"Let's get Bob here," suggested Ross, "he's got a steady head."
"And Fred," Anton added, "he's read all the Weather Bureau stuff on Frosts, I know. He's been writing his articles for the Review from them."
"All right," said Ross, "I'll slip over and call for Fred and you get Bob on the wireless and ask him to come over here."
An hour later, the four boys were poring over the weather maps, comparing notes and observations and trying to decide whether they ought to do anything. Fred, always ready to take up something new, was for plunging ahead, on the chance that there might be frost, but doubted whether a frost was likely. Ross, as head of the League, was a little timid and afraid to make a serious mistake. Anton was firmly convinced that a killing frost would come before morning. Bob settled it.
"Better for the League to be laughed at than chance having the crops ruined," he said.
This turned the scale, and from a discussion of the advisability of frost warning, the question turned to the best way of letting people know. It was decided that Bob should return to his wireless, get as many of his connected operators in touch as possible and get them to warn their districts. Fred, who had persuaded his father to install a 'phone, was to get in touch with the few farmers in the district who had telephones and ask them to spread the warning. Anton was to borrow his father's buggy and drive to points not reached in any other way, and Ross was to go on his pony. By this means, the county would be fairly well covered. The boys were just separating, when Bob stopped.
"Jed Tighe!" he said.
"Oh, let the old skinflint go," said Fred, "there isn't any way of reaching him, any way."
"That doesn't seem quite fair," said Ross, dubiously, "he's got more fruit than anybody else."
"It isn't fair," said Bob.