“Radio?” cried Jack. “Whew. These fellows must be well organized.”
“And a spy in the revenue forces, too,” commented Bob. “You certainly did have your ears open, Frank.”
Frank turned to the older man.
“So there you are, Uncle George,” said he. “That’s what I heard. Then, after one of them said that about the radio station and this man Handby, in the revenue forces—I’m sure the name was Handby—he suddenly realized they had raised their voices and
might have been overheard. So they left the platform. But I’m sure he was suspicious of me, although we all did seem to be snoozing. Now what had we better do?”
“This is a serious matter, boys,” said Mr. Temple. “Do you know anything about the smuggling traffic in Chinese coolies?”
“I know we have some kind of law barring them from entrance into the country,” said Jack. “But I’m hazy about it.”
Frank and Bob nodded agreement.
“Well,” said Mr. Temple, “in the days when this country of California was being settled by pioneers and immigrants, not only from the eastern part of our country but from foreign lands, too, the white people grew alarmed at the arrival of large numbers of Chinese laborers or coolies, as they are called.
“These people had utterly different standards of life. Due to the crowded conditions in their country, for China you will recall has about one-quarter of the entire population of the world, the Chinese coolie learns to exist on less food than the white man and to dress more cheaply, too.