“There, guess that’s all right, unless you want it a little bigger,” said the man who had been working.
Dick looked up at the hole and saw that it would do all right.
Most of the men were frankly incredulous. The thought of talking through a ’phone that had no wires was a riddle to them, as few or none of them knew anything about radio.
One of them suggested that instead of wasting time with such a “fool contrivance,” they try to tear away the boards from the roof and take a chance on overpowering the guards. This was discouraged by the others who, though they were by no means cowardly, knew it would be foolhardy to face guns with only their bare hands.
“Let’s give the boy a chance with his infernal machine first,” advised a grizzled old lumberjack. “Then if it don’t work, we can try something else.”
Dick adjusted the aerial, and then tuning up, got ready to talk into the transmitter.
“Some of you men keep talking over there by the door, and the rest of you get near the windows and block anyone from seeing in. Don’t talk too loud, just enough to cover my voice.”
For nearly ten minutes Dick repeated over and over again:
“S. O. S. Send a sheriff with large posse to Boone’s camp. Owner and some of men held prisoners. Answer if you get message.”
Then there was a crackling sound in the receivers that were clasped to his head, and with a thrill he knew that someone was trying to get him.