"Pittsburgh!" would be the operator's triumphant comment. "Wait a minute!"
We waited many a minute and hour, patiently expectant, but nothing happened. The most trying thing was Whinney's explanation. He would fix us mournfully with his brown eyes, while at the same time trying to fix the machine and say solemnly:
"The length of the antennae is in direct relation to the wave length of the tuner. At the same time the vacuum tubes must be connected with or, at least, related by oscillation to the tuning circuit. When a ship is in motion the undue number of electric 'strays' disturbs the delicate filaments of the tickler and absolutely wrecks the radio activity."
"I had one of those Radio-Rex things," cried Swank. "My sweetie gave it to me for Xmas."
"I suppose you gave her a tickler," rumbled Triplett.
THE TWO BEARS
Ikik is solemn. Ikik is offended. Her tender heart is roused. Why? In the answer lies the story of one of the most charming incidents of the Kawa's entire polar-cruise. In another picture the reader will see Makuik descending with murderous intent, on the back of a large polar-bear. Shortly after the kill it was discovered that this bear had just become a mother. Her offspring—there was but one—was immediately adopted by Ikik. Mother-love, which flourishes even in the high latitudes, surrounded the little cub with every protection. First reared as a bottle-bear, the bearlet passed safely through the teething period and soon became the regular attendant of his foster-mother who fed him solicitously at every meal.
It was this devotion which brought about the disturbance recorded by the camera. Warburton Plock seems to have developed an insatiable fondness for toasted-blubber. Not content with his own share he resorted to the cowardly practice of prigging from Toktok, as this ursus minimus was called. His method was characteristic of the man, combining cunning with greed. Having privately constructed a small cube of wood corresponding in size to the usual blubber-portion he would attract Toktok's attention and ostentatiously bury the decoy in the snow at some distance from the actual feeding ground. Then, while the little chap was busily digging for the supposed dainty Plock would swipe the real blubber which Makuik distributed with an impartial hand.
Ikik was no match in logic for the wily scientist.
"You are robbing my baby!" she wailed in the present instance.
"Yes," agreed Plock, "and your baby is under the impression that he is robbing me."
Needless to say Dr. Traprock settled this matter in his own direct fashion. As he said in conversation with the writer, "It is impossible to argue with such fellows. The only practical thing is to crown them."
The Two Bears
The whole business vastly amused the old salt. He could see nothing but foolishness in Whinney's maneuvers, "trying to git God-a'mighty on the 'phone," as he put it.