"Hooray!" shouted Bud, as he finished jotting down the last sentence.
"There are three amateurs, one in Clayton, N.Y., one in Rockport and one in Gananoque, Ontario, who have radio compasses and they worked together to locate the fellow on the island," continued the informant with the eagerness of fraternal interest and generosity. "I will give you their calls—"
The message was interrupted by a strong spark, which could not be ignored. Sender Number one stopped sending, and Hal gave ear to the new message.
"I will save you the trouble," read the dots and dashes evidently addressed to the operator he had just "crowded out," "I am at Rockport and am one of the three radio compass boys referred to. I can supply the dope right now."
Hal threw over the aerial switch and flashed the one word "Shoot!" Then he swung back again and all three boys listened eagerly.
"Have you a good map of the Thousand Island region?" inquired the loop aerial operator.
"Yes," Hal replied.
"Well, take these directions and then draw the line on the map. Draw one line from Clayton, N.Y., northeast, 47-1/2 degrees from perpendicular; another from Rockport, Ontario, southeast, 11 degrees from perpendicular; another from Gananoque, southeast, 76 degrees from perpendicular. The intersection of those lines will indicate the island those messages came from."
"He was on an island, was he?" asked Hal.
"Sure, or on a boat," was the reply. "He could not have been on the mainland. We were careful and could not have been more than a mile off in our reckoning. All three of us hit it the same."