He adjusted the tuning apparatus with trembling fingers. The voice still sputtered and crackled. Finally he got the right wave length, and heard a welcome voice.
“Hello, are you sending help call?”
“Yes,” almost shouted Dick. “Who are you?”
“Brown talking. My father is sheriff. Are you in earnest?”
“Yes, surely. Hurry posse on way. You’ll need thirty or forty men. We are held prisoners in bunkhouse here. Captors are all armed. Be careful. This is last call; act quick, as I’m going to pack up radio for fear I will be discovered and apparatus broken. Goodnight.”
“Going for Dad now, goodnight,” came the voice. There was a sputter, then silence.
Dick turned to the men, his face gleaming with pleasure.
“There will be a posse on the way in a short time. The radio worked,” he announced.
The little group of men burst into a cheer and were silenced only by the threat of the guards outside to come in and make them stop.
Feeling that they had done all that could be done, they prepared to turn in and wait the coming of the morn with its posse headed by Sheriff Brown.