CHAPTER XIX
WIRELESS WONDERS
“What do you mean?” asked Bob, secretly wondering whether the wireless man was trying to mystify him.
“Just what I say,” repeated Johnson. “My set goes practically dead while the aurora borealis is getting in its work. Can’t send, can’t receive. When that begins to flood the sky—and it does it pretty often up in these latitudes—it means that my helpers and I get a little vacation.”
“I should think you’d be glad of it,” remarked lazy Herb.
“Oh, of course a little unexpected rest is welcome once in a while,” admitted Johnson. “But all the same it leaves me uneasy. How do I know but at this very moment some ship in distress may be signaling us for help and we can’t get the message?”
“I suppose you feel something as a fireman would at a fire if he found his hose was cut,” conjectured Joe.
“Something like that,” replied Johnson. “Only my comfort is that there may not be a fire. Nothing may happen, of course, when your set is out of commission, and then again anything may happen. There’s no help for it, though, and I’ve simply got to wait until the aurora gets ready to say good-night.”
“It’s queer that it should have that effect,” mused Bob, thoughtfully. “What do you suppose the reason is?”
“That’s something the scientists haven’t found out yet,” was the reply. “There have been a lot of theories, but none of them’s satisfactory. All we know is that there’s so much electrical energy let loose when the aurora is working that our poor little signals get lost in the shuffle. Some day, though, the radio sharps will be able to tell us all about it.”
“I should think that that would have a serious effect upon the radio sets of the airships they are planning to fly to the Pole,” remarked Joe, as his thoughts went back to the Shooting Star and her outfit. “Just at the time they most need to communicate with the people south of them, they may find that there’s nothing doing.”