“Didn’t I tell you ’twas!” replied Rawlins, his voice coming to Tom so distinctly that the boy started. “Not much like that dirty old river.”
“Hello, hello!” came Frank’s voice plainly, but rather faintly. “Were you speaking, Tom?”
“Yes, can you hear?” cried Tom.
“What is it you say?” queried Frank’s voice. “I can’t make out a word. Just a sort of crackling like static.”
Tom spoke still louder and at last shouted, but still Frank kept asking what he was saying and declaring he could not make it out.
“Well, something’s wrong,” Tom announced at last. “Might as well go back. They can’t hear.”
Ascending through the open door to the air-lock Tom waited while Rawlins manipulated the machinery which forced the water from the tiny chamber and let in the air and a moment later they were again in the radio room.
“I knew you were talking,” said Frank, “but I couldn’t make out a single word, just buzzes and clicks. What do you suppose is wrong?”
“It’s the way we have it connected up,” declared Tom, “but it gets me. I can’t understand why, if we get sounds through our suits with those little grid antennae you shouldn’t get them here with that bigger antenna. Did you try the regular aerial connection too?”
“Yes I tried both—or rather Mr. Bancroft tried one and I tried the other—and he didn’t get anything.”