“I had forgotten that that’s where you came from,” said Johnson. “But you mustn’t take it too hard. The message didn’t say there was any actual loss of life. A fire isn’t like an earthquake. People usually have a chance to get away from it. And as to the property, most of it was probably insured.”
“And these first reports are usually exaggerated,” put in Marston. “Folks lose their heads in the excitement, and then, too, the newspapers make a big story of it for the sake of startling headlines. You just take my advice and don’t worry too much until you get later news.”
But their well-meant sympathy was of little avail. The Radio Boys were in an agony of grief and apprehension. A crushing blow had fallen upon them.
If they could only be there, on the spot, to share with their loved ones whatever of woe and loss had come to them! None of them knew but what they might at that moment be fatherless or motherless. The possible money loss was bad enough, but infinitely worse was that ominous clause at the end of the message with all of its sinister suggestion:
“Loss of life feared!”
Whose lives?
With the promise of the wireless men to use every means of getting further information as soon as possible sounding in their ears, the boys left the wireless room. They were on the way to their own cabin where they could think and talk over the calamity together, when they came across Captain Springer, who was just emerging from his room.
He started as he saw the ghastly looks on their faces.
“What is the matter?” he asked quickly.
In half-broken and almost incoherent words, they told him, and ready sympathy leaped into his face as he listened.