Sally Scott of the WAVES

Transcriber's Note: The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.
Sally Scott of the WAVES Story by ROY J. SNELL Illustrated by HEDWIG JO MEIXNER
WHITMAN PUBLISHING COMPANY RACINE, WISCONSIN
Copyright, 1943, by WHITMAN PUBLISHING COMPANY Printed in U.S.A. All names, characters, places, and events in this story are entirely fictitious.
CONTENTS
ILLUSTRATIONS
Sally Placed the Black Box on the Study Table
It was mid-afternoon of a cloudy day in early autumn. Sally Scott glided to the one wide window in her room and pulled down the shade. Then, with movements that somehow suggested deep secrecy, she took an oblong, black box, not unlike an overnight bag, from the closet. After placing this with some care on her study table, she pressed a button, and caught the broad side of the box, that, falling away, revealed a neat row of buttons and switches. Above these was an inch-wide opening where a number of spots shone dimly.
After a glance over her shoulder, Sally shook her head, tossing her reddish-brown hair about, fixed her eyes on this strange box and then with her long, slender, nervous fingers threw on a switch, another, and yet another in quick succession. Settling back in her chair, she watched the spots above the switches turn into tiny, gleaming, red lamps that gave off an eerie light.
“Red for blood, black for death,” someone had said to her. She shuddered at the thought.
From the box came a low, humming sound. She turned a switch. The hum increased. She turned it again and once more the hum rose in intensity. This time, however, it was different. Suddenly the hum was broken by a low, indistinct hut—hut—gr—gr—gr—hut—hut—hut.
“Oh!” The girl’s lips parted as a look of surprise and almost of triumph spread over her face.