"When did you begin to study radio, Mr. Perry?" asked Bud.
"Oh, I've been learning rapidly ever since I was thrown into the company of you hams," was the reply. "But don't let me get you off the question."
"The question—what was the question?" asked Cub, digging his fingers into his rather lengthy locks of hair.
"Mystery, wasn't it?" reminded Mr. Perry.
"Yes, that's it," Bud replied. "The mystery of the Radio Robinson Crusoe in the Lake of the Thousand Isles."
"That sounds interesting, but it's mostly a poetic, or ecstatic, jumble of words," said Mr. Perry. "And right there is the secret of many a mystery. It's clothed in a maze of language. Remove the maze, and it begins to look simple."
"Where is the maze of language in this affair?" Cub challenged.
"From what I've heard, the whole affair seems to have consisted principally of language. Now, I tell you what we'll do. We'll go to bed early and have a good sleep. In the morning, we'll shake this affair up in a sieve and see if we can't get rid of everything but the main lumps of the facts. Then we'll size them up and see what we can make of them. In my opinion, we can get at the bottom of what you choose to regard as a profound mystery."
"If you do, pa, you'll return my goat," said Cub.
"It's up to you, Bob," was his father's reply. "I've no desire to keep him in my stable."