The doctor waited until the last notes had died away, and smiled with gratification as he saw the rapt look on the faces of his visitors.
"Sounds as if it were in the next room, doesn't it?" he asked.
"But that music came from Newark, New Jersey."
"Gee," whispered Jimmy to Bob, alongside whom he was sitting, "that's nearly a hundred miles from here."
"But there's no need of confining ourselves to any place as near as that," continued the doctor. "What do you say to listening in on Pittsburg? That's only a trifle of four hundred miles or so from here."
"He calls four hundred miles a trifle!" breathed Jimmy. "Pinch me, somebody. I must be dreaming."
Joe on his other side pinched him so sharply that Jimmy almost jumped from his chair.
"Lay off there," he murmured indignantly.
"S-sh," cautioned Bob, for by this time the doctor had made another adjustment.
Then into the room burst the stirring strains of the "Stars and Stripes Forever" played by a band that had a national reputation. The rhythm and dash and fire of the performance were such that the boys had all they could do to keep their seats, and, as it was, their feet half unconsciously beat time to the music.
"Hit you hard, did it?" smiled Dr. Dale, who, to tell the truth, had been keeping time himself. "Well, I don't wonder. I'd hate to see the time when music like that wouldn't shake you up. But now we'll go a few hundred miles farther and see what Detroit has to give us."