All three chums stood on the Market Street sidewalk before the Palace Hotel. The hour was near eleven. The usual early morning fog which had hung over the city, as it does practically every day of the year, had been dissipated for an hour or more. The sky was cloudless and blue, the sunshine brilliant. A brisk breeze blew along the tremendously wide thoroughfare, which is the widest of all the great city streets of the land, so wide, in fact, that it accommodates four street car lines with the width of an ordinary street left over on each side between the outer tracks and the curbs.
“How delightfully cool and exhilarating!” commented big Bob, drawing in and expelling great
lungfuls of the crisp air. “I haven’t felt so peppy in days.”
“The guide book says that’s the San Francisco climate,” said Frank. “Cool, snappy days all the year round.”
“Your car, sir,” said a uniformed doorman to Jack.
They looked up to find a handsome limousine drawn to the curb. This was the car they had ordered for the day. The boys moved toward it.
“We ought to decide right now where we want to go,” declared Frank.
Jack had an inspiration.
“I’ll tell you what, fellows,” he said. “Father gave me the name and address of a man who invented some new radio equipment, and advised me to look him up. Suppose we do that, first. Then we can go sightseeing. It just occurred to me. Wonder where that address is.”
He began leafing over the pages of a small memorandum book.