AT THE WIRELESS STATION
“Why, it’s this way,” explained Larry. “We are vaudeville performers. Tim’s specialty is dancing, and I can tell you, because he’s too modest to say it himself, that he’s a peach. Whenever he appears, he just knocks them off their seats. He’s a riot.”
“Cut it out,” protested Tim. “Leave that to the press agent.”
“It’s straight goods, just the same,” declared Larry. “As for little me, I’ve got a knack of twisting myself into knots, and then, too, I do a little whistling. And because of that they call me on the posters and in the theater programs the Canary Bird Snake. Kind of mixed up, isn’t it?”
The radio boys were tremendously interested. The stage had for them the touch of mystery and glamour that appeals to youth, and it was an unusual treat for them to be talking on familiar terms with characters such as they had 32 only seen hitherto in the glare of the footlights.
“It must be great,” said Bob, “to go all over the country as you do and see all there is to be seen.”
“Oh, like everything else, theatrical life has its ups and downs,” replied Larry. “It’s all right when they hand you applause, but not such fun when they throw eggs, especially if the eggs are old. We’ve never had that experience yet though, and here’s hoping that we never shall. There’s lots of hard work connected with it, and Tim and I have to work a good many hours each day to keep ourselves in trim. Then, too, when you’re playing one night stands and have to get up before daylight to catch a train, which in rube towns often turns out to be just a caboose attached to a freight, it isn’t any fun. And it’s less fun when you happen to get snowed in for a day or two, as has happened to us several times. But you get paid for all that when your turn goes big and the audience is friendly and gives you a good hand. Oh, it isn’t all peaches and cream, but take it altogether we have a pretty good time.”
“That is, when we’re working,” put in Tim. “It isn’t much fun though when the ghost doesn’t walk every Saturday night.”
The boys looked a little puzzled and Larry undertook to enlighten them. 33
“Tim means when the pay check doesn’t happen to come along,” he said. “In other words, when we’re out of a job. You see we’re both pretty young in the profession and we aren’t as well known as we hope to be later on. We have to take what we can get on the small-time circuits, and we know that if we make good there we’ll get on the big-time circuit sooner or later. Just now things are slack in the theatrical line as they always are in summer. We’ve got our lines out for a job in the fall, but nothing definite has come of it yet. So we thought we’d come down to the seashore for a few weeks and get a little of the sea air into our lungs.”
“But we didn’t figure on getting as much sea water into our stomachs as we did this afternoon,” laughed Tim. “I can taste it yet. I don’t think I’ll want any salt on my victuals for a month to come.”
Just then Mrs. Layton appeared and announced that supper was ready, and they all obeyed the call with alacrity, Bob’s chums being included in the invitation.
The meal was excellent, as Mrs. Layton’s always were, and there was a great deal of jollity as it progressed. Larry was very droll and kept the boys in roars of laughter as he told of some of the funny incidents in his experience, and Tim was not far behind him. 34
After the meal was over, nothing would do but that Larry and Tim should go through some of their performances for the entertainment of the company. This they did, and though they were handicapped by the absence of the usual stage properties, Larry not having his stage suit with him and Tim being without his clog dancing pumps, the spectators were delighted. Larry tied himself into a mystifying tangle of knots, and his whistling was so sweet and melodious that it roused his audience to the heights of enthusiasm. And Tim’s graceful dancing was a revelation of the possibilities of the Terpsichorean art.
Then the radio boys took their turn and gave their visitors a radio concert that was wonderful in its variety and beauty. The night happened to be unusually free of the annoying static that is the bugbear of the wireless, and every note of the music was as clear and sweet as though the performers were only a few yards away. Tim and Larry listened as though they were entranced, and when the concert was finished they were as enthusiastic “fans” as the radio boys themselves.
“It’s simply wonderful!” exclaimed Larry. “It’s the first time I’ve ever had the chance to ’listen in,’ but you can bet it won’t be the last.”
“I’ll tell you what,” proposed Bob. “We’re 35 going over to the wireless sending station to-morrow morning to see the operator there, Mr. Harvey. He’s the finest kind of a fellow, and he’ll be glad to see you. Suppose you and Tim come along with us.”
“Surest thing you know!” ejaculated Larry, and Tim acquiesced with equal enthusiasm.
They parted for the night with a feeling on both sides of warm liking and esteem and a looking forward to a most enjoyable time on the following day.
The next morning the radio boys set out shortly after breakfast, met Larry and Tim at a point previously agreed upon, and together took their way toward the wireless station.
Mr. Harvey was alone when they entered, and jumped to his feet with hands extended in greeting and a face beaming with welcome.
“What good wind blew you over here?” he exclaimed, as he shook their hands heartily.
“We came because we wanted to see you, and also because we wanted to show our friends here something of the way the wireless works,” said Bob.
He introduced Larry and Tim and Mr. Harvey welcomed them so warmly that they felt at once at home.
“So these are the young men you boys pulled 36 out of the water yesterday,” he said. “It’s mighty lucky for them that you happened to be around.”
“I’ll say it was,” agreed Larry, and Tim nodded vigorously.
“How did you happen to hear of it?” asked Bob.
“Hear of it?” Brandon Harvey repeated. “All the beach is ringing with it. All the hotels are buzzing with it. If you’ll look at the morning papers from the city, you’ll find they all have a full account of it with comments on the pluck and presence of mind of the fellows who did it. You can’t get away with that stuff without having it known, no matter how modest you are.”
“Making lots of fuss about a trifle,” muttered Bob.
“Trifle,” laughed Harvey. “Just the same kind of a trifle as that you pulled off the night you saved the ship and captured the man who had knocked me out. Have they told you about that?” he asked, turning to Larry and Tim.
“Not a word,” replied Larry.
“Never breathed it,” declared Tim.
“Just like them,” asserted Brandon Harvey, and then went on to tell them of that dreadful night when the storm was raging; how they had found him knocked senseless on the floor and the safe looted; how they had sent the signals 37 that had saved the ship from destruction; how they had pursued the robber and captured him after a hand to hand tussle and recovered the loot.
“Well, now about the wireless,” interposed Bob, anxious to change the subject. “These friends of ours are a new addition to the army of fans and we want to put them next to some of the wonders of radio.”
“It’s a great army all right,” laughed Harvey, “and we’re always glad to welcome new recruits. They’re coming into the ranks by thousands every day. Nobody can keep count of them, but they must run into the millions.
“And they’re great in quality as well as quantity,” he continued, warming to his favorite subject. “The President of the United States has a radio receiving set on his desk. There’s one in the office of every one of the ten Cabinet members. The Secretary of the Navy is sending out wireless messages every day to vessels scattered in all parts of the globe. The head of the army is keeping in touch by radio with every fort and garrison and corps area in the United States. On last Arbor Day the Secretary of Agriculture talked over the radio to more people than ever heard an address in the history of the world. But there,” he said, breaking off with a laugh, “if I once get going on this line I’ll never know 38 when to stop. So I’ll say it all in one sentence—the radio is the most wonderful invention ever conceived by the mind of man.”
“You don’t need to prove it to us,” laughed Bob. “It’s simply a miracle, and we become more convinced of that every day. I’m mighty glad I was born in this age of the world.”
The boys crowded around Mr. Harvey as he explained to Larry and Tim in as simple a way as possible the radio apparatus of the station.
“When I press this key,” he said, “an electrical spark is sent up into the antenna, the big wire that you see suspended from the mast over the station, and is flung out into space.”
“Travels pretty fast, doesn’t it?” asked Larry, to whom all this was new.
“Rather,” laughed Mr. Harvey. “It can go seven and a half times around the world while you are striking a match.”
“What!” exclaimed Larry incredulously. “Why, the circle of the earth is about twenty-five thousand miles.”
“Exactly,” smiled Harvey. “And that spark travels at the rate of one hundred and eighty-six thousand miles a second.”
“You’re sure you don’t mean feet instead of miles?” suggested Tim dubiously.
“It’s miles all right,” laughed Harvey. “Electricity 39 travels at the same rate as the light that comes to us from the sun and stars.”
“What becomes of this electrical impulse after it gets started on that quick trip?” asked Larry. “How does the fellow on the other end get what you’re trying to tell him.”
“That fellow or that station has another antenna waiting to receive my message,” replied Harvey. “The signal keeps on going through the ether until it strikes that other antenna. Then it climbs along it until it reaches the receiving set and registers the same kind of dot or dash as the one I made at this end. It’s like the pitcher and catcher of a baseball battery. One pitches the ball and the other receives the same ball. At one instant it’s in the pitcher’s hand and the next it has traveled the space between the two and is resting in the catcher’s hand. Sounds simple, doesn’t it?”
“Sounds simple when you put it that way,” laughed Larry. “But I have a hunch that it isn’t as simple as it sounds.”
“Well, to tell the truth, it isn’t quite as simple as that,” confessed Harvey. “There’s a whole lot to learn about receiving and transmitting and detectors and generators and condensers and vacuum tubes and all that. But my point is that there’s nothing of the really essential things that 40 are concerned in getting entertainment and instruction from radio that can’t be learned with a little application by any one of ordinary intelligence.”
“I wonder if I’m in that class,” said Larry quizzically, and there was a general laugh.
Another half hour was spent with great profit and interest in the sending station and then the boys arose to go.
“How are you getting along with that regenerative set?” asked Mr. Harvey of Bob.
“Pretty well, thank you,” answered Bob. “It’s the proper adjusting of the tickler that’s giving me the most trouble.”
“Be careful not to increase it too far,” warned Harvey. “If you do, the vacuum tube oscillates and becomes a small generator of high frequency current and in that way will interfere with other near-by stations. Then, too, the speeches and music will be mushy instead of being clear. Drop in again when you have time and we’ll talk the matter over a little further.”
The visitors bade their host farewell and trooped out into the bright sunshine. Larry and Tim were enthusiastic over the new world into which they had been introduced.
“The most wonderful thing in the world,” was their verdict.
They spent the rest of the morning on the 41 beach, and before they parted, Larry had secured a promise from the radio boys to come over to a dance that was to be held the next night at the hotel where he and Tim were stopping.
“Jolliest kind of fellows, aren’t they?” said Joe.
“They sure are,” agreed Herb. “I should think that free and easy life of theirs would be just one round of enjoyment.”
“I wouldn’t exactly say that,” remarked Bob. “Two or three times I have noticed a look of worry in Larry’s eyes as though something were weighing on his mind.”
This arrow, shot at a venture, was indeed correct, for Larry was far from being as care free as the boys imagined. The fact that he was out of work at present worried him, naturally. But this would have but little weight with him had it not been for his sick mother at home. That mother had worked for years in his behalf, following the death of his father, whose affairs were so involved at his death that there was little money left to support his wife and child. The mother had kept up a brave heart, however, and done the best she could for herself and her idolized son. The strain of being both bread-winner and mother had told, however, and now she was in ill health. Larry, since he had entered upon a profession, had sent to her all that he possibly could in order to maintain her in comfort, but 42 just now the source of supply had stopped and there was no knowing at what time it would be resumed. He knew that his mother had very little money on hand at the time, and her condition of health made Larry her only resource.
The radio boys kept their engagement, and the dance was a jolly affair at which they enjoyed themselves thoroughly. The only drawback to a perfect evening was the fact that Buck Looker and Carl Lutz were there also, but this did not bother them much in the early part of the evening.
The last dance had just been concluded and the ardent dancers were clamoring for one more encore, when a disturbance rose at one end of the room that attracted general attention. The radio boys hurried to the spot in question to find Buck and Lutz talking excitedly while Larry and Tim were standing near them with flushed and indignant faces. The manager of the hotel and a house detective were also in the group.
“I tell you that those are the fellows who did it,” Buck was vociferating, while he pointed to Larry and Tim. “They were the ones closest to me when I missed my watch and stickpin, and I had just looked at my watch the minute before. If you search them you’ll find the goods on them. My friend here lost his at the same time.”
“If there weren’t ladies here, I’d cram the story down your throat!” exclaimed Tim, his eyes blazing.
“That’s a serious charge you’re making, young man,” said the manager to Buck.
“They’ve got them,” said Buck sullenly. “Search them and you’ll find I’m right.”
“See here,” cried Larry. “If this fellow were the only one concerned I wouldn’t condescend to satisfy him. But I have some friends here,” indicating the radio boys, “and for their sakes I’m going to establish my innocence beyond any doubt. Come right in to one of the private rooms here and search me thoroughly. As for this fellow,” glaring at Buck, “I’ll settle with him at another time.”
The party adjourned to a room, and a thorough search resulted in showing that none of the missing articles was on Larry or Tim.
“Now I’ll settle with you,” cried Larry, making a rush at Buck. But he was restrained by the house detective who held him while Buck and his crony slunk away.
The radio boys gathered around their new friends and condoled with them over the unfounded accusation.
“He’ll pay me for that yet,” declared Larry, who had been wrought up to a high pitch of excitement. 44
“Here’s hoping you’ll get a hack at him,” said Joe. “Did you notice that there wasn’t a word of apology for having made a false charge against you?”
“Did you ever know him to do a decent thing?” asked Bob scornfully. “That’s Buck Looker to a dot.”
The next morning Bob was over at Joe’s bungalow when Mr. and Mrs. Rockwell called with Mary to thank the Atwoods for the care they had given Mary when she was brought from the water, and also to express their gratitude to the boys, whose quickness and resource had saved her life.
Mary, a pretty girl, had entirely recovered, and was profuse in her thanks to Bob and Joe, which were echoed by her parents, who laid so much stress upon their bravery that the boys blushed to the ears.
“You are making altogether too much of it,” Bob protested, and Joe agreed.
“It is impossible to do that,” said Mr. Rockwell, and Mrs. Rockwell nodded her head vigorously.
“The only thing I am sorry about,” said Bob, “is that we have not been able to catch the fellows in the motor boat who ran the rowboat down. They ought to be sent to jail on the double quick.”
“It turns out,” said Mr. Rockwell, “that they 45 were not only heartless brutes, but thieves as well. We found out yesterday that the boat had been stolen from Mr. Wentworth, who is one of the guests at the hotel where we are stopping. They left an old rowboat in its place. Mr. Wentworth has put the police on the track of the thieves, but as yet nothing has been heard of them. I am afraid they have made good their escape.”
“I only hope,” declared Bob, “that I may live long enough to get my hands on the throat of one or both of them.”
“I’d like that privilege,” returned Mr. Rockwell warmly, “but I am afraid the chances are slim. They may be hundreds of miles away by this time.”
“Well,” said Joe, “the arm of the law is long and it may reach them yet.”
“Here’s hoping,” said Bob.