"Gee. I forgot," he laughed. Laying down his headpiece, he ran across the room; opened a door into the power house adjoining where the mechanic was dozing over his pipe and called to him to throw on the generator.
Galloping back, as the man obeyed, Frank again snatched up his headpiece. Bob already was bending over a transmitter, calling to Jack in faraway New Mexico. Both boys listened with straining ears for the response. Presently Jack answered: "I can hear you, but only very faintly. Put that band piece on the talking machine. You know the one I like so much. I can't think of its name. I'll tune to it."
Frank hastily shuffled through a pile of talking machine records. Finding the one he sought, he put it on the machine which stood directly in front of a big condensing horn strapped to the back of a chair to give it the proper height. A moment or two later, Jack's voice in the receivers declared:
"All right. Shut her off now. I'm fixed fine."
"Say, Jack, think of talking 2,000 miles like this," said Bob.
"Oh, we've been working some days out here," answered Jack. "But we couldn't get you."
"No," cut in Frank. "The static interfered, I guess. But it lifted today."
"How are things going, Jack?" Bob inquired next.
Jack's voice became excited. "Going?" he answered. "Fellows, I never knew what excitement was until this last week."
"What do you mean?" demanded both boys together.