“Jerusalem!” said Jimmy. “That would be heaven on earth, wouldn’t it?”
“That’s probably your idea of it,” said Joe. “I suppose you’d rather have streets paved with pie than with gold.”
“Oh, well, what’s the use of talking about it?” sighed Jimmy. “It’s all too good to be true anyway.”
“It’s a wonder you fellows wouldn’t cut out that talk and look at the landscape a little,” said 138 Bob. “You’re missing some pretty fine scenery.”
“It is beautiful,” remarked Frank Brandon. “It’s too bad we haven’t got further to go, as long as Doctor Dale is buying the gasoline.”
“Oh, it’s cheap at any price,” laughed Dr. Dale. “I don’t know what I would ever do without this car.”
The miles rolled rapidly behind them, and before they realized it they were on the outskirts of New York. The boys thoroughly enjoyed the ride through the city; probably more than did Dr. Dale, to whom the heavy traffic was anything but a pleasure. They finally reached the downtown ferries, however, and after a slight wait in line, got on a boat. The boys were absorbed by the busy scene presented by the river which was covered with craft of all descriptions. The big ferryboat edged its way across the river without mishap and bumped into its slip. The traffic on the New Jersey side was hardly less dense than that which they had encountered in New York, but Dr. Dale skillfully threaded his way through it and after a drive through narrow streets lined by foundries and factories, and across the broad meadows, and past more places of business, they at last drew up before the big broadcasting station.
“Well, here we are,” said Dr. Dale, relaxing 139 after the strain of traffic driving. “How do you feel, Larry? Strong for anything?”
“I’m a little shaky, but I guess I’ll get through with it all right,” replied Larry. “Just lead me to it.”
The boys assisted him into the radio station, where Mr. Brandon introduced them all to the manager, Mr. Allard.