastically. “He answers questions
without making you feel as though you were a
natural born fool for having asked them, the
way some teachers I know do.”

“Yes, we’ll have to take advantage of Mr.
Harvey’s invitation and visit him often while
we’re down here,” said Bob. “He even promised
that he’d give me lessons in sending when he had
time.”

“Good enough!” exclaimed Joe. “It’s lots of
fun receiving, but that’s only half the game.
We ought to be able to send, too.”

“If you like, we’ll study up on the code a little
this evening,” said Bob. “I brought the book
with me. We’ve already got so much from it
that we ought to be able now to finish up.”

“I agree to that,” said Joe, and so that was
settled.

“How quiet the ocean is to-day,” remarked
Herb, as they noted how little surf there was and
how lazily the waves were breaking on the beach.

“You wouldn’t think there was anything cruel
about it to look at it now,” said Jimmy. “And
yet we know that it is about the most cruel thing
in the world.”

“It’s taken millions of lives without the least
thought of mercy,” put in Bob thoughtfully.
“To-day it’s like a tiger asleep. But it’s a tiger
just the same, and when it wakes up—then look
out!”

CHAPTER XIII—EXCITING SPORTS
============================

By this time the boys were almost home, and
their pace was accelerated as they drew nearby
the sound of a musical and welcome dinner bell.
In fact, walking seemed entirely too slow under
the circumstances, and the last hundred yards
was covered in close to record time.

“I was beginning to think something dreadful
had happened to you,” said Mrs. Layton, as they
dashed panting up on the porch. “Was the wireless
station so interesting, then?”

“I should say it was!” said Bob, answering for
all of them. “We’ll tell you all about it while
we’re eating lunch.”

This was not so easy to do, however, as the
feminine portion of the family had not the interest
in wireless possessed by the boys.

“Instead of going to that old wireless station,
why don’t you boys go and catch some crabs for
us once in a while?” queried Rose, Joe’s sister.

“We’ve heard that there are lots of them in that
inlet back of the beach, and I don’t see why you
couldn’t catch some just as well as not.”

“Girls do have good ideas once in a while, don’t
they?” said Joe. “What do you say to going
crabbing this afternoon?”

“Great!” his chums exclaimed, and resolved to
start on the expedition immediately after lunch.
In anticipation of this, the grown-ups had brought
crab nets with them, so it only remained to secure
some chunks of meat as bait, and the boys were
off to the beach intent on reducing the number
of the crab population. Rose Atwood and Agnes
and Amy Fennington had been invited to go, too,
but had refused on the ground that while they
liked crabs after they were cooked, they did not
like them while they were alive.

“Don’t know that I blame them much,” said
Jimmy, commenting on this. “A crab is a mean
customer, and can give you a bad nip from those
big claws of his.”

“The idea is not to let him get close enough to
do it,” said Herb.

“I know that’s the idea, all right,” said Jimmie.
“But sometimes it doesn’t work out.”

“We don’t have to worry about that yet,”
said Bob. “Chances are we won’t see a crab all
afternoon. It usually happens that way, it seems
to me.”

But contrary to this prophecy the boys saw
many crabs. There was a wide, shallow inlet
where the ocean had worked a way in back of the
beach for a considerable distance. At high tide
the water here was several feet deep, but at low
tide it was anywhere from six inches to a foot.
Many crabs were washed in here with the tide,
and remained after the tide had gone out. They
had a way of hiding under bunches of seaweed,
and when dislodged would go scuttling away
along the sandy bottom for dear life. It looked
easy to drop the crab net over one of these
awkward creatures, but the boys soon discovered
that it was more difficult than it appeared. The
crustaceans exhibited a surprising nimbleness,
and in addition, when they were in imminent
danger of being captured, had a trick of suddenly
changing their course and darting toward their
pursuers with claws waving and giving every
evidence of being willing and able to do battle.

The boys were in their bathing suits, and as
they waded barefooted through the shallow water,
they found the sport more exciting than they had
anticipated.

“Gee!” exclaimed Jimmy, making a wild dash
for shore, after a sudden but futile sweep of his
net into the water. “That fellow was after my
toes as though he meant business. I’d about as
soon tackle a cage full of wild tigers as these man-eating
crabs.”

“Stick to it, Jimmy,” said Bob, as he deftly
scooped up a struggling crab in his net. “At the
worst you’ll only lose a leg or two.”

“Yes, and what’s that to the pleasure of having
nice fresh crabs for dinner to-night?” said Herb.
“You don’t go at it in the right spirit, Doughnuts.
Just watch—yeow! ouch!” he ended, with a yell,
and kicked out wildly with one foot, to which
a crab, a determined and stubborn crab, was clinging.

Joe, who was nearest, lashed at the clinging
crustacean with his net, and caught the creature
fairly in the middle with the iron frame. The
crab dropped back into the water, and Herbert
dashed to the safety of the beach.

“Oh, my poor foot!” he groaned. “I’ll bet
that confounded crab could pinch the propeller
off a battleship.”

“Oh, don’t mind a little thing like that,” said
Jimmy vengefully. “Just think of the nice crabs
you’ll have for dinner to-night, and it won’t hurt
any more.”

“Oh, shut up!” exclaimed Herb, for Bob and
Joe, while they were sorry for him, could not help
laughing at his woebegone appearance. “It won’t
be as much fun when one of you gets nipped.”

“I get out before they have a chance to catch
me,” said Jimmy.

“Well, you’d better get in again, and do some
catching yourself,” said Joe. “Bob and I aren’t
going to catch them for the whole bunch. Just
make a swipe at them with the net as soon as you
see them. Don’t chase along after them first, because
then they know you’re after them, and they
turn and go for you.”

Herbert was rather doubtful about venturing
back into the water. But he knew the others
would never get through chaffing him if he did
not; so, after nursing his injured foot awhile,
he ventured in. Following Joe’s advice, he
escaped further accident, and at the end of a
couple of hours the boys had enough crabs in
their baskets to supply the whole four families.

“It seems to me there must be an especially
wicked and scrappy lot of crabs in this neighborhood,”
said Bob. “Just look at them in the basket.
They’re fighting each other just as though
they enjoyed it.”

“Probably they do,” said Jimmy. “A crab is
foolish enough to like anything.”

“They remind me of Buck Looker and his
gang,” said Herb, laughing. “They’re always on
the lookout for trouble, and they usually get the
worst of it when trouble comes along.”

“Yes, but these fellows are real scrappers,
while Buck is just a big bully,” said Bob. “I
wonder if they’ve come to Ocean Point yet. I
suppose if they had, we’d have seen something
of them.”

“Oh, I suppose they’ll come pestering around
as soon as they get here,” said Joe. “But if they
do, I guess we’ll be able to take care of them.”

“We’ll do our best, anyway,” said Bob.
“They’re still sore about the way we broke into
their shack after they’d stolen Jimmy’s wireless
outfit.”

“It only served them right,” said Jimmy. “I
think we let them off pretty easily that time.
Next time we’d better rub it in a little harder.”

“Well, don’t let’s spoil a perfect day by thinking
about that crowd,” said Joe, shouldering the
basket of crabs. “I’ll carry this until my back begins
to break, and then somebody else can have
a chance at it.”

“That’s fair enough,” assented Bob, and the
boys started for home, well pleased with the result
of their expedition. There were so many
jokes bandied back and forth that Joe forgot all
about the weight of the basket, and it was only
when he threw his load down on the porch that
he remembered that none of the others had done
his share. And by that time it was of no use to
protest.

“Well!” exclaimed Rose, when she saw the
laden basket, “old Izaak Walton didn’t have anything
on you. I never had any idea that you’d
catch as many as that. To tell the truth, the
honest truth, I didn’t think you’d catch any.”

“That’s all the confidence my sister has in me,
you see,” said Joe, with a resigned air.

“They’re all alike,” said Herb. “They none of
them really appreciate what a blessing it is to have
a brother.”

“We do appreciate it once in a while,” returned
Agnes. “Especially when they work up energy
enough to go and catch some nice fat crabs. I
just dote on crab salad.”

“If you only knew how close your brother
came to losing his foot on account of those same
crabs, you’d feel sorry for him,” said Bob, with
a mischievous grin.

“Oh, do tell us about it,” said Amy. “What
happened, Herb?”

“Aw, why can’t you keep quiet about that,
Bob?” protested Herb.

But the girls were not to be put off so easily,
and had to be told the story of Herb’s defeat at
the claws, as it were, of one small crab.

“Well, I don’t care,” he said, goaded by the
laughter of the girls, “I’ll get even by eating as
many of those animals as I can, and maybe one of
them will be the one that bit me.”

“It won’t do any harm to think so,” said Bob.
“I hated to tell on you, Herb, but that story was
too good to keep.”

“All right! I’ll get even with you some day,”
threatened Herb. “It’s just your confounded
luck that you didn’t get nipped instead of me.”

“Oh, well, it’s all in the day’s fun,” said Bob.
“I’ll bet these fellows will taste so good we’ll forget
about the trouble we had while we were
catching them.”

This prophecy was fully justified that evening
when the unfortunate crabs disappeared as if by
magic.

“We’ll have to try this again some day soon,”
said Bob. “I never knew a crab could taste so
good.”

They all agreed to this, and were still discussing
the afternoon’s fun when they heard a familiar
voice on the porch, and a moment later Dr.
Amory Dale walked into the room. They all
sprang to their feet and gave him a hearty welcome.

He told them all the local news of Clintonia,
and then broached the real object of his visit.
He had conceived the idea of making up a party
consisting only of the adults and taking a tour
through the South, taking in Washington and
other of the larger Southern cities. As outlined
by him, the party was to go by rail, and return by
steamer from Norfolk, Virginia, to Boston.

“Mrs. Dale has not been well recently,” he concluded,
“and, as the doctor has ordered a change
of scene for her, I thought it would be nice to get
a small party of friends and all take the trip together.
What do you think of the proposition?”

All the adult members of the party received the
idea with approbation, although for one reason
or another some of them feared that they would
be unable to go. Their objections were argued
away by Doctor Dale, however, and before the
evening was over Mr. and Mrs. Layton, Mrs.
Plummer, and Mrs. Atwood had promised to
make the trip. Rose begged so hard to go that
finally she, too, was included. The rest of the
evening was taken up by excited discussion of
the proposed trip. Dr. Dale was urged to stay
all night, and finally, as it was getting late, he
agreed. He found time to question the boys
about their trip to the big wireless station, and
they told him enthusiastically all about it. The
evening passed so quickly that they were all surprised
to find that it was considerably past their
usual bedtime, and it was a tired but happy quartette
of lads that finally said “good-night” and left
the older people to complete the plans of their
forthcoming trip.

CHAPTER XIV—FUN IN THE SURF
===========================

The next morning the boys learned that the
tourists had decided to leave on the following
day. Mrs. Fennington, Herbert’s mother, had
decided to stay at Ocean Point and “take care of
the boys and her girls,” she said. All that day
there was great excitement and bustle of packing,
and by evening all was ready for the tourists’ departure.
Everybody went to bed early that evening,
as they intended to get the early train to
Clintonia, whence they were to go direct to Washington.

Everything went according to schedule, the
boys going down to the station with their parents
to see them off. Many were the injunctions
laid on the boys to “be careful” and “not to
swim out too far.” This was duly promised, although
the boys prudently forebore to say just
what they considered “too far.” Anything less
than a mile was all right, as they figured it.

At last the train pulled out, and after it was lost
to view around a curve the boys took their way
rather more quietly than usual back to the bungalows,
which seemed to them to wear a rather
forlorn and deserted air. But their usual good
spirits soon asserted themselves, and they began
to plan what they should do for the rest of the
day.

“It’s a swell day for a swim,” said Bob. “Let’s
jump into our bathing suits and fool the hot
weather.”

“I’ll never say no to a swim,” said Jimmy. “It
seems to me that all I do all summer is melt and
sizzle except when I can get into the ocean.
That’s about the only time I feel comfortable.”

“A swim it is, then,” said Joe. “And the last
one down to the beach gets thrown in by the
others.”

There was a mad scramble as the boys rushed
into their respective bungalows and changed from
regular clothes to bathing suits. Articles of
clothing flew in every direction, and in an incredibly
short space of time Joe emerged, followed
closely by Bob, and they set off at an easy
pace for the beach, looking backward from time
to time to see if the others were coming. Jimmy
was the next to emerge, and he started off with
head down and hands and feet flying, evidently
determined not to be the last this time.

But he had hardly started when Herbert came
bursting out of the door and made after his
corpulent friend. But Jimmy had gained quite a
lead, and it was hard to predict which would be
the last to the beach and therefore subject to a
thorough ducking at the hands of his friends.

Bob and Joe were so far in the lead that they
were in no danger, and they enjoyed the race between
Jimmy and Herb immensely.

“They say an elephant can run fast, and
Jimmy’s just like one,” said Joe. “He’s certainly
putting his heart into it. Which do you think
will win, Bob?”

“It’s hard to tell,” laughed Bob. “But if
Jimmy loses he’ll be so hot that he won’t mind being
ducked, so it will be all right anyway.”

They were all close to the beach now and Herb
was fast catching up with Jimmy, who was
making heavy weather of it in the deep sand.
Herb kept gaining. He was not three feet back
of Jimmy when suddenly the latter stumbled and
fell. Herb was so close to him that he had no
time to stop or swerve, and he tripped over his
prostrate companion and went sprawling. Like
a flash Jimmy was on his feet again, and before
Herb could recover from his fall and get started
again, Jimmy had reached the edge of the water,
where Bob and Joe were already waiting.

Herb came along a few seconds later, primed
for an argument.

“You tripped me up on purpose, Jimmy,” he
accused, when he could get his breath. “That
was nothing but a trick.”

“You bet it was a trick, and a mighty good one,
too,” said Jimmy. “It saved me a ducking, anyway.
You’d better get ready to take your
medicine.”

“Jimmy’s right,” ruled Bob. “Come on, fellows.”

With one accord the other three rushed on the
unfortunate Herb, cutting short his vehement
protests. Seizing him by the hands and feet, they
lugged him out until the water was three feet or
so deep, and then, swinging him back and forth a
few times like a pendulum, they threw him with
a resounding splash into the crest of an incoming
breaker.

Herb struggled to the surface in a few seconds,
puffing and sputtering.

“Aw, I don’t care!” he shouted. “I was going
in anyway, so you just saved me the trouble of
walking in. So long! I’m going to swim to
Boston!”

But he did not get very far on this extended
journey, for the surf was so high that day that
the boys were content to spend their time diving
into the big combers and letting themselves be
carried shoreward by the big waves. After they
had had enough of this, they went up on the
beach and played ball with a cork surf ball that
Bob had brought with him.

“This beats digging away in school, by a long
sight,” said Jimmy. “Next winter when we’re
working away like real good boys, we can think
of this and wish we were back here.”

“Not on your life!” said Joe. “This place is
very nifty now, but there’s nothing more cold
looking than a beach in winter.”

“Oh, well, you know what I mean, you big
prune,” said Jimmy. “We’ll wish it were summer
and we were back here. It’s just as easy to
wish for two things as it is for one.”

“Who’s a big prune?” demanded Joe. “Did
you hear that insult, Bob? What shall I do to
him?”

“Make him lie down in the sand and roll over,”
replied Bob, grinning. “You can’t let him call
you a prune, even if you are one.”

“That’s what I’ll make him do,” said Joe,
ignoring this last thrust, and he went after
Jimmy.

But that individual did not wait his coming,
but meekly lay down on the sand and rolled over
in most approved fashion.

“Want me to do it again?” he asked Joe.
“Anything to make you happy, you know.”

“Once is enough,” said Joe. “That means
that you’re sorry and apologize, you know.”

“Like fun it does!” said Jimmy. “I just did
that because it was less trouble than throwing
you into the drink, and, besides, I was afraid of
hurting you.”

“Oh, I see,” said Joe. “But don’t let that
stop you, Doughnuts. I’ll take a chance of
getting hurt.”

“No, I guess I’ll stay here,” said Jimmy,
gazing placidly up at the blue sky. “Please
don’t bother me any more. Make him stop
bothering me, Bob.”

Joe picked up a double handful of heavy wet
sand and dropped it squarely on Jimmy’s rotund
body.

“Let’s see you make me stop, Bob,” he called,
as Jimmy emitted an outraged howl.

Bob was not slow to accept the challenge, and
made a flying leap for Joe. The sand flew as they
wrestled back and forth, each one striving to
throw the other. Finally both went down with
a thud, and Bob managed to land on top. Laughing,
the two friends scrambled to their feet and
dug the sand out of their eyes and ears.

“Thanks, Bob,” said Jimmy. “You landed
on him almost as hard as that sand landed on me,
so we’re quits. Before anything else happens to
me, I’m going home and get something to eat, so
as to have strength to stand it. You fellows may
not know it’s pretty near dinner time, but I do.”

Thus reminded, all the boys suddenly discovered
that they were hungry, and they started for home,
after taking one more dip to wash the sand off.

“Do you know,” said Bob, as they started off,
“Mr. Harvey told me the other day that we could
borrow his motor boat any time we wanted it and
he wasn’t going to use it? What do you say if
we try and get it to-morrow and take a little
cruise?”

This proposal met with instant favor, and that
evening the boys planned to leave immediately
after breakfast the next morning and try to
borrow the motor boat from their new friend at
the radio station.

CHAPTER XV—SKIMMING THE WAVES
=============================

The next morning dawned without a cloud in
the sky, and the boys were so anxious to get
started that they could hardly take breakfast.
Crisp brown bacon and fried eggs are not to be
lightly ignored, however, and they managed to eat
a pretty hearty meal, starting on their expedition
immediately afterward.

“We couldn’t have picked out a better day if
we’d planned for a week ahead of time,” observed
Joe. “If we can only get that boat now, everything
will be fine and dandy.”

“I think we’ll be able to get it, all right,” said
Bob. “The only thing that can stop us is the
chance that Mr. Harvey will want to use it himself,
and even then, likely enough, he’d take us
along.”

“Well, there’s no use worrying about it till
we get there,” said Jimmy philosophically.
“Even if we can’t get it, I guess we’ll be able
to survive the shock.”

But when they arrived at the big station they
found their misgivings had been groundless. Mr.
Harvey seemed very glad to see them, and when
they asked him about the motor boat he told
them to “go as far as they liked.”

“I’m pretty busy here these days, and don’t
have much time to use it myself,” said the radio
man. “You boys will be welcome to the use of
it to-day, or any other time. It seems a shame
for it to be lying idle a day like this.”

“Well, if you’ll show us where you keep it,
we’ll see that it gets a little exercise,” said Bob.

“Sure thing,” said the wireless man. “Come
along.”

He led the boys a short distance from the
station to a narrow inlet that ran back from the
ocean. At the head of this inlet was a snug little
boathouse which Brandon Harvey unlocked.

“There she is,” he said, a note of pride in his;
voice. “What do you think of her?”

“She’s a little beauty!” exclaimed Bob.
“That’s a mighty nifty boat, Mr. Harvey.”

The others were equally unqualified in their
praise, because the boat was a beautiful model,
twenty-five feet long, with a snug little hunting
cabin built up forward. It had a sturdy four
cylinder engine, and everything looked to be in
perfect order.

Mr. Harvey was evidently pleased by their appreciation
of his pet, and pointed out some of the
boat’s good qualities.

“She’s as staunch as they make ’em,” he said.
“She’s a mighty seaworthy and dependable little
craft. I think you’ll find plenty of gasoline in
the tank, so you won’t have to worry about anything.
I only wish I could go with you.”

“I wish you could,” said Bob. “But we’ll
take the best of care of it, and we’ll be back before
dark. We’ll not go far, anyway.”

“Well, enjoy yourselves,” said Brandon Harvey.
“Can you get the engine started all right?”

For answer Bob gave the flywheel a twirl, and
the engine started upon the first revolution. Joe
took the wheel, while Bob acted as engineer.
They backed carefully out of the boathouse, and
then shifted into forward speed and proceeded
slowly down the creek toward the bay, the engine
throttled down until one could almost count the
explosions, and yet running sweetly and steadily,
without a miss.

“Say, this engine is a bird!” said Bob enthusiastically.
“Just make out I wouldn’t like to own
a boat like this!”

“Who wouldn’t?” asked Joe. “It’s about the
neatest boat of its size I ever saw. I’ll bet it
can go some if you want it to, too.”

“We’ll, you know Mr. Harvey told us it could
make twenty-five miles an hour, and that’s fast
enough to beat anything but a racer,” said Herb.

By this time they had reached the mouth of the
creek, and the whole expanse of the big bay
opened out in front of them. There was just
enough breeze to ruffle the surface of the water,
upon which the sun played in a million points of
flashing light. The cool, exhilarating salt wind
filled their lungs, and they shouted and sang with
the pure joy of living.

“A life on the ocean wave, a home on the rolling
deep!” chanted Jimmy. “Whoever wrote
that song knew what he was talking about.”

“He’d probably never have written it if he had
known you were going to sing it,” said Joe.

“You mind your own business and steer the
boat,” retorted Jimmy. “I’ve got lots of courage
to sing at all with you steering us. You’ll likely
run us onto a rock or a sandbar before we fairly
get started.”

“Leave that to me,” said Joe. “The nearest
sandbar is about half a mile away now—straight
down.”

“Well, that isn’t any too far for safety when
you’re the pilot,” said Jimmy. “Anyway, I’m
going up on top of that cabin and have a sun bath.
Please don’t wreck us until I have a chance to rest
up a little, will you? It looks like a long swim
to shore.”

“Go ahead then, you blooming landlubber,”
grinned Joe. “Leave the running of the ship to a
real salty old mariner like me.”

With a grunt that might mean anything, Jimmy
clambered up on the low cabin, and in a few
minutes, lulled by the gentle motion of the boat,
was sound asleep. Herb propped himself comfortably
against the side of the cabin and gazed
dreamily out over the bright expanse of the bay.
Bob opened the throttle a little, and the boat
picked up speed, her sharp bows cutting through
the water in fine style, with a slow rise and fall
as they went further from shore and began to
feel the ocean swell. White clouds flecked the
deep blue sky, and sea gulls wheeled and soared
overhead, calling to one another and ever and
anon swooping swiftly downward to seize some
unfortunate fish that had ventured too near the
surface.

The splash and gurgle of the water alongside
was beginning to make the boys feel drowsy when
they suddenly noticed another boat ahead of them.
This craft was holding a course diagonal to
their own, so that the two boats were drawing
slowly together, although at present they were
perhaps a mile apart.

“There are some other people out enjoying
themselves,” said Bob. “Wonder if they’re anybody
we know.”

“We’ll soon be close enough to tell,” said Joe.
“By Jimmy!” he exclaimed, a few moments later.
“I believe we do know ’em, Bob, worse luck.
Don’t you recognize that big fellow that’s steering?”

Bob shaded his eyes with his hand and gazed
steadily for a few seconds.

“Buck Looker!” he exclaimed finally. “And
if I’m not much mistaken, his whole gang is with
him.”

“Yes, I can see Carl Lutz and that little beast,
Terry Mooney,” said Joe. “And I guess they’ve
recognized us, too. See how they’re pointing in
this direction?”

The motor boats were drawing closer together,
and their occupants could now see each other
plainly. Looker and his friends were in a freakish
looking craft. It looked as though it might
have been a speed boat once, but now wore a
shabby and dilapidated air.

CHAPTER XVI—A THANKLESS RESCUE
==============================

The two motor boats by now had drawn close
together and were holding parallel courses.

“Hey, you fellows!” yelled Buck Looker. “I
suppose you think you’ve got a fine, fancy boat
there, don’t you?”

“That’s just about what we think, all right,”
called back Bob. “It looks it, doesn’t it?”

“Looks ain’t much,” said Buck.

“The looks of that tub of yours aren’t, anyway,”
said Herb sarcastically. “A few gallons
of paint would make it look more like a real
boat.”

“Oh, is that so?” said Buck, with a sneer.
“Well, let me tell you, this is a fast boat. We
can make circles around that thing you’ve got
there.”

“Open her up, Buck, and run away from
them,” urged Lutz. “Show them what speed
looks like.”

“We’ll have to admit you fellows are good at
running away,” commented Joe. “But this time
it may not be as easy as you think.”

“We’ll show you!” squeaked Terry Mooney.
“Open ’er up, Buck.”

His amiable friend did “open ’er up,” and, with
a terrific noise from the exhaust and a cloud of
smoke, their boat darted ahead.

But Bob opened the throttle of the *Sea Bird* a
little, and their boat surged forward, apparently
without an effort, until they were again abreast
of the Looker coterie.

“What’s the matter, Buck?” queried Joe, with
mock solicitude. “Won’t it go any faster to-day?”

Both boats were hitting a pretty speedy clip, and
this question seemed to infuriate Buck.

“You bet it can go faster!” he yelled. “Pump
some more oil into that engine, Carl.”

His friend did as directed, and Buck juggled
the spark and throttle controls until his craft
attained a speed that would have been sufficient
to have left the average cruising motor boat far
in the rear. But the *Sea Bird* was built both for
long distance cruising and for speed, and the
faster Buck’s craft went, the faster went the
Harvey craft.

Straight out to sea the boats headed, diving
into the rollers and throwing showers of spray
over their occupants. Crouching low in the
engine cock-pit, Bob nursed the motor lovingly,
an oil can in one hand and a bunch of greasy
waste in the other. He was mottled with oil and
grease, and the perspiration trickled down his face
in little rivulets, but he had never been happier
in his life. The engine was running like clockwork,
and he knew there was plenty of power
and speed in reserve if he needed them.

Buck, on the other hand, was fussing and fuming
over his engine, trying to make it go a little
faster. But it was working up to its limit, and
do what he would, he could not coax an extra
revolution out of it.

Joe, who was steering the *Sea Bird*, looked back
at Bob, a question in his eyes. He yelled something
that Bob could not hear above the whistle
of the wind and the throb of the engine, but he
knew what Joe meant, and nodded his head.

The time had come to show Looker and his
friends what speed really was. Bob opened the
throttle to the limit. The engine responded instantly,
and the *Sea Bird* leapt forward, gathering
more speed every second. Leaping from wave to
wave, it seemed to be trying to live up to its name,
and actually fly. Buck Looker’s craft dropped
away as though standing still, and there was soon
a long strip of swirling white water between the
two boats.

All four radio boys laughed and shouted
exultantly, and Jimmy and Herb pounded each
other madly on the back in the excess of their
joy.

“This is some little through express!” screamed
Jimmy into his companion’s ear. “Can’t she hit
it up, though?”

But now Buck Looker and his friends were
quite a way astern, and Bob was forced to slow
down, as they were plunging into the waves at a
dangerous speed. One big wave swept over the
boat and left them dripping, and for the first time
they realized how high the seas were running.
They were now well outside the bay, and a stiff
southwest wind had arisen and was kicking up a
nasty chop. Bob slowed down to half speed,
after which they took the big seas more easily,
but they all judged it was high time to start back.
In the excitement of the race they had gone much
further than they had intended, and Joe made
haste to swing the bow around and head back for
quieter waters.

“I wonder how Buck is making out,” shouted
Bob to Joe. “Can you see them yet?”

“Yes, I can see them. But they seem to be
having trouble of some sort,” replied Joe.
“They’re rolling around in the trough of the
waves, and I can only see them when they come
up on top of one.”

“If they’re in trouble, I suppose we’ll have to
help them out,” said Bob, and as there could be
no question about this, the radio boys directed
their course toward their erstwhile competitors.

Buck and his cronies were indeed in a bad
plight, for their engine had stalled and they were
unable to get it going again. This left them at
the mercy of the waves, as they had not even an
oar aboard. Their boat had not been designed
for rough weather, and now it rolled dangerously
broadside on to the waves, threatening at any
moment to capsize.

As the radio boys approached the helpless craft
Terry and Carl stopped long enough in their
frantic bailing to shout wildly for help. Buck
was still tinkering with the engine, but without
result. Their boat was drifting out to sea, and
altogether they were in a sorry plight.

Joe approached the helpless craft cautiously,
while Bob throttled the engine down until they
had only steerage way.

“You’ll have to jump for it!” yelled Joe.
“We’ll come as close as we can, and then you can
jump aboard.”

Terry Mooney was the first to make ready to
jump. He gave a wild leap, but fell short, and
would have fallen into the ocean, had not Herb
and Jimmy grasped him as he fell and dragged
him aboard. Buck and Carl had better luck, and
landed safely on the deck of the *Sea Bird*.
They left their craft none too soon, for one of
its seams had started to leak, and it was rapidly
filling with water. At first the radio boys
thought they might be able to tow the disabled
craft in with them, but it soon became apparent
that it would not stay afloat long enough for this.
It settled lower and lower, and even as the *Sea
Bird* picked up speed for the run home the unfortunate
craft dived under as an unusually large
wave broke over it, filling it with water.

“We got you off just in the nick of time,” said
Bob. “If we hadn’t been around, it looks as
though you would have had a long swim home.”

“Oh, somebody else would have picked us up
if you hadn’t,” said Buck ungraciously. “This
boat isn’t the only one at Ocean Point, you know.”

“It seems to be the only one around just now,”
said Joe, which was true enough. There was no
other craft in sight, and it would have fared ill
with Buck Looker and his cronies had the radio
boys not been at hand to aid them.

However, gratitude was not to be expected of
such boys as Buck and his friends. They drew
off sullenly to the stern of the *Sea Bird*, and as
for the radio boys, they wasted no more breath
on them. They headed directly for the mouth
of the little creek leading to the wireless station,
and as they came within the sheltering headlands
of the bay the sea became less rough and gradually
lessened in violence as they entered more
shallow waters.

As they went out that morning, the radio boys
had taken special note of conspicuous landmarks,
so that they had little difficulty in locating the
inlet. Bob throttled the engine down to a low
speed, and they were soon creeping up the quiet
waters of the creek that were in striking contrast
to the turbulent seas outside.

Mr. Harvey had left the doors of the boathouse
open, so the boys nosed the *Sea Bird* carefully
into its berth, Herb and Jimmy standing by
with fenders to keep it from bumping against the
timbers and taking off paint.

Bob had hardly shut off the engine before Buck
Looker and Terry and Lutz, without a word of
thanks or even saying good-bye, leaped ashore and
made off.

“Oh, well, it’s good riddance,” said Jimmy
cheerfully. “I’m sure we don’t want them hanging
around.”

“I suppose they felt sore about losing their
boat,” said Bob. “But they could hardly blame
us for that. It was they who proposed to race.”

“And they got all the race they wanted,” said
Joe. “Isn’t this boat a little peacherino, though?”

“It’s a wonder,” said Bob. “I’d almost be
willing to undertake a trip to Europe in it. I’ll
bet she’d make it all right.”
The others agreed with him in this estimate of
the *Sea Bird’s* prowess, and they discussed her
many virtues as they cleaned up the decks and
made everything neat and shipshape. This accomplished,
they proceeded to the wireless station,
where they met their friend just coming off duty.

“Well, how did you enjoy yourselves?” he
questioned. “Did the boat act up all right?”

“I should say she did!” said Bob, and gave him
a brief account of the day’s happenings.

“Shucks!” exclaimed Harvey, when he had finished.
“Those boys must be poison mean not to
have even thanked you for picking them up. I
didn’t think anybody could be quite that ungrateful.”

“You haven’t had the experience with them that
we have,” said Bob. “But we enjoyed the trip
immensely, anyway, and certainly want to thank
you for lending us your boat.”

“Oh, that’s all right,” said Harvey heartily.
“Any time you want it again, just say so. When
are you coming to visit me at the station again?”

“Why, we’ve been meaning to get there for
several days past,” said Bob. “If you’re going
to be there to-morrow, we can drop in then. How
about it, fellows?” turning to his friends.

“Sure thing,” said they all, and so it was
agreed. Mr. Harvey had been walking with them
in the direction of the bungalow colony while the
foregoing conversation took place, but now his
path branched off from theirs, and he said good-night
after reminding them of their promise to
visit him the following day.

The boys continued on home, discussing the
events of the day. They arrived just a little before
the evening meal was served, and they fell
on the repast like a pack of young wolves, as they
had taken no lunch with them, not expecting to be
out so late.

“My goodness!” exclaimed Mrs. Fennington,
when they had at last finished. “I’m glad you
boys don’t go motor boating every day. You’d
soon eat us out of house and home if you did.”

“If we owned the *Sea Bird*, Mother, we
wouldn’t need any home,” said Herb. “We’d
live aboard, wouldn’t we, fellows?”

The others laughingly agreed to this.

“There’s a dandy concert on to-night,” remarked
Jimmy. “I saw the program in the newspaper.
Some colored singers from a college down
South.”

“Suits me,” returned Joe, and a little later all
the boys and a number of the others were listening
in. The musical numbers were well rendered,
and they listened with delight.

“Hark!” cried Bob, when they were waiting
for another announcement by wireless. “There
goes a regular code message. Wish we could
read it.”

“I can make out some of it,” answered Joe.
“W—I—K—no, I guess that was L. Maybe it
was WILL. Might be ‘will arrive,’ or something
like that,“ and he sighed. “Gee, if we only could
get onto it!”

“We will some day,” answered Bob.

“You bet!”

CHAPTER XVII—AN OCEAN BUCKBOARD
===============================

One morning soon after their arrival at Ocean
Point the boys went down to the beach equipped
with a novelty that they had often heard about,
but had never seen until the night before.

It had been Jimmy’s birthday, and his father
had made and sent him a gayly decorated surfboard
to celebrate the occasion. When he first
saw it Jimmy was at a loss to know what kind of
strange present he had received, but when he
showed it to the other radio boys, Bob quickly
told him what it was for.

“I saw a moving picture once that showed the
beach at Tampa,” said Bob. “It looked as though
almost everybody had one of those surfboards,
as they are called.”

“Yes, but what do you do with the thing?
That’s what I want to know,” complained Jimmy.
“It looks like something that would be fine for
scaring the birds away from the garden, but,
aside from that, I can’t think of much use for it.”

“Why, you just flop down on it against the
crest of a surf wave, and the wave does the rest,”
explained Bob. “At least, that’s the way it
looked in the pictures. The wave carries you and
the surfboard along in front of it, and believe
me, you travel some, too.”

“Well, that listens all right,” said Jimmy
dubiously. “But since you know all about it,
it’s up to you to try it out, Bob.”

“Surest thing you know, I’ll try it out,” returned
Bob. “I suppose we’ll get plenty of duckings
while we’re learning how, but we’ll be out
for a swim, anyway, so what’s the difference?”

On the morning following they sallied out
bright and early, eager to experiment with this
latest means of amusement.

“I only hope there’s a good surf running,” said
Bob. “I suppose now that we want it to be a
little rough, the sea will be as smooth as a
mill pond.”

“Well, I hope not,” said Jimmy. “I’ve never
seen a mill pond myself, but according to all the
dope they must be about the stillest things that
ever happened. I wonder if there is such a
thing as a rough mill pond. If there is, I’d be
willing to go a long way to see it.”

“Oh, there are lots of things like that,” said
Herb, laughing. “For instance, whoever saw an
aspen leaf that didn’t quiver?”

“Yes, or a terrier that didn’t shake a rat,” said
Joe.

“Or a pirate that didn’t swagger,” said Jimmy.

“Or even a pancake that wasn’t flat,” added
Bob.

“Good night!” laughed Herb. “What have I
started here, anyway? We’ll all be candidates
for the lunatic asylum if we keep this up very
long.”

“Oh, well, after being around with you so long,
we’d feel right at home,” said Jimmy sarcastically.

“I haven’t any doubt *you’d* feel at home, all
right,” retorted Herb. “I’ll bet you’d feel at
home right away.”

“You bet I would,” said Jimmy. “All I’d have
to do would be to tell them some of your bum
jokes, and they’d elect me a charter member
right off the bat.”

“I think Jimmy would show up even better as
a member of the Pie-eater’s Union,” said Joe.
“He has such a special gift in that direction that
he’d soon be champion of the whole outfit.”

“Well, it’s something to be a champion of anything
in these days of competition in sports,” said
Jimmy. “But here we are, Bob, and here’s *your*
chance to demonstrate how to become a champion
surfboard artist.”

“All right, I’m game,” said Bob. “Hand over
that instrument of torture, and I’ll be the goat
and give you fellows a good chance to laugh at
me.”

The surfboard was about the shape and size of
a small ironing board, although much lighter.
Equipped with this device, Bob waded into the
surf, holding the surfboard over his head until
he got into water as deep as his shoulders. There
was a fairly high surf running, in spite of his
pessimistic prophecy to the contrary. Bob
waited until an unusually high breaker came curling
in, and then launched himself and the surfboard
against the green wall of water.

More by good luck than anything else he caught
it at the right angle, and went whirling toward the
shore at breath-taking speed. For perhaps a hundred
feet he held his position, but then tilted to
one side, and in a moment he and the surfboard
disappeared in a smother of foam and spray.
Tumbled over and over, he finally got to his feet,
after the force of the wave had spent itself, and
waded into shore, puffing and blowing.

“I got a good start, anyway,” he panted. “I
guess it takes practice to keep your balance and
come all the way in, but it’s a great sensation.
I’m going to try it again.” Suiting the action to
the word, Bob waded valiantly in again. After
several attempts he finally caught a big wave
just right, and by frantic balancing rode all the
way in to shallow water.
“There you are!” exclaimed Bob triumphantly.
“Say, when we once get on to this, it ought to
be barrels of fun. Who’s going to be the next
one to try it?”

“I’ll take a whirl at it,” said Joe. “It looked
easy enough the way you rode in the last time.”

“Sure it’s easy,” grinned Bob, shaking the
water out of his ears. “Go to it, Joe. I’ll stand
by to rescue you if you need it.”

Joe made several attempts, and received some
rough handling from some big breakers before he
finally contrived to make a fairly successful trip.

“Wow!” he exclaimed, scrambling to shore
and throwing the surfboard at Jimmy. “It’s fun
if you have luck, but I thought I was going to
drink the whole Atlantic Ocean once or twice.
You try it, Jimmy. It’s your board, anyway.”

“Yes, I know it’s my board,” said Jimmy.
“Don’t you want to try it next, Herb?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t think of using it before you,”
said Herb. “I want to have the fun of seeing you
get drowned before me, Doughnuts.”

“Well, I suppose I shouldn’t refuse to give you
that pleasure, so here goes,” returned Jimmy, and
he waded manfully into the surf, the board poised
above his head.

He made a lunge at the first big breaker that
came along, but instead of planting the board at
an angle, he slapped it against the wave in a vertical
position, and the next second he was underneath
the board and was being ignominiously
rolled and tumbled along the sandy bottom.
When the wave finally left him, he staggered to
his feet and found the treacherous surfboard
floating within a yard of him.

His companions, seeing him safe, laughed heartily
at his woebegone and bedraggled appearance.

“It’s great sport, isn’t it, Jimmy?” chaffed Bob.

“Sure it is, when you do it right,” sputtered
Jimmy. “I’m going to try it again, if it kills me,”
and he seized the recalcitrant surfboard and
waded doggedly out again. This time his persistence
met with a better reward, for, warned
by his previous experience, he placed the board
flatter this time, and rode in almost to shore
before getting upset.

“That’s enough for a starter,” he gasped.
“There certainly is plenty of excitement to it. Go ahead
and try it, Herb, with my blessing.”

Herb did not seem any too anxious to follow
his friend’s bidding, but nevertheless he took
the board, and after several attempts got the hang
of it well enough to get enthusiastic over it.

“It’s simply great when you get started right!”
he exclaimed. “We’ll each have to get one, and
we’ll have more sport than a little with them.”

For the rest of the morning the boys took turns
with the contrivance, and by the time they stopped
to go home for lunch had gotten quite expert.
That afternoon they got their tools, and by evening
had fashioned three duplicates of Jimmy’s
board. On following days they used them to good
effect, and before they left Ocean Point that summer
they were all adepts at this new form of
sport.

CHAPTER XVIII—IN THE WIRELESS ROOM
==================================

“SAY, Bob,” said Joe, as the four radio boys
were walking briskly in the direction of the wireless
station the following morning, “we must get
Mr. Harvey to give us lessons in sending. That
must be half the fun of radiophony, and we might
as well do all there is to do. What do you say?”

“I think you’re dead right,” said Bob heartily.
“We’ll speak to him about it to-day, and I guess
he’ll show us how all right. In fact, he offered to
do that very thing the first time we were there, if
you remember.”

“I know he did,” said Joe. “And I’m going
to remind him of it as soon as I get a chance.”

The chance was not long in coming, for that
was one of the first things Mr. Harvey spoke of
after their arrival at the station.

“You fellows ought to practice up on receiving
and sending,” he said. “You can’t really claim
to be full-fledged radio fans until you can do
that.”

“That’s just what we were speaking of on our
way here,” said Bob. “If it wouldn’t be asking
too much of you, we’d like nothing better than
to have you show us how.”

“Well, of course, it doesn’t take very long to
learn the international code, and after that it’s
chiefly a matter of practice,” said the radio man.
“I have a practice sending set here now, and if
you like I’ll give you your first lesson.”

The boys were only too glad to take advantage
of this friendly offer. Harvey had a simple telegraph
key, connected up to a buzzer and a couple
of dry cells. The buzzer was tuned to give a
sound very much like an actual buzz in an ear-phone.
In addition he had a metal plate on which
all the letters of the alphabet were represented by
raised surfaces, a short surface for a dot, and a
long one for a dash. The low spaces in between
were insulated with enamel. In this way, if one
wire was attached to the brass plate and the other
brushed over the raised contact surfaces, each letter
would be reproduced in the buzzer with the
proper dots and dashes.

The boys found this device a big help, as they
could memorize the proper dots and dashes for
each letter, and then by moving the wire along
the plate could hear the letter in the buzzer just as
it should sound.

“But with this thing, it seems to me you don’t
need to take the trouble to memorize the code,”
said Herb. “Why, I could send a message with it
right now.”

“You could, but it would be a mighty slow
one,” replied Brandon Harvey. “That thing is
useful to a beginner, but it wouldn’t work out
very well for actual sending. It’s too clumsy.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s so,” admitted Herb.

“You fellows can take that along with you
when you go,” said the radio man. “You can
dope out the code from that, but you’ll need a
key to practice with, too. If you like, I’ll lend
you this whole practice set until you get a chance
to buy one yourselves.”

“You bet we’ll take it, and many thanks!” exclaimed
Bob. “We should have brought something
of the kind down with us, but we didn’t, so
your set will be just the thing for us.”

“It’s been some time since I’ve had any use for
it,” said Harvey. “But I came across it the other
day, and it occurred to me that maybe you fellows
could use it, as you told me the first time you were
here that you intended to take up sending.”

“It was mighty nice of you to think of us,”
said Joe, his face beaming.

“Oh, well, we radio fans have to stick together,”
returned Harvey, with a smile. “There’s
some extra head sets lying around here somewhere,
and, if you like, you can listen in on some
of the messages coming in. Things were pretty
lively just before you fellows came in.”

The boys lost no time in taking advantage of
this offer, and were soon absorbed in listening
to the reports of shipping, weather conditions, and
occasional snatches of conversation that came
drifting in over the antenna. Harvey’s pencil
was busy as he jotted down reports and memoranda.
The boys felt that they were in intimate
touch with the whole wide world, and the
morning flew by so fast that they were all astonished
when Harvey announced that it was lunch
time.

“Say, but you certainly have an interesting job,
Mr. Harvey,” said Bob. “I only wish I were a
regular radio man, too.”

“So do I,” said Joe. “It’s about the most fascinating
work I can think of.”

“You might not like it so much if you were
doing it every day,” said Brandon Harvey. “But
it’s a big field, and getting bigger every day, so
maybe a few years from now you may join the
brotherhood. If you ever do, why, all the experience
you’re getting now will come in mighty
handy.”

“Yes, but I know something else that might
come in pretty handy, too,” put in Jimmy, “and
that’s a little lunch. I think we’d better make
tracks toward home mighty soon.”

“Nothing doing!” protested Harvey. “You’re
going to stay here and have lunch with me. I
can’t give you much, but it will probably enable
you to totter along until this evening, anyway.”

The boys protested against putting the radio
man to so much trouble, but he would not take
no for an answer, so they allowed themselves to
be persuaded, gladly enough, in truth.

It did not take the radio man long to prepare
a simple but nourishing meal, all the cooking
being done on an electric stove he had rigged up
himself. While they ate they talked, and Brandon
Harvey told them something about himself.
It seemed that he had formerly been an accountant,
having taken up radio as a hobby at first, but
then, finding himself deeply interested in it, had
resolved to make it his life work.

“I still do a little at my old trade, though,”
Harvey told them. “I’m treasurer of the Ocean
Point Building and Loan Association, and that
sometimes keeps me pretty busy in the evenings
after I’m off duty here.”

“I should think it would,” commented Bob.
“What do you have to do, anyway?”

“Oh, I keep the books straightened out, and
occasionally I make collections of cash,” answered
Harvey. “I’ll probably get knocked on the head
sometime when I’m carrying the money around
with me. I always feel rather uneasy when I
have any large sum about, there seem to be so
many holdups these days.”

“Have you a good safe place here to keep the
money?” asked Joe.

“Yes, fairly safe,” responded Harvey. “I put
it in the Company’s safe here, and I don’t suppose
anybody would bother about it. But just
the same, I don’t leave it here unless I simply
haven’t had time to deposit it in the bank.”

The talk drifted into other channels, and the
boys thought little more of what he had told them
at that time. After lunch they practiced sending
with the buzzer set, and got so that they could
recognize some of the letters when they were sent
very slowly.

“Huh,” said Jimmy, elated at his success in
making out two letters in succession, “I’ll be sending
and receiving thirty words a minute in a little
while.”

“How little?” grinned Bob.

“Just about a hundred years or so,” put in
Herb, before Jimmy could answer.

“Hundred nothing!” said Jimmy indignantly.
“Don’t think because it will take you that long that
I’ll be just as slow. I’m going to show you some
speed.”

“Go on!” chaffed Herb. “Who ever heard of
anybody as fat as you showing speed? You don’t
know what that word means.”

“Just the same, I haven’t seen you read *any*
words yet,” retorted Jimmy. “About the only one
you know is E, and that’s because it’s only one
dot.”

“Well, I’ll know the whole blamed thing pretty
soon,” said Herb. “You see if I don’t.”

“I’ve no doubt you’ll all be experts in a little
while,” laughed Harvey. “‘Practice makes perfect’
in that as in most other things.”

The boys remained at the big station until late
in the afternoon, and then, with many thanks to
their friend for his assistance, they started back
home.

“Mr. Harvey is one of the finest men I’ve ever
met,” said Bob, as they walked briskly along.
“He and his cousin are a good deal alike. They
both know a lot, and they’re both willing to help
other people understand the things they’re interested
in.”

“Yes, we couldn’t have made a better friend,”
said Joe. “I only hope we have the chance to do
something for him some day. I feel as though
I’d learned a lot about radio just since we came
to Ocean Point.”

Jimmy and Herb warmly indorsed this statement,
and had the radio man been able to hear
them, he would probably have felt fully repaid
for his efforts in their behalf.

He, for his part, felt indebted to the boys.
Their eager enthusiasm had stirred him deeply,
and their laughter and good fellowship had come
like a fresh breeze into the routine of his daily
life. He was still young enough himself to feel
in perfect touch with them, and he welcomed their
coming and regretted their departure.

He sat for some time musing, with a smile on
his lips after they had left him. Then the conversation
he had with them about the money he
held in trust recurred to him, and he stepped over
to the safe, took out the funds and counted them.

He gave a whistle of surprise when he realized
how much had accumulated.

“Too much to have on hand at one time,” he
said to himself, as he closed the safe. “I must
get that over to the bank!”

CHAPTER XIX—DANCING TO RADIO
============================

“That talk with Mr. Harvey has certainly
made me ambitious,” remarked Bob that evening,
as the boys were tinkering with their radio
set.

“Who was that poet who said:

   | ‘I charge thee, fling away ambition,
   | ’Twas through ambition that the angels fell,’

quoted Joe.

“Pretty good dope, too, if you ask me,” said
Jimmy.

“I might have expected that that would hit you
pretty hard,” replied Bob, with what was meant
to be withering sarcasm, though Jimmy did not
“bat an eyelash.” “But it doesn’t apply to me at
all. In the first place, I’m not an angel——”

“How you surprise us,” murmured Herb.

“So that what happened to angels needn’t necessarily
happen to me,” continued Bob.

“I prithee, gentle stranger, in what direction
doth thy ambition lead?” asked Herb, at the same
time looking around at the others and tapping his
forehead significantly.

“In the direction of that loop aerial that we
were talking about before we left Clintonia,”
answered Bob. “You know Mr. Brandon said it
was good, and you remember what he told us
about the way the British used it to trap the
German fleet. That’s been running in my head
ever since. What do you say to rigging one up
and seeing just what it will do? If we find it
better than our present aerial, we’ll use it altogether.”

“Well, I’m ready to try anything once,” chimed
in Joe.

“I suppose here’s where Jimmy gets busy in
making a frame for it?” suggested Jimmy, in an
aggrieved tone.

“Likely enough,” replied Bob heartlessly.
“You need a little work to get some of that fat
off of you, anyway. But after you get the frame
and the pivot made——”

“Oh, yes, the pivot, too!” said Jimmy. “All
right, go ahead. Be sure you don’t overlook
anything.”

“The rest of us will pitch in and wind the
wire,” finished Bob.

Jimmy heaved a long sigh, and to revive his
drooping spirits, produced a pound box of assorted
chocolates that an aunt in Clintonia had
sent him.

But Jimmy chose an unfortunate moment to
exhibit these delicacies, for at that moment Herb’s
sisters, Amy and Agnes, entered the room and
immediately espied the box of tempting confections.

“Oh, isn’t that nice!” exclaimed Agnes. “Did
you bring these just for Amy and me, Jimmy?”

“Well—er—not exactly,” stammered Jimmy.
“I was figuring that we’d all have a hack at them,
I guess.”

“But I thought boys didn’t care for chocolate
creams,” said Agnes. “They’re just for girls,
aren’t they?”

Jimmy fidgeted uncomfortably, but before he
could think of anything to say, Herb came to his
rescue.

“You’d better act nicely or you won’t get any,”
he said with true brotherly frankness. “If you’re
real good we may let you have one or two,
though, just as a special favor.”

“I thought those candies belonged to Jimmy,”
said Amy quickly. “I don’t see what you’ve got
to say about them, anyway, Herbert darling.”

“I guess we’d better compromise,” suggested
Bob, laughing. “Suppose we set them on the
center table, and then we can all help ourselves.
That’s fair enough, isn’t it?”

“Yes it is not!” exclaimed Herb. “The girls’ll
eat them all while we boys are fooling with the
radio. But I suppose we might as well let them
have the things that way as any other. They’ll
get them some way, you can bet on that.”

“You’re just mad because you can’t have them
all yourself,” said Agnes serenely, as she nibbled
at a chocolate. “You boys go ahead with your
radio. We’ll take care of the candies.”

“What did I tell you?” said Herb disdainfully.
“That’s about all girls think of anyway—eating
candy.”

“Oh, go on,” said Amy. “We don’t like them
a bit better than you boys do, only you won’t
admit it.”

“They couldn’t like them much better than
Jimmy does, that’s a fact,” said Joe.

“Aw, forget it,” said Jimmy. “We’re all in the
same boat when it comes to that. Let’s get busy
with the radio.”

The candy incident was soon forgotten in the
interest of the concert they heard that evening.
There was an unusually fine program, one of the
features of which was a lecture on radiophony.
The boys listened attentively to this, and got some
valuable information in regard to the latest developments
of the science. After this was over
there were a number of band and orchestral selections.
The girls listened to these, too, and
when they were over, Agnes made a suggestion.

“Since your set works so well, why couldn’t we
give a dance?” she asked. “You can always find
a station that is sending out dance music, can’t
you?”

“Say, that’s a pretty good idea!” exclaimed
Bob. “There are plenty of other young people
in the bungalows around here, and I don’t think
we’d have any trouble in getting a good crowd.”

“Fine and dandy!” exclaimed Joe. “By that
time we may have our loop aerial finished, and
it will be a good chance to try it out.”

“Suits me all right, provided I can work the
set and don’t have to dance,” stipulated Jimmy.
“If I try to dance these hot nights, I’ll just melt
away like a snowball in front of the fire.”

“Maybe when some of the pretty girls around
here come in you’ll change your mind,” said
Agnes.

“Well, we ought to have lots of fun, anyway,”
said Bob. “We’ll leave it to the girls to give the
invitations, and we’ll guarantee to furnish all the
music you want. We’ll make Ocean Point sit
up and take notice.”

“You’ve got to ask some of the younger girls,
too, and not just your own set,” put in Herb
quickly, for his sisters were both older than he
was by a few years.

“Oh, of course,” promised Agnes. “This will
be a free for all.”

The rest of the evening they spent in making
plans for the forthcoming party, and the next
morning the boys set to work like beavers on the
loop aerial. They hardly paused for meals, and
before the day was over they had it completely
made and set up. The girls, as well as the boys,
were greatly interested in the first test, and they
all waited breathlessly for the sounds that should
issue from the throat of the horn. It was not
long before the boys picked up a concert that
was going on in Boston, and the effect was startling.
After they had tuned out all interferences
the music came in sweet and full and in such
volume that they even had to tone it down a
little. Mrs. Fennington, seated on the porch,
could hear everything distinctly, and applauded
each number.

The evening of the party arrived in due course,
and the guests all arrived early, many of them
curious and somewhat sceptical about hearing
dance music by radio. Agnes and Amy had told
them about the loud-speaking apparatus, and they
were all prepared for something novel.

But it is safe to say that few of them were
prepared for as pleasant an evening as this one
turned out to be. Receiving conditions had never
been better, and the boys had no trouble in picking
up fox trots, waltzes, or any other style of dance
music. Between the dances they got some more
serious music that happened to be “in the air”
from some other station than that sending out the
dance music, and their entire apparatus worked
like a charm all through the evening.

The radio boys did not spend all their time over
the radio set, either. They found plenty of opportunity
to dance and laugh with the many pretty
girls who had been invited, and everybody concerned
enjoyed the evening hugely. Mrs. Fennington
had provided plenty of ice-cream, cake,
and lemonade, articles which did not lack appreciation
among the youthful company.

When the party finally broke up all who had
been present expressed themselves as having had
a wonderful evening.

“I think we just had a perfectly spiffy time,”
said Agnes, somewhat slangily but with undoubted
feeling. “I think I’ll be as crazy about
radio as you boys are, pretty soon.”

“It’s about time,” commented Herb. “You
never cared so much about it before, but now
that you can dance to it, you think it’s fine.”

“Well, she’s right,” said Amy, coming to the
defense of her sister. “What is there that’s better
than dancing?”

“Oh, the world’s full of better things,” declared
Herb. “But there’s no use my trying to
tell you what they are, I suppose.”

“You can’t tell ’em anything,” chuckled Jimmy.
“They won’t believe you if you do.”

“If we believed all the fairy stories Herb has
told us, we’d have to be pretty silly,” said Agnes.

“Well, you’re both pretty, anyway,” said Joe
gallantly.

“Thank you,” said Agnes. “That’s more than
Herb would say in a hundred years.”

“I heard him saying that to one of the girls he
was dancing with this evening,” said Bob slyly.
“How about it, Herb?”

“Aw, you didn’t anything of the kind,” declared
Herb, but he betrayed himself by blushing
furiously.

“Poor old Herb,” said Joe. “He must be
pretty hard hit. What do you think, Bob?”

“Looks that way to me,” answered Bob. “He
sounded as though he meant it, anyway.”

“Well, so I did,” said Herb. “If she hadn’t
been pretty, I shouldn’t have been dancing with
her.”

“Gracious! how my young brother hates himself,”
exclaimed Agnes.

“How can I hate myself, when all the girls
fall for me so?” asked Herb brazenly.

“Oh, you’re a hopeless kid,” said Agnes, laughing.
“Come, Amy, I’m going to bed,” and the
two girls said good-night and left the room.

“I guess it’s about time we all turned in,” said
Bob. “We’ve had a mighty fine evening, though,
and I’m proud of the way our outfit showed up.”

The others felt the same way. They were just
about to disperse when Mrs. Fennington entered
the room.

“This evening has been so successful,” she said,
“that I was wondering if we couldn’t give a concert
in aid of the new sanitarium that is being
built here. They are greatly in need of money
to carry the project on, and I’m sure you would
be doing a wonderful thing if you could help it
along.”

The boys were for the project at once, and said
so.

“But do you think people will pay to hear a
radio concert?” asked Herbert.

“Of course they will!” exclaimed his mother.
“They pay to hear every other kind of a concert,
don’t they? And when they know it is to aid
the new sanitarium they will be all the more
anxious to come.”

“I’m sure we’ll do our share,” said Bob. “We’ll
be glad to give the concert, and if people shouldn’t
come to it, that wouldn’t be our fault.”

“That will be excellent then,” said Mrs. Fennington.
“I’ll speak to some of the other ladies
about it, and we’ll set a date and make all the
arrangements.”

“That plan of mother’s reminds me of something
I was reading about the other day,” said
Herb, after Mrs. Fennington had left the room.
“It was in connection with that drive they were
making for the disabled war veterans. Do you
remember the ‘flying parson’ that won the transcontinental
air race a couple of years ago? Well,
he has a radio attached to his airplane and he arranged
to have an opera singer give a concert over
it. She sat in the plane and sang, and her voice
was heard over a radius of five hundred miles.
Then the parson gave a short, red-hot talk in
behalf of the soldiers, and thousands of people
heard about the drive that wouldn’t have known
of it otherwise. They say that money poured into
headquarters by mail during the next few days.”

“Good stuff!” exclaimed Bob. “Our work
will be on a smaller scale, but the spirit will be
there just the same, and I bet our old radio will
rake in a heap of coin for the sanitarium.”

CHAPTER XX—THE RADIO CONCERT
============================

“When do we give the concert, Herb?” asked
Bob at breakfast the next morning.

“Mother isn’t quite sure yet,” replied Herb to
Bob’s question. “Not until she consults with
some of the others, anyway. But she thinks that
a week from to-night will be all right. Guess
one night’s the same as another as far as we are
concerned.”

As a matter of fact, the projected concert was
scheduled several days sooner than Herb had
predicted, being set for the ensuing Saturday
night, so as to get as many of the week-end visitors
as possible. Tickets to the affair sold well,
and from the first it became evident that there
would be a large attendance. People were only
too glad to come, both for the sake of hearing
good music and to know that they were contributing
to a worthy charity. The boys, as the volume
of sales increased, realized that it was up to them
to see that the visitors should have the worth of
their money and they went over the set with a
“fine-tooth comb,” to use Herb’s expression, in
order to make sure that every part of it was in
fine working order.

“We’ll have to test everything out pretty thoroughly,”
remarked Bob, that Saturday morning.
“We’d never hear the last of it if anything went
wrong to-night.”

“You bet!” said Joe. “We’ve got to have
everything in apple-pie order.”

The audience began to arrive early. A large
space had been roped off in front of the central
bungalow and furnished with rows of campchairs.
The boys had set up the loud-speaking horn on a
small table on the porch, running leads from it to
their apparatus in the living room. This enabled
them to operate the set out of sight of the audience.

By eight o’clock almost everybody was in his
place, waiting expectantly, and in some cases
somewhat sceptically, for the music to begin.

But they had not long to wait. Inside the
bungalow the boys, excited and tense, heard the
familiar voice of the announcer at WJZ, the big
Newark broadcasting station. While he was
speaking the boys had the horn outside disconnected,
but with their head phones they tuned
until the announcer’s voice was distinct and clear
and all other sounds had been tuned out. Then,
as the announcer ceased speaking, and in the brief
pause that ensued before the first selection on the
program started, the boys connected in the loud-speaker
on the porch.

The concert commenced. Violin solos, vocal
selections, and orchestral numbers followed each
other in quick succession, every note and shade
of tone being reproduced faithfully by the radio
boys’ set.

The audience sat in absorbed silence, listening
spellbound to this miracle of modern science. At
intervals they could not resist applauding, although
the artists producing the music were many
miles away. When the concert was over at last
there was a regular storm of handclapping and
calls for the boys, who at length had to appear on
the porch, looking, it must be confessed, as though
they would rather have been almost anywhere
else.

Cries of “Speech! Speech!” came from the
audience, and at last Bob stepped forward.

“We’re mighty glad if all you folks enjoyed
the concert,” he said. “We boys are all very
much interested in radio, and we want to have
everybody know what it is like. Maybe before
the sanitarium gets finished you’ll have to listen
to another concert,” he added, with a grin.

Cries of “we hope so” and “make it soon” came
from the audience, which then dispersed with
many expressions of commendation for the evening’s
entertainment.

When the receipts for the evening were counted
it was found that they had taken in over four
hundred dollars, which was soon turned over to
the trustees of the sanitarium.

The concert was the chief topic of conversation
in the neighborhood for the next few days, and
the radio boys were deluged with requests for
information concerning radio and radio equipment.
They were somewhat surprised at the
furor caused by their concert, but that was probably
the first time that most of those present had
ever heard radio music or had reason to give
more than passing thought to the subject.

But the boys had other interests in addition to
radiophony to absorb their attention. At last
word had come that the tourists had started home,
and the boys were excited at the thought of soon
seeing their parents and Rose again. They had
written that they would come from Norfolk to
Boston on the steamer *Horolusa*, a combination
freight and passenger ship.

“Say!” exclaimed Bob, when he read this,
“wouldn’t it be great if they’d send us a wireless
message from their ship when they pass Ocean
Point on the way to Boston?”

“You bet it would,” said Joe. “Do you suppose
they’ll think of it?”

“They’ll probably be passing here some time
to-morrow,” said Jimmy; “so it will be up to us
to keep close to the radio outfit in case they do
send a message. Probably they’ll never think of
it, though.”

“I hope they have good weather for the trip,”
said Bob. “It doesn’t look very favorable just
now.”

“It doesn’t, for a fact,” agreed Joe. “It’s been
cloudy and muggy for the last two days, and it’s
worse than ever to-day. But it probably won’t
amount to anything. There isn’t apt to be a bad
storm at this time of year.”

But the weather failed to justify Joe’s optimism.
As the day wore on the cloudiness increased,
and toward evening a breeze sprang up
that kept freshening until it had attained the proportions
of a gale. All that night it blew with increasing
violence, and the next day, when the boys
went down to look at the ocean, they were
alarmed at the size and fury of the surf. Toward
evening their anxiety increased, as no word
had come from the *Horolusa*, although they had
spent the afternoon at their radio set. They
overheard messages of distress from other vessels,
however, and knew that the storm was creating
havoc along the coast. Night came on early,
with the gale still blowing with unabated fury,
and after supper Bob proposed that they go to
the big radio station and see if there was any
news there of the *Horolusa*.

“That will be fine,” said Jimmy. “If they
haven’t received any news of the ship there, we
can be pretty sure that she is all right, because
they would have been sure to get any distress
message if it had been sent out.”

The boys made a hasty end of their meal, and
then started through the storm and darkness for
the wireless station. It was raining in torrents
that were driven before the gale and penetrated
the thickest clothing. The only light the boys had
came from an occasional jagged flash of lightning,
and they kept to the path more by instinct than
knowledge of its direction. But, with heads
lowered to the storm, they plodded doggedly on,
their minds filled with forebodings of disaster to
their loved ones. The terrible roar of the
breakers on the beach made them shudder with
dread.

Suddenly a tremendous flash of lightning split
the sky, and in the fraction of a second that the
vivid glare endured they saw a man coming toward
them whom Bob and Joe recognized at once.
It was Dan Cassey, the scoundrel who had tried
to cheat Nellie Berwick in the matter of the
mortgage on her home.

More from instinct than anything else, the
radio boys sought to block the man’s path,
guessing that he was probably on some evil errand
and remembering the warning that Miss
Berwick had given them. Cassey struck out at
random, and one lucky blow caught Joe unawares
and knocked him down. The other boys sprang
at Cassey, but in the darkness he managed to
elude them and took to his heels.

It was hopeless to attempt to find the rascal in
the pitch blackness, and after running a few steps
the boys realized this and returned to help their
comrade.

The latter had gotten to his feet and was
fuming with anger, and it was all that his friends
could do to dissuade him from rushing off
through the darkness in quest of his assailant.

“But he was headed for the village probably,”
expostulated Joe. “We’ll probably find him
there if we get there before he has time to light
out.”

“Maybe. But it’s more important just now
to get to the wireless station and find out if there’s
any news of the *Horolusa*,” said Bob. “If we
find out that she’s all right, we can get after Cassey
later.”

“That’s good dope,” said Jimmy. “The sight
of that rascal has made me feel more scared than
ever for the folks. He’s a hoodoo, a raven, a
sign of bad luck. I’m not superstitious, but
meeting him has given me the creeps.”

The boys resumed their interrupted journey,
and before long could see the lights of the radio
station shining through the rain.

“Now, if we can only find out that the steamer
is safe!” sighed Bob.

“If we only do!” came from Joe. “It would
be terrible if anything went wrong in this awful
storm.”

The boys increased their pace, and were soon
mounting the steps of the porch. To their surprise,
the door was wide open, and almost by instinct
they felt that something was wrong.
Their suspicions were confirmed the next moment,
for as they entered the house the first object they
saw was their friend, Brandon Harvey, stretched
unconscious on the floor with blood trickling from
a wound on his head. The little safe of which
he had spoken the last time the boys were there
stood wide open, and the cash drawer lay empty
on the floor.

CHAPTER XXI—A DASTARDLY ATTACK
==============================

With horror-struck faces the radio boys
hastened to examine and aid their friend.

“He isn’t dead,” said Bob, as he felt the
wounded man’s heart beat. “Somebody’s given
him a terrible blow, though. Let’s lift him over
to that couch, and I’ll get him a drink of water
and see if we can’t bring him around.”

This was quickly done, and the boys chafed his
wrists and did everything they could think of to
restore him to consciousness. At last their efforts
were rewarded, for Brandon Harvey’s eyelids
flickered, and a spot of color came into his
cheeks. As his eyes opened recognition came
into them, and he made a feeble effort to rise, but
sank back on the couch with a groan.

“Who hit you?” asked Bob. “Do you remember
what happened?”

“I was at the table, taking a message,” panted
Harvey, in a voice little above a whisper. “I remember
hearing a footstep behind me, but before
I could turn around somebody struck me on
the head, and I knew nothing more until I came
to and found you boys here. Is the safe all
right?” he exclaimed suddenly, as a terrible
thought crossed his mind.

“I’m afraid that whoever hit you robbed the
safe, too,” replied Bob. “It’s empty now, anyway.
The door of it was open when we came
in.”

“Good Heaven!” exclaimed Harvey, and would
have leaped to his feet had the boys not restrained
him. “Why, there was over three thousand
dollars in that safe! I had been meaning to go
to the bank, but the weather was so bad that I let
it slide. I can’t imagine who the thief could have
been.”

The same thought occurred to all the boys at
once, and was voiced by Bob.

“I’ll bet any money I know who the thief was!”
he exclaimed. “It must have been that low-down
crook, Dan Cassey. He was hurrying
away from here when he bumped into us,
fellows.”

“That’s about the size of it!” Joe ejaculated.
“And to think that we let him get away from us!”

“Dan Cassey?” queried the wireless man.
“Why, that’s the same man my cousin was telling
me about; the one you fellows had trouble with
last spring. Are you sure this was the same
one?”

“No doubt of it,” declared Bob. “We had a
scrimmage with him not half an hour ago, but in
the darkness he managed to get away from us.
If we had had any idea that he had attacked and
robbed you this way, though, we’d have gone after
him.”

“But we can’t be sure that he was the thief,
anyway,” said Brandon Harvey. “How did you
boys happen to be coming here?”

“Before we talk any more I’m going to fix your
head up,” said Bob. “You’ve had a pretty bad
crack there, and you’d better stay as quiet as you
can. After I’ve fixed you up, I’ll tell you what
we came for.”

The wireless station was equipped with a complete
medical outfit. Bob sponged the ugly looking
gash, then applied iodine and bandaged the
wound as well as he could.

“There!” he exclaimed. “That isn’t very
fancy, but it’s a whole lot better than nothing.
How do you feel now?”

“Pretty much all in,” Harvey confessed, essaying
a smile. “I don’t mind the rap on the
head as much as I do the loss of the money. I’ll
have to make it good, and that will take some
while out of a wireless operator’s pay.”

“Don’t worry about that money,” said Joe.
“It isn’t as though you didn’t know who took it.
There isn’t a doubt in any of our minds but
Cassey is the guilty party. If we can locate him,
we’ll either make him give it back or else wish he
had.”

“Well, I only hope so,” said Harvey doubtfully.
“But you haven’t told me yet what lucky
accident brought you to my assistance.”

“Why, we wanted to find out if there was any
news of the *Horolusa*, the steamer that our folks
are coming home on,” explained Bob. “We’ve
been listening at our set all the afternoon for word
from her, but haven’t heard anything. We
thought that perhaps you had caught something
that got past us.”

“No, I haven’t heard a thing from that particular
ship,” said Harvey, shaking his head. “There
are plenty of others, though, having a hard time
of it. This is the worst storm on record for this
time of year. I don’t remember—ah! there’s a
distress signal now. I’ll have to answer it,”
and he attempted to get to his feet, but fell back
on the couch with a face as white as chalk.

The boys looked at each other in dismay, for
while they had been practicing sending and receiving
in the international code, they hardly felt
competent to take an important message like this.
But after a second’s hesitation, Bob jumped to
the big table.

“I’ve got to try, anyhow,” he muttered, grimly.
He snatched the head phones and fastened them
over his ears. At first he was so excited that he
could make nothing of the jumble of buzzings in
the receiver that sounded like a gigantic swarm
of hornets. But in a few seconds he began to
catch words here and there, and, seizing a pencil,
he began feverishly jotting them down.

  “Steamer *Horolusa*,” he wrote. “Have struck
  derelict—sinking—help—quick—are about five
  miles—Barnegat shoals.”

Bob reached for the sending key, while the
other boys, their faces white, read the message
that he had just written down.

Outside the wind roared and howled, the rain
dashed against the windows in sheets, and, although
they were quite a way from the beach,
the boys could hear above everything else the
angry roar of the breakers. They could envision
the ill-fated vessel fighting a losing battle with the
elements, and their hearts stood still as they
thought of the terrible peril in which their dear
ones stood.

Bob manipulated the sending key slowly and
no doubt made more than one mistake, but nevertheless
succeeded in making himself understood
by the operator on board the *Horolusa*.

    “Message received at Station YS,” he sent.
    “Will relay to all ships. How are things with
    you now?”

    “Lifeboats smashed as soon as put overboard,”
    came back the answer. “Only chance is to be
    picked up by other vessel. For God’s sake, do
    your best.”

“They’re in a pretty bad fix,” said Bob, turning
a tragic face to his friends, “I’ll relay the
S. O. S. call, and probably we’ll reach ships that
the *Horolusa’s* wireless couldn’t, as this station is
so much more powerful. While I’m doing that,
why don’t you fellows call up the life saving
station at Barnegat, and tell them to be on the
lookout.”

“That’s a good idea!” exclaimed Joe, and he
rushed for the telephone, while Bob sent out the
call for help for the *Horolusa*.

“Central must be asleep!” exclaimed Joe impatiently.
“I can’t get any answer at all to this
blamed thing,” and he worked the hook up and
down, but to no effect.

Meanwhile Bob had had better success with his
instrument, and had got into communication with
two ships that promised to go immediately to the
aid of the *Horolusa*. They were both only a few
miles from that unfortunate vessel, so when at
last Bob left the key, the load of anxiety that had
lain so heavily on his heart was considerably
lightened.

“What’s the matter, Joe?” he inquired of his
friend, who was still making frantic but ineffectual
efforts to get into communication with
the life saving station. “Can’t you get any answer?”

“Not a word, worse luck!” exclaimed Joe.
“I guess the wires must have been blown down
by the storm.”

“Yes, or they might have been cut by the thief
before he attacked Mr. Harvey,” suggested Herb,
struck by a sudden thought.

“I’ll bet that’s just what’s the trouble!” exclaimed
Joe. “I’m going outside and investigate.”

He caught up a flashlight that was lying on the
table, and dashed outside, followed by the others.
Sure enough, the telephone wires had been cut a
few feet above the ground. Evidently the thief
had planned everything carefully.

“Good night!” ejaculated Joe disgustedly.
“No wonder I couldn’t get any answer. And all
the time I was blaming the poor operator for being
asleep.”

When the boys went inside again they found
Brandon Harvey sitting up, and he declared that
he felt a good deal better.

“I’ll be as good as ever in a little while,” he
declared. “I guess I was in the land of dreams
for a little while, though. What’s been going on
while I was down and out?”

The boys told him about the message from the
*Horolusa* and about the telephone wires being
cut.

“Well, I guess you’ve done about all that can
be done,” he remarked, after they had finished.
“Chances are those two vessels you spoke will
stand by the *Horolusa* and take the passengers off
in case it becomes certain that she’s going to
founder. But I think I’m strong enough to push
a key down now, if you’ll help me over to the
table.”

This was soon done, and while the wireless
man was still somewhat shaky, he nevertheless
stated that he had recovered enough to carry on
the duties of the station.

“You fellows don’t need to worry about me,”
he said. “I’ll hold down the station all right, if
you want to go after this Cassey. You might be
able to catch him before he leaves the town, because
he didn’t leave here in time to catch the last
train out, and I doubt if he’d be able to hire an
automobile on a night like this. It would be
worth an attempt, anyway.”

“It doesn’t seem right to leave you here alone,”
said Bob doubtfully. “But I suppose you know
best how you feel.”

“We’ll hook up the telephone before we go,
and get a message through to the life saving
station,” said Joe.

The radio boys set about this task without loss
of time. They soon had the instrument working
again, and this time had no difficulty in getting a
connection with the life saving station. The life
savers reported that there was no vessel near the
shoals at that time, but promised to keep a vigilant
lookout.

“Well,” said Bob, when this had been accomplished,
“I suppose there isn’t much more that
we can do around here, so let’s get after Cassey.
We’ll have to flash a lot of speed if we’re going
to stand any chance of catching him.”

“I guess we can do that, all right,” said Joe.
“Let’s go,” and with that the boys were off on
the trail of the thief.

CHAPTER XXII—IN THE GRIP OF THE STORM
=====================================

The *Horolusa* had left Norfolk with the sun
shining, but after she had steamed a day on her
way to Boston the weather changed, the sun becoming
obscured by heavy clouds and the air
growing sultry and heavy. The passengers took
little note of this, except in a casual way, but the
ships’ officers wore a somewhat worried look as
they went about their duties, for the barometer
had been falling steadily all the morning and had
now reached a low point that forecasted trouble,
and that in the near future. The sea was calm,
with a long, oily heave that soon sent a number of
the passengers to the seclusion of their staterooms.

Dr. Dale and his party were fairly good sailors,
however, and they stayed in a corner of the deck
that they had preëmpted, and discussed the various
happenings during the trip. Everybody had
had an enjoyable time, and they could look back
and think of a dozen pleasant incidents that had
made the tour one to be remembered in after
years.

“I think it was nothing short of an inspiration
that led you to propose this trip, Doctor Dale,”
said Mrs. Layton. “I anticipated a good time,
but I never imagined that it could be half so enjoyable
as it has turned out to be.”

“It has indeed been a memorable one,” agreed
the doctor. “In fact, it has been so very successful
that I think we should take others from
time to time. The change is good for all of us,
too. Mrs. Dale claims to feel infinitely better
than when we started, and I am sure we can all
say the same thing.”

“Yes, indeed,” agreed Mrs. Plummer. “I hope
the weather will continue as perfect as it has been
so far, although it doesn’t look very promising
just at present.”

“It has clouded over rather rapidly,” said the
doctor, surveying the gloomy sky. “But I hardly
imagine it will amount to anything. It is very
unlikely that we shall have a storm at this time of
year, you know.”

Even as he spoke a sharp puff of wind blew
across the decks, whistled in the rigging, and died
away. A few minutes later another gust came,
this time a little stronger, and before they fairly
realized it, a brisk breeze was blowing. Meanwhile,
the cloudiness had deepened, and the sea
was beginning to rise. Under the lowering sky
the ocean turned a dull gray color, flecked by
little white caps as the breeze continually freshened.

By the time the dinner gong sounded, the little
party was glad to go below decks out of the
wind, which had a raw edge to it. The boat was
now rolling and pitching considerably, and there
was a comparatively scanty gathering around
the long tables. Conversation was rather limited,
and immediately after dinner the ladies of the
party retired to their staterooms.

Dr. Dale and Mr. Layton went up on deck
again, and they were astonished at the change
which had taken place even in the short time they
had been below.

The wind had risen to a gale, and was driving
before it big rolling seas crested with foam.
The vessel plowed into these, at times plunging
her bows completely under and sending a flood
of green water back over her decks as she rose
and shook herself free of the weight of water.
Life lines had been rigged about the decks, and
without these it would have been almost impossible
to get about at all. The doctor and Mr.
Layton and a few other men sought the lee of a
deck house, where they gazed out over the wild
waste of waters with astonishment not unmixed
with alarm. Still, they knew that their ship was
a staunch one and that they had little to fear unless
some unforeseen accident took place.

All that afternoon the ship wallowed and
plunged through the angry seas, her speed reduced
until she had only enough to keep her head
into the wind. At times the stern would rise
high in the air, until the propeller was lifted clear
of the water, whereupon the engines would race
madly for a few seconds before the stern went
down and the propeller bit into the water once
more. Everything moveable about the decks had
been lashed down, or it would have been over
the side long ago.

Darkness came early over the tossing waste of
waters, and the men retired to the snug smoking
room, where they discussed the storm in a desultory
manner.

Those who felt so inclined had just risen to go
to the dining room for supper when they were
thrown back into their chairs by a shock that
caused the vessel to shiver from stem to stern.
It seemed to hesitate and stand still for a moment,
and then started on again as though nothing had
happened. Excited voices and footsteps were
heard all over the ship, and those in the smoking
room gazed at one another in consternation.

A few minutes later the engines stopped, and as
her steerage-way slackened the great vessel fell
into the trough of the waves, where she rolled
and wallowed in a helpless manner.

“We’d better go and look after the ladies,”
said Dr. Dale. “I’m afraid something serious
has happened.”

Dr. Dale and Mr. Layton made their way with
all possible speed to the staterooms occupied by
the ladies, whom they found grouped together in
the corridor anxiously awaiting their arrival.

Meanwhile events were moving quickly on the
ship’s bridge and in her wireless room. The
*Horolusa* had struck a derelict, floating awash
with the surface of the sea, and a big rent had been
torn in her bows. The ship’s officers realized at
once the serious nature of the accident. The
pumps were set going and the wireless man was
instructed to send a call for assistance. For what
seemed an age he repeated the S. O. S. call without
receiving any answer, but at last his receiver
buzzed, and he listened eagerly for the
answer. But at once a puzzled look came over
his face, and he turned to his fellow wireless
man.

“Whoever’s answering our message gives the
call of the Ocean Point station, and yet it can’t
be either of the regular radio men there,” he said.
“This message is being sent by an amateur, I’ll
swear to that.”

“Sounds that way,” the other agreed, after
listening to the head set a moment. “But you
can tell by the strength of the signals that it can’t
be just an amateur station. Possibly the regular
operator is away or sick, and some amateur has
taken his place.”

“Well, he says he will relay our call, anyway,”
said the other. “Amateur or not, he seems to be
on the job and doing the best he can for us. And
Heaven knows we need all the help we can get,
because we’re in a bad way.”

The *Horolusa* was indeed in sore straits. Her
bow had settled low in the water and the big
waves broke over it continually. The crew had
made several attempts to launch the lifeboats,
but the vessel was rolling so badly that they
were smashed to splinters against her sides before
they could reach the water. The wind howled
wildly around the superstructure and in the
rigging, and it was also raining heavily, soaking
the shivering passengers to the skin as they stood
huddled about the decks. Life preservers had
been handed about and nearly everybody wore
one of these.

High up in the wireless cabin the two operators
could hear the call for help flashing out loud and
clear from the powerful land station as it was repeated
over and over by the unknown sender
there. Little did Bob’s father and mother suspect
that their son was aware of their peril and was
trying desperately to save their lives and those
of the hundreds of other passengers on the big
ship.

At last, after what seemed an interminable time
to the anxious wireless men, they heard an answering
call from some ship laboring through the
black and stormy night, and a little while later
they heard still another ship promise to go to
their assistance.

“Glory be!” they exclaimed, in unison. “I
hope they’re not far away,” said one. “I’m
afraid the old *Horolusa* has taken her last voyage.
If the forward bulkhead gives way, she’ll
go down like a shot.”

“They can’t make much speed in a sea like this,
either,” said the other anxiously. “But I see
the YS station has stopped sending. I guess he
must have heard those boats promise to come to
our help. And they sure can’t get here a bit too
soon.”

The *Horolusa* was indeed in a desperate condition.
Below decks the engineer force was
laboring mightily to brace the forward bulkhead
so that it would stand against the tremendous
pressure of the water without. The bulkhead
was sagging inward, and even as the men labored
they could see flakes of paint come off the iron
as it bent inward. It took the highest kind of
courage to work in the face of such peril, because
they knew if the bulkhead once gave way they
would be drowned under tons of water without
any chance whatever to escape. They braced
big timbers against the frail wall that meant the
only barrier between them and instant death.

“I guess that’s about all we can do, men,” said
the chief engineer at length. “I’ll call for a few
volunteers to stay below and keep the pumps
running, and the rest of you had better get up
on deck. She’s likely to go at any minute.”

A few hardy souls volunteered, and the rest
swarmed up the long iron ladders, thankful to
get away from the awful menace of that bulging
bulkhead. Arrived on deck, they found conditions
there little better than those they had just
left below. Several of the lifeboats had been
wrecked by big seas, and the remainder had been
stove in when the crew attempted to lower them
down the side.

Dr. Dale’s little party kept together, and they
all did the best they could to encourage each
other. The passengers had been informed that
two vessels were coming to their assistance, but
even to the inexperienced eye of a landsman it
was evident that the *Horolusa* was settling
steadily lower in the water. Big seas broke constantly
over her bows and encroached further and
further up the sloping decks as the passengers
were driven steadily toward the stern. The ship’s
officers passed about the decks, keeping order and
doing the best they could to reassure the passengers.
The captain had ordered rockets sent
off from the bridge, and these soared aloft at
intervals and cast a momentary light over the
wild and endless succession of mountainous
waves that seemed like a victorious army
marching on a helpless city.

Dr. Dale offered up an earnest prayer for
their safe deliverance from this terrible peril,
in which all those within hearing joined; and
it seemed indeed as though nothing short of
divine interposition could save them from a
watery grave.

The clank of the pumps resounded through
the ship and sounded to the passengers like the
knell of doom. The crew worked in relays, and
as fast as one shift had toiled to the verge of exhaustion
another group took their places. They
worked with the energy of desperation, for they
knew that they were fighting for their own lives
as well as for those of the passengers.

In the meantime the engineers were risking
their lives a dozen times over in trying to patch up
the rent in the damaged bow of the boat. Some
of them had been lowered over the side by means
of ropes, and the sea dashed over them constantly
as they sought to cover the rent with heavy canvas.
If this could be done successfully it would
keep out the bulk of the water, and the pumps
might be able to keep the vessel going until the
promised help arrived.

That help seemed an endless time in coming, but
at length the captain’s night glasses caught sight
of a point of light upon the waves. It came
nearer and nearer until it became evident that a
ship was bearing down upon them. A great
rocket soared into the air in answer to those sent
up by the *Horolusa*, and in the light from it could
be seen the outline of a large steamer that
changed its course and swept around until it was
parallel with the *Horolusa* and yet at a sufficient
distance to prevent the vessels being driven into
each other.

The roar of the storm prevented any call being
heard from one captain to the other, but down in
the wireless room the operators were busy and a
plan of action was agreed upon. By this time
the patch of sail had been fastened over the hole
in the bow of the *Horolusa*, and she had ceased
to settle in the water. With the sea shut out from
the bow, the pumps speedily cleared out the water
that was already in the hold of the ship and she
was perceptibly rising in the water. If the patch
held, the vessel might still be saved, or at least
kept afloat until the sea calmed down, when permanent
repairs could be made.

As the fate of the *Horolusa’s* lifeboats had
proved that it was impossible for small boats
to live in such a sea, it was arranged that the
*Falcon* as the rescuing vessel was named, would
stand by until morning or until the storm abated,
and then either take the *Horolusa’s* passengers
aboard or try to help the vessel itself into port.

Two hours later the lights of another vessel
loomed above the horizon and the steamer
*Esperanto* came hurrying to help. She too offered
to stand by and give every assistance in her
power.

The relief of the passengers of the *Horolusa*,
who for hours had been gazing into the very eyes
of death, were beyond the power of words to
express. When Dr. Dale, who had visited the
wireless room, came back to report that the
S. O. S. message that had brought the two vessels
to their aid had been relayed from Ocean Point
the wonder of those from Clintonia broke out in
exclamations.

“And a curious thing,” the doctor added, “is
that the operators feel sure that the call was sent
by amateurs. There was something about it—something
halting, uncertain—that made them
sure it didn’t come from a professional. Perhaps—who
knows?—it may have been Bob or
Joe whose message saved the ship!”

“If we are really saved,” came with a shudder
from Mrs. Layton. “If only the storm were
over!”

“And we were safe on land,” added Mrs.
Plummer.

She had scarcely spoken when the steamer gave
a mighty heave and they heard the rush of water
over her bow.

“We’re sinking! We’re sinking!” came a
scream from one frightened passenger.

“Not yet,” added another quickly. “But it
looks mighty bad.”

CHAPTER XXIII—FROM THE JAWS OF DEATH
====================================

It was in a tumult of excitement that the radio
boys started out to run down Dan Cassey, who
they felt sure was the rascal who had assaulted
Brandon Harvey and robbed the safe. They
were, too, in a frenzy of apprehension about
the fate of their parents and friends out on the
stormy sea.

Still they had been relieved to some extent by
the assurances that vessels were hastening over
the wild wastes of water to the help of the imperiled
ship and by the knowledge that all had
been done that could be done under the circumstances.
It seemed to them that it was now
clearly their duty to assist in the running down
of a criminal who had made such a dastardly attack
upon one of their best friends.

Their task was made the harder by the blackness
of the night and the fury of the storm. The
gale had risen in violence until it had reached
nearly a hundred miles an hour. It buffeted
them about, and at times turned them completely
around. Fortunately the sand was sodden with
rain, otherwise the boys would have been choked
and blinded by the flying particles.

But the rain that helped them in this respect
hindered them in another, for it drenched their
clothes and made them cling close to their skins
so that rapid progress was made almost impossible.

“Never mind, fellows,” Bob shouted. “The
same things that are bothering us are bothering
Cassey too. But there’s no use in our all sticking
close together. Let’s spread out like a fan,
and if one of us doesn’t come across him, another
may. The first fellow that catches sight of him
can let out a shout and we’ll all close in. Come
ahead now, fellows. Speed’s the word.”

They set out with redoubled determination and
made their way the best they could against the
fury of the elements. The din created by the
roaring of the gale and the thunderous beating of
the surf upon the beach was beyond description.
It was like the roar of a dozen Niagaras, and
fairly deafened the boys as they plowed along
with heads down against the storm. And if it
was as terrible as this on land, where at least
they were safe, what must it be on the howling
waste where was tossing at this moment the
crippled ship that held their loved ones.

In the mind of each was that same vision—that
ship a mere speck on the mighty waters, as
helpless as a bird with a broken wing, utterly at
the mercy of the giant of the storm.

Yet not utterly, thank God! The wonderful
radio had flashed its message through the black
night, had reached out over the mighty waves,
had gone to one ship and said “Come,” had gone
to still another and said “Come,” perhaps to still
another and still another, always with the same
message “Come! A comrade is in danger. I’ll
lead you to him. Come! Come quickly!”

And one gallant ship had heard and answered;
and still another had heard and turned its prow
in the direction of the sinking vessel, and by this
time perhaps others were tearing through the
waves toward the helpless craft that the ocean
threatened to engulf.

This was the hope that buoyed up the comrades
and kept them from despair as they hurried
as fast as they could through the Egyptian darkness
of the night.

The path that they were following, or rather
the direction in which they were going—for in
that blackness no path could be seen—was toward
the bungalow colony, beyond which lay the town.
It was their plan to go straight on to the town, if
they were not successful in coming up with Cassey
before they got there, and send out a description of
the scoundrel to all nearby towns
and warn the authorities to be on the alert to apprehend
him.

Between the radio station and the bungalow
colony was a little inlet into which the sea ebbed
and flowed with the movement of the tide. It
was from fifty to sixty feet wide, and a bridge
stretched across it at a height of twenty feet
above the water.

The inlet, or cove, was a comparatively quiet
place and was much frequented by the boys, and
indeed all the members of the bungalow colony,
for fishing and paddling about in rowboats and
canoes, craft that would have been too frail for
the open sea.

“Must be getting pretty near the bridge, don’t
you think, fellows?” asked Bob, after they had
got some distance from the radio station.

“Seems so to me,” replied Joe. “Though in
this darkness you can hardly see your hand before
your face.”

“We’ve got to be mighty careful and watch our
step, or one of us will be tumbling in,” said Herb.
“And while I’m fond enough of bathing as a rule,
I want to go in of my own accord.”

“I guess we’ll have to depend on our ears instead
of our eyes to warn us when we’re getting
close,” replied Joe. “And from what I think
I hear, our ears will be quite sufficient. Listen!”

The boys stood still for a moment, and then
they all heard a sibilant, shrill, hissing sound that
was entirely distinct from the beating of the surf
along the shore.

“That’s something new,” remarked Bob. “We
didn’t hear that when we came from the colony a
little while ago.”

“No,” replied Joe. “But in the meantime the
ocean has been getting in its work and has forced
its way into the inlet. From the sound, the
water’s rushing through there like a mill race.
And it’s all the fiercer because the channel is so
narrow. I guess Herb was right when he said
we’d have to watch our step.”

“Let’s all keep close together until we’ve got
on the other side,” suggested Bob. “It seems
to me that I can see the outline of the bridge
just a little way ahead.”

By advancing slowly, step at a time, they found
their way to the entrance to the bridge and Bob
heaved a sigh of relief as his hand rested on the
railing.

“Here we are all right,” he said. “Now follow
close in Indian file.”

“The inlet has surely gone on a rampage,” Joe
remarked. “Just hear the way the water goes
tearing along. And from the sound it isn’t so
far below the level of the bridge. Don’t let’s
dawdle, fellows. I for one will feel a mighty
sight better when we get on the other side.”

The others felt the same way, and all quickened
their steps. Nor was their apprehension allayed
by the way the bridge shook and quivered beneath
their feet.

They had nearly reached the middle of the span
when an ominous cracking was heard.

“Quick, fellows, quick!” shouted Bob. “The
bridge is breaking. Run for your lives!”

He sprang forward like a deer and the others
followed him pell-mell. They could feel the bridge
giving way beneath them, and the hiss of the
water was drowned by the horrid roar of crashing
timbers. One last frantic rush and they
cleared the bridge and felt the solid ground beneath
their feet.

They were not an instant too soon. Even
as their feet left the planking there was a splintering
crash and the bridge parted in the middle.
The ends still clung to the abutments on either
side, but the central portions fell into the stream,
where they were swung to and fro by the force
of the current so violently that it seemed that but
a short time would elapse before the ends also
would be torn loose from the banks and the whole
structure swept down toward the sea.

Cold chills chased each other up and down the
boys’ spines as they realized what a narrow escape
they had had from being engulfed in those
raging waters.

“That was a close call,” panted Bob, as he took
out his handkerchief and wiped the perspiration
from his face.

“I’ll tell the world it was,” agreed Joe.

“Another five minutes, yes, another five seconds,
and we’d have gone down with it,” said
Herb. “And I hate to think what it would mean
to be fighting for life in that whirlpool.”

“Well, we didn’t go down, thank Heaven,” rejoined
Bob. “And a miss is as good as a mile.
But where’s Jimmy?” he asked suddenly, as he
saw that only two were standing beside him.

“Why, he must be right around here,” replied
Joe, peering into the darkness on either
side. “I suppose he’s sitting down for a minute
to get his breath. Jimmy,” he called.

There was no answer.

An awful fear clutched at the boys’ hearts.

“He’s trying to scare us,” ventured Herb, but
without much conviction in his tones.

“Jimmy! Jimmy!” called Bob. “Don’t
frighten us, old scout. Where are you?”

Again that dead, terrible silence.

Then, so thin and weak that it sounded as
though from a great way off, they heard Jimmy’s
voice.

“Help! Help!”

“He’s down in the water,” cried Joe.

“He didn’t get off the bridge in time,” Herb
shrieked, in an agony of apprehension.

The three boys rushed to the bank and peered
down into the dense darkness where the only
light they could discern came from the white
spray that crested the waves of the raging torrent.

“Jimmy!” Bob shouted at the top of his voice.
“Where are you?”

“I’m down here in the water,” came Jimmy’s
voice. “I’m holding on to the broken end of the
bridge. But I can’t hold on much longer. Hurry
up, fellows, or I’m a goner.”

The boys were frantic with excitement.

“Hold on, Jimmy!” yelled Bob. “Hold on, for
the love of Pete! We’ll get you!”

But how?

The broken part of the bridge hung almost
perpendicularly for a distance of nearly twenty
feet before it reached the water. The rain had
made it as slippery as glass. The end on the
bank was grinding at its supports and threatened
every moment to tear loose and fall into the
stream.

All these things Bob took in, in a flash.

“There’s only one way,” he said grimly. “And
I’m going to take it. I’m going to work my way
down and try to get him.”

“Let me go,” put in Joe, but Bob was off before
any one could stop him.

He threw himself down flat on the bridge and
began to work his way down backward on his
hands and knees. The slope was so steep that
it was like going down a ladder, with the difference
that with a ladder he would have had rungs
on which he could have planted his feet solidly,
while here he had to dig his fingers and toes into
every crevice he could find to keep himself from
sliding down into the abyss of waters. Foot by
foot, with infinite care and caution, he let himself
down, keeping his eyes shut so that the sight of
the madly racing waters beneath him should not
make him dizzy and force him to let go his hold.

“I’m coming!” he shouted. “Hold on. I’m
coming. I’ll be with you in a minute.”

“I’ll try to, but my arm is getting numb,” answered
Jimmy. “Hurt it when I went down, I
guess. My fingers are slipping. Hurry.”

A flash of lightning came just then, and Bob,
looking over his shoulder, caught a glimpse of
Jimmy’s face, usually so ruddy, but now ghastly
white. His body was in the water and swung to
and fro, while one hand clung desperately to a
part of the broken bridge railing from which the
waves were trying to wrench him.

“I’m going,” cried Jimmy despairingly. “Oh,
Bob, hurry!”

“Hold on,” shouted Bob. “Hold on just one
second more!”

He reached his comrade just as Jimmy’s
cramped fingers were torn from their support.
Like lightning, Bob’s arm shot out and grasped
Jimmy’s wrist.

“I’ve got you, old boy,” he shouted. “Just
try to keep your head above water and I’ll pull
you out.”

With one arm thrown over the railing of the
bridge to give him purchase, he pulled Jimmy
toward him with all his strength. The current
tugged at Jimmy’s body like a ravenous beast unwilling
to be balked of its prey. But although
the muscles of Bob’s arm felt as though they
would break, the indomitable will behind them
had its way, and inch by inch he drew Jimmy in
until the latter was able to get hold of the swaying
planks and lessen in part the strain. Then with
infinite care and the utmost exertion of his
strength, he half helped, half lifted Jimmy out
on the planking, where he lay exhausted and
gasping.

CHAPTER XXIV—A TERRIBLE PLIGHT
==============================

For a few moments both boys were so used up
by the terrific mental and physical strain they had
been through that they were unable to move.
But the danger was still imminent, and how great
it was they learned through a call that came from
above.

“Hurry up, fellows,” came from Joe. “The
bridge is giving way up here and the whole thing
may go down any minute. I’m coming down to
help you get Jimmy up.”

“No, don’t do that,” cried Bob, rousing himself
to fresh exertions. “Your weight down here
would only help to pull the bridge down the
quicker. You and Herb stand by to give us a
hand when we get near the top.”

“Now, Jimmy,” he continued, turning to his
comrade, “we’ve got to brace and get up to the
top somehow just as soon as we can. You crawl
up alongside of me, grabbing anything you can
find to give a hold to your fingers in the cracks of
the planking, and I’ll boost you along just as much
as I can.”

Jimmy summoned up the last remnants of his
strength, and they commenced their arduous
climb up the slippery planks of the bridge.

It was like a nightmare. They would advance
a little and then slip back, losing sometimes as
much as they had gained. But they kept on with
an energy born of desperation. As often as Bob
found a secure grip with his right hand, he
would reach out with his left and give Jimmy a
vigorous boost upward and forward. Every
second now was precious, for they could tell from
the grinding noise above and the increased swaying
of the bridge that its last supports were
rapidly giving way. Yet despite their utmost
endeavor, they were only gaining inches when
they should have been gaining feet.

“Buck up, Jimmy,” Bob encouraged his comrade,
though his own strength was fast ebbing.
“We’ve only got six feet more to go.”

“Not that much,” cried a voice that they recognized
as Joe’s, and the next instant a pair of vigorous
arms reached out and two strong hands
gripped Jimmy’s wrists.

Joe had thrown himself flat, head downward,
from the top of the bridge, while Herb at the top
held on to his heels.

“Leave Jimmy to me,” commanded Joe.

“We’ll swing him up and then we’ll give you a
hand. Pull away, Herb.”

Herb, with his feet braced in two deep holes
he had dug in the sand, pulled with all his might
until Joe’s knees were over the top, thus giving
him a purchase. The next instant they had
Jimmy up and lying on his back on the bank.

Bob in the meantime, relieved of his care for
Jimmy, had got close to the top. Joe rushed
to him, caught one of his arms with his two and
pulled him off the bridge just as the last support
gave way and the whole structure, with a hideous
crash, went down into the boiling torrent.

For a little while not one of the boys could
speak. They had been engaged in a fight with
death and they had conquered only by the narrowest
of margins. They were spent and breathless,
but above all they were supremely grateful.

When at last they had recovered somewhat,
they turned their attention to Jimmy, who had
been the greatest sufferer in the events of that
never to be forgotten night.

“How are you feeling now?” asked Bob, as
he clapped the stout boy affectionately on the
shoulder.

“About as though I had been drawn through
a knothole,” replied Jimmy, trying to grin.
“I’m as sore as an aching tooth all over, but I
guess there are no bones broken. I’m bruised
most in my feelings, I reckon. Don’t see any
signs of my hair having turned white, do you?”
he joked.

“No,” laughed Bob. “Though in this darkness
I couldn’t tell whether it was white or black.
But you went through enough to turn it white,
I’ll vouch for that.”

“Not much more than you went through for
me,” replied Jimmy gratefully. “I’ll never forget
as long as I live, Bob, how you took your
life in your hands to come to my help.”

“Oh, forget it,” returned Bob lightly. “It’s
just exactly what any one of you fellows would
have done for me if I’d been in the same fix. I
tell you, Jimmy, our hearts stood still for a minute
when we found you weren’t with us.”

“It all happened so quickly that I don’t know
just yet how I came to be hanging on to that bit
of railing,” said Jimmy. “I can just remember
a fearful crash, and then I went tumbling down
with the same feeling at the pit of my stomach
that you feel when you drop down fast in an
elevator. Then the water closed in over me, and
I just reached out wildly and caught hold of
something and held on for dear life. I called
out two or three times before you heard me.
The water was making such a fearful racket
that it’s a wonder you heard me at all.”

“We’d have come down as soon as we missed
you on a chance of finding you, even if we hadn’t
heard you at all,” replied Bob. “But we sure had
a close call. That was a dandy idea of Joe’s
and Herb’s of forming a human chain. If they
hadn’t done it, we would have gone down with
the bridge.”

“Well, now that we’re safe and sound, let’s
get after Cassey,” suggested Jimmy. “We’re
losing time staying here.”

Bob laughed outright, and Joe and Herb joined
in.

“You sure have kept your grit, Jimmy, old
boy,” said Bob admiringly. “But you’ve done all
the chasing after Cassey that you’re going to do
to-night. It’s you for the bungalow and bed just
as fast as we can get you there. Then the rest
of us will keep up the hunt for that rascal.”

Jimmy protested strongly that he was as well
as ever, but when he got on his feet he was so
weak and trembling from his terrible experience
that he could scarcely stand. So he had to give
in, and with the other boys supporting him he
made his way painfully and slowly to his parents’
bungalow.

Their arrival created a sensation with Mrs.
Fennington and the girls, who were deeply concerned
when they heard of the strenuous doings
of the night. Jimmy was taken in charge at once
and put to bed. There was grief and consternation
also when they heard of the plight of the
*Horolusa* and her precious freight, but the boys
allayed this as much as possible by the reassuring
news that other vessels had been signaled and
were hurrying to her assistance.

“And now,” said Bob, after they had briefly
recounted the news, “we still have a lot of work
to do and we must be off. We’re going to head
off that Cassey if possible, and then we’re going
back to the wireless station. We’ll let you know
all that happens just as soon as we can.”

With many adjurations to be careful ringing
in their ears, they hurried out. Once again in the
open, they hastily laid out the plan of their further
campaign.

“Suppose, Herb, you go right on to the police
station,” suggested Bob. “Tell them just what
has happened and urge them to get busy in sending
out messages to surrounding towns and try to
have Cassey rounded up. In the meantime, Joe
and I will go to the garages and try to find out
whether Cassey has been to any of them trying
to get a car. That would be the thing he’d most
likely do, since there are no trains that he could
get away on.”

They all made haste, and in a few minutes
reached the town. Herb made a bee line for
police headquarters, while Bob and Joe hurried
to make inquiries in the three garages of which
the town boasted.

At the first two they got no clue. But they
were luckier at the third.

“Any one inquiring for a car?” repeated the
owner of the garage. “Yes, there was one fellow
not fifteen minutes ago. Wanted to get to Allendale,
where he said he could catch a train.”

“Did the man stutter?” asked Bob eagerly.

“Should say he did!” replied the garage owner,
grinning. “Got so tangled up that he had to
whistle to go on.”

“Cassey!” cried the boys in one breath.

CHAPTER XXV—THE FIGHT IN THE DARK
=================================

The man looked at them curiously.

“Friend of yours?” he questioned.

“Friend!” exclaimed Bob. “He’s a thief, and
it’s only luck that he isn’t a murderer. He blackjacked
Mr. Harvey over at the radio station and
got away with a pile of money. Which way did
he go?”

“Over in the direction of Allendale,” replied
the man, pointing out into the darkness. “So
he’s a thief, is he? If I had known that I’d
have nabbed him. That explains why he was so
excited. He offered me any money for a car,
but mine were all out at the time.”

“I tell you what!” said Bob. “We’ve got to
get that man and we can’t waste a minute. Suppose
you go to the police station and tell them
what you know and have them call up the Allendale
police and tell them to be on the watch for a
man that stutters.”

“I’ll do that, sure,” replied the man, and immediately
suited the action to the word.

“Come along, Joe,” cried Bob, and they both
plunged into the darkness, following the direction
that the man had pointed out.

Cassey had had a fifteen-minute start, but the
distance to Allendale was nearly four miles, and
the boys had no doubt that they would be able
to overcome that handicap, provided Cassey kept
to one of the two roads by which it was possible
to reach the town. Those roads ran nearly
parallel for quite a distance, separated at places
by a quarter of a mile and at others by half a
mile, but joining each other about half a mile before
Allendale was reached.

“Of course, we don’t know just which road
Cassey has taken, and if we stick to either one
we may make the wrong guess,” said Bob. “So
it will be good dope for us to separate and each
take one of the roads. If either of us gets the
skunk he can give our regular yodel call and the
other one can come hurrying to him across the
fields. We’ll never be more than half a mile from
each other.”

Joe assented to this and took the road that ran
almost parallel to but at the left of the one that
Bob was following.

The rain by this time had diminished somewhat
in violence, but the roads were muddy and progress
for Bob was slow. It was so dark that it
was impossible to choose one’s footing, and he
had to splash along as best he could.

On a night like that no one was abroad that
was not compelled to be, and the road was completely
deserted. For the first mile there was
nothing to indicate that Bob was anywhere near
his quarry. And he had almost covered a second
mile before he thought that he could hear footsteps
splashing along in front of him.

He quickened his pace, and the sound of steps
ahead grew louder. But that his own steps could
also be heard by the fugitive was indicated by the
sudden cessation of the noise in front.

Had Cassey, if he were indeed the man in front,
stopped? Was he hiding until his pursuer had
passed? Was he lying in wait to brain him as
he came along?

All these reflections passed through Bob’s mind
like a flash. And he too stopped for a moment
while he pondered his course of action.

For less than a minute he hesitated. Then he
moved forward. Anything was better than inaction.
If his enemy was lying in wait for him
and they came to handgrips—well, that was what
he was looking for. All he asked was a chance
to lay his hands on the villain who had assaulted
and narrowly escaped killing his friend. Boy as
he was, he was as tall and muscular as many a
man, and he was willing to take his chance.

He had gone perhaps a hundred feet when
nature came to his aid. There was a terrific clap
of thunder, and the lightning flash that followed
flooded all the landscape with light.

There at the side of the road, not ten feet from
him, was Cassey, trying to climb a fence. His intent
was obvious—to steal off through the fields
while his pursuer was vainly hunting him along
the road.

With a shout Bob leaped toward him. He
covered the ground in two jumps, caught Cassey
by the coat, and yanked him back to the
ground

With a savage snarl the rascal drew a blackjack
and aimed a blow at Bob’s head that would
certainly have knocked him out had it landed.
But with pantherlike swiftness Bob leaped aside,
and as Cassey tried to regain his balance, Bob’s
fist shot out with terrific force and caught Cassey
right on the point of the jaw. Cassey went
down in the mud, and in an instant Bob was on
top of him and had wrenched the weapon from
his hand.

“Now, Cassey,” Bob commanded, emphasizing
his words by a tap with the blackjack, “keep
quiet or I’ll give you a crack with this that will
send you to the land of dreams. Understand?”

That Cassey understood was shown by the fact
that he instantly ceased to struggle and lay limp
beneath his captor, who sat astride of him.

Keeping the weapon ready for instant use and
not taking his eyes from his captive, Bob lifted
up his voice in the yodel call that had been agreed
upon between him and Joe. The shrill call carried
far, and Bob had no doubt that it would be
heard.

Knowing that force was of no avail, Cassey resorted
to pleading.

“L-l-let me g-go,” he begged. “I’ll g-g-give
you a th-th-thousand dollars if you l-let me go.”

“Keep still, you skunk,” ordered Bob. “Do
you think I’m a crook like yourself?”

“I’ll m-m-m-make it two th-th-thousand,”
stuttered Cassey.

“Not if you made it a hundred thousand,” replied
Bob. “I’ve got you, Cassey, and you won’t
get off this time as easily as you did when you
tried to rob an orphan girl. It’s you for jail,
and you’ll stay a good long while where the dogs
won’t bite you.”

At intervals Bob repeated his call in order to
guide his friend, and in a few minutes there was
a crashing of the bushes and Joe stood at his side,
almost breathless with the haste he had made.

“What is it, Bob?” he asked, peering down on
the prostrate form of Cassey, on which Bob was
still sitting.

“I have met the enemy and he is ours,” answered
Bob exultingly. “I’m afraid he’s a little
out of breath from my sitting on him. So just
slip off your belt, Joe, and fasten his feet together
and then I can get up and stretch my legs.”

It took but a minute for Joe to pinion Cassey’s
feet securely, and then Bob got up. He told
Joe briefly what had taken place.

“There’s just one thing to do, Joe,” Bob concluded.
“You streak it for town and bring a
policeman and we’ll turn this fellow over to him.
In the meantime I’ll stand guard—Hello, what’s
that?”

There was a glare of light from the lamps of
an automobile that was coming from the direction
of Ocean Point. The car had just turned
a curve in the road a hundred yards away and was
bearing down upon them rapidly.

Both boys leaped into the center of the road
and waved their hands. The driver of the car
saw the boys and slowed down, and as the car
came to a stop Herb jumped down and ran toward
them.

“We’ve got Cassey,” shouted Bob.

“Glory hallelujah!” cried Herb. “I got this
car and came after you, and I’ve got a couple of
policemen with me. Where is the rascal?”

They dragged Cassey to his feet and delivered
him into the care of the two officers, who had followed
close on Herb’s heels. They bundled him
into the car and the whole party drove rapidly
back to town. There the rascal was searched,
and the whole amount of the theft was found
stowed away in his pockets. The money was
taken in charge by the proper officials to be delivered
to Brandon Harvey in the morning, and
Cassey was dragged off to a cell. Then the boys
left the station, with their cheeks burning from
the praise that was heaped on them by the authorities
for their quick-wittedness and bravery.

“Such a night!” exclaimed Bob, as the boys
took their seats in the car which they had retained
to carry them over to the radio station.

“We’ll never have such an exciting one again
as long as we live,” declared Joe emphatically.

But he was mistaken, as will be seen in the next
volume of this series, entitled: “The Radio Boys
at the Sending Station; Or, Making Good in the
Wireless Room.”

As the bridge was down they had to skirt the
head of the inlet to reach the radio station.
There they found Mr. Harvey, still badly shaken
by the attack, but steadily getting better. His
cousin, Frank Brandon, who had been notified
of the trouble, was with him and was attending
to the duties of the station.

Both men leaped to their feet as the boys
entered. The sight of the three happy faces
told its own story.

“We got him!” cried Bob. “Nailed him on
the road between here and Allendale. And
we’ve got back every cent of the money.”

Infinite relief dawned in Brandon Harvey’s
eyes as he shook hands with the boys and thanked
them again and again.

“You’ve given me a new lease of life,” he cried.
“And now I’ve got some good news for you in
return. The *Horolusa* is safe. The leak is
patched up, the *Falcon* and *Esperanto* are standing
by, and the storm is subsiding. In a day
or two your folks will again be with you, safe
and sound at Ocean Point.”

Then jubilee broke loose and the boys fairly
danced about the room in their relief and delight.

“How can we ever thank you enough!” cried
Bob.

“Don’t thank me,” returned Harvey. “I did
a little, but you did more. For don’t forget that
it was your message that saved the ship.”

.. class:: center

    THE END

-----

**THE TOM SWIFT SERIES**

By VICTOR APPLETON

UNIFORM STYLE OF BINDING. INDIVIDUAL COLORED WRAPPERS.

These spirited tales, convey in a realistic way, the wonderful
advances in land and sea locomotion. Stories like these are impressed
upon the memory and their reading is productive only of good.

   | TOM SWIFT AND HIS MOTOR CYCLE
   | TOM SWIFT AND HIS MOTOR BOAT
   | TOM SWIFT AND HIS AIRSHIP
   | TOM SWIFT AND HIS SUBMARINE BOAT
   | TOM SWIFT AND HIS ELECTRIC RUNABOUT
   | TOM SWIFT AND HIS WIRELESS MESSAGE
   | TOM SWIFT AMONG THE DIAMOND MAKERS
   | TOM SWIFT IN THE CAVES OF ICE
   | TOM SWIFT AND HIS SKY RACER
   | TOM SWIFT AND HIS ELECTRIC RIFLE
   | TOM SWIFT IN THE CITY OF GOLD
   | TOM SWIFT AND HIS AIR GLIDER
   | TOM SWIFT IN CAPTIVITY
   | TOM SWIFT AND HIS WIZARD CAMERA
   | TOM SWIFT AND HIS GREAT SEARCHLIGHT
   | TOM SWIFT AND HIS GIANT CANNON
   | TOM SWIFT AND HIS PHOTO TELEPHONE
   | TOM SWIFT AND HIS AERIAL WARSHIP
   | TOM SWIFT AND HIS BIG TUNNEL
   | TOM SWIFT IN THE LAND OF WONDERS
   | TOM SWIFT AND HIS WAR TANK
   | TOM SWIFT AND HIS AIR SCOUT
   | TOM SWIFT AND HIS UNDERSEA SEARCH
   | TOM SWIFT AMONG THE FIRE FIGHTERS
   | TOM SWIFT AND HIS ELECTRIC LOCOMOTIVE

Grossett & Dunlap, Publishers, New York

-----

**THE MOVING PICTURE BOYS SERIES**

BY VICTOR APPLETON

UNIFORM STYLE OF BINDING. INDIVIDUAL COLORED WRAPPERS.

Moving pictures and photo-plays are famous the world over,
and in this line of books the reader is given a full description
of how the films are made—the scenes of little dramas, indoors
and out, trick pictures to satisfy the curious, soul-stirring pictures
of city affairs, life in the Wild West, among the cowboys
and Indians, thrilling rescues along the seacoast, the daring of
picture hunters in the jungle among savage beasts, and the
great risks run in picturing conditions in a land of earthquakes.
The volumes teem with adventures and will be found
interesting from first chapter to last.

   | THE MOVING PICTURE BOYS
   | THE MOVING PICTURE BOYS IN THE WEST
   | THE MOVING PICTURE BOYS ON THE COAST
   | THE MOVING PICTURE BOYS IN THE JUNGLE
   | THE MOVING PICTURE BOYS IN EARTHQUAKE LAND
   | THE MOVING PICTURE BOYS AND THE FLOOD
   | THE MOVING PICTURE BOYS AT PANAMA
   | THE MOVING PICTURE BOYS UNDER THE SEA
   | THE MOVING PICTURE BOYS ON THE WAR FRONT
   | THE MOVING PICTURE BOYS ON FRENCH BATTLEFIELDS
   | MOVING PICTURE BOYS’ FIRST SHOWHOUSE
   | MOVING PICTURE BOYS AT SEASIDE PARK
   | MOVING PICTURE BOYS ON BROADWAY
   | THE MOVING PICTURE BOYS’ OUTDOOR EXHIBITION
   | THE MOVING PICTURE BOYS’ NEW IDEA

Grossett & Dunlap, Publishers, New York

-----

**THE BOYS OF COLUMBIA HIGH SERIES**

By GRAHAM B. FORBES

Never was there a cleaner, brighter, more manly boy
than Frank Allen, the hero of this series of boys’ tales, and
never was there a better crowd of lads to associate with than
the students of the School. All boys will read these stories
with deep interest. The rivalry between the towns along the
river was of the keenest, and plots and counterplots to win
the champions, at baseball, at football, at boat racing, at
track athletics, and at ice hockey, were without number.
Any lad reading one volume of this series will surely want
the others.

   | THE BOYS OF COLUMBIA HIGH
   |   Or The All Around Rivals of the School
   | 
   | THE BOYS OF COLUMBIA HIGH ON THE DIAMOND
   |   Or Winning Out by Pluck
   | 
   | THE BOYS OF COLUMBIA HIGH ON THE RIVER
   |   Or The Boat Race Plot that Failed
   | 
   | THE BOYS OF COLUMBIA HIGH ON THE GRIDIRON
   |   Or The Struggle for the Silver Cup
   | 
   | THE BOYS OF COLUMBIA HIGH ON THE ICE
   |   Or Out for the Hockey Championship
   | 
   | THE BOYS OF COLUMBIA HIGH IN TRACK ATHLETICS
   |   Or A Long Run that Won
   | 
   | THE BOYS OF COLUMBIA HIGH IN WINTER SPORTS
   |   Or Stirring Doings on Skates and Iceboats

12mo. Illustrated. Handsomely bound in cloth, with cover
design and wrappers in colors.

Grossett & Dunlap, Publishers, New York

-----

**THE OUTDOOR CHUMS SERIES**

By CAPTAIN QUINCY ALLEN

The outdoor chums are four wide-awake lads, sons of
wealthy men of a small city located on a lake. The boys
love outdoor life, and are greatly interested in hunting, fishing,
and picture taking. They have motor cycles, motor
boats, canoes, etc., and during their vacations go everywhere
and have all sorts of thrilling adventures. The stories give
full directions for camping out, how to fish, how to hunt wild
animals and prepare the skins for stuffing, how to manage a
canoe, how to swim, etc. Full of the spirit of outdoor life.

   | THE OUTDOOR CHUMS
   |   Or The First Tour of the Rod, Gun and Camera Club.
   | 
   | THE OUTDOOR CHUMS ON THE LAKE
   |   Or Lively Adventures on Wildcat Island.
   | 
   | THE OUTDOOR CHUMS IN THE FOREST
   |   Or Laying the Ghost of Oak Ridge.
   | 
   | THE OUTDOOR CHUMS ON THE GULF
   |   Or Rescuing the Lost Balloonists.
   | 
   | THE OUTDOOR CHUMS AFTER BIG GAME
   |   Or Perilous Adventures in the Wilderness.
   | 
   | THE OUTDOOR CHUMS ON A HOUSEBOAT
   |   Or The Rivals of the Mississippi.
   | 
   | THE OUTDOOR CHUMS IN THE BIG WOODS
   |   Or The Rival Hunters at Lumber Run.
   | 
   | THE OUTDOOR CHUMS AT CABIN POINT
   |   Or The Golden Cup Mystery.

12mo. Averaging 240 pages. Illustrated. Handsomely bound in Cloth.

Grossett & Dunlap, Publishers, New York

-----

**THE MOVING PICTURE GIRLS SERIES**

By LAURA LEE HOPE

Author of “The Bobbsey Twins Series.”

12mo. BOUND IN CLOTH. ILLUSTRATED. UNIFORM STYLE OF BINDING

The adventures of Ruth and Alice DeVere. Their father,
a widower, is an actor who has taken up work for the
“movies.” Both girls wish to aid him in his work and visit
various localities to act in all sorts of pictures.

   | THE MOVING PICTURE GIRLS
   |   Or First Appearance in Photo Dramas.
   | 
   | Having lost his voice, the father of the girls goes into the movies
   | and the girls follow. Tells how many “parlor dramas” are filmed.
   | 
   | THE MOVING PICTURE GIRLS AT OAK FARM
   |   Or Queer Happenings While Taking Rural Plays.
   | 
   | Full of fun in the country, the haps and mishaps of taking film
   | plays, and giving an account of two unusual discoveries.
   | 
   | THE MOVING PICTURE GIRLS SNOWBOUND
   |   Or The Proof on the Film.
   | 
   | A tale of winter adventures in the wilderness, showing how the
   | photo-play actors sometimes suffer.
   | 
   | THE MOVING PICTURE GIRLS UNDER THE PALMS
   |   Or Lost in the Wilds of Florida.
   | 
   | How they went to the land of palms, played many parts in dramas
   | before the camera; were lost, and aided others who were also lost.
   | 
   | THE MOVING PICTURE GIRLS AT ROCKY RANCH
   |   Or Great Days Among the Cowboys.
   | 
   | All who have ever seen moving pictures of the great West will
   | want to know just how they are made. This volume gives every detail
   | and is full of clean fun and excitement.
   | 
   | THE MOVING PICTURE GIRLS AT SEA
   |   Or a Pictured Shipwreck that Became Real.
   |
   | A thrilling account of the girls’ experiences on the water,
   | 
   | THE MOVING PICTURE GIRLS IN WAR PLAYS
   |   Or The Sham Battles at Oak Farm.
   | 
   | The girls play important parts in big battle scenes and have plenty
   | of hard work along with considerable fun.

Grossett & Dunlap, Publishers, New York

-----

**THE OUTDOOR GIRLS SERIES**

By LAURA LEE HOPE

Author of the popular “Bobbsey Twin Books” and “Bunny
Brown” Series.

UNIFORM STYLE OF BINDING. INDIVIDUAL COLORED WRAPPERS.

These tales take in the various adventures participated
in by several bright, up-to-date girls who love outdoor life.
They are clean and wholesome, free from sensationalism,
and absorbing from the first chapter to the last.

   | THE OUTDOOR GIRLS OF DEEPDALE
   |   Or Camping and Tramping for Fun and Health.
   | 
   | THE OUTDOOR GIRLS AT RAINBOW LAKE
   |   Or Stirring Cruise of the Motor Boat Gem.
   | 
   | THE OUTDOOR GIRLS IN A MOTOR CAR
   |   Or The Haunted Mansion of Shadow Valley.
   | 
   | THE OUTDOOR GIRLS IN A WINTER CAMP
   |   Or Glorious Days on Skates and Ice Boats.
   | 
   | THE OUTDOOR GIRLS IN FLORIDA
   |   Or Wintering in the Sunny South.
   | 
   | THE OUTDOOR GIRLS AT OCEAN VIEW
   |   Or The Box that Was Found in the Sand.
   | 
   | THE OUTDOOR GIRLS ON PINE ISLAND
   |   Or A Cave and What it Contained.
   | 
   | THE OUTDOOR GIRLS IN ARMY SERVICE
   |   Or Doing Their Bit for Uncle Sam.
   | 
   | THE OUTDOOR GIRLS AT THE HOSTESS HOUSE
   |   Or Doing Their Best for the Soldiers.
   | 
   | THE OUTDOOR GIRLS AT BLUFF POINT
   |   Or A Wreck and A Rescue.
   | 
   | THE OUTDOOR GIRLS AT WILD ROSE LODGE
   |   Or The Hermit of Moonlight Falls.
   | 
   | THE OUTDOOR GIRLS IN THE SADDLE
   |   Or The Girl Miner of Gold Run.

Grossett & Dunlap, Publishers, New York

|
|
|
|
|

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\*\*\* END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RADIO BOYS AT OCEAN POINT \*\*\*

.. backmatter::

.. toc-entry::
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