“I’d rather have my sweet disposition,” he sighed, “than all of Salper’s wealth.”
“I don’t see why you think he’s so wealthy,” Bob objected. “Everybody who trades in Wall Street isn’t a millionaire, you know.”
“Say, wait a minute!” cried Bob suddenly, with an imperative wave of his hand. “Did you hear anything?”
They listened for a moment in breathless silence and it came again, the call that Bob’s sharp ears had first detected. In the distance it was, surely, but a distinct cry for help, nevertheless.
“Come on, fellows! We’re needed!” cried Bob, and, dropping his bag of nuts in the snow, he started off at a swift pace in the direction of the sound.
The rest of the radio boys needed no second invitation. They started after Bob, pushing swiftly through the deep snow.
But as the seconds passed and they heard no further outcry, they thought that they must have been mistaken or that they had started in the wrong direction.
However, as they stopped to consider what to do, the cries began again, louder this time, a fact which told them they had been on the right track all along.
They hurried on again, sometimes plunging into snowdrifts that reached nearly to their waists, but keeping doggedly on to the rescue.
It was enough for the radio boys that some one was in trouble. Even roly-poly Jimmy, puffing painfully, but running gallantly along in the rear, had but one thought in his head, and that to help whoever needed help.