“Well, that sounds sensible,” his father had agreed. “Go ahead with your plans, but, remember, hold down the bulk.”
The result was that equipment capable of telegraphing five hundred miles was assembled, but also Jack made up five light field sets of radio, one for each of their party and for Farnum, which the user could pack in his clothing and which had a radius up to twenty-five miles. The instrument was Jack’s now famous ring radio, worn on the finger, with a setting only one inch by five-eighths of an inch. Formerly an umbrella as aerial had been employed but Jack had done entirely away with that in his improved set.
“Well, fellows,” said Jack, at last, as Nome faded entirely from view, “I wonder what lies ahead. I wonder whether Thorwaldsson’s expedition was stricken down by a plague, which seems hardly likely, as in that case surely somebody would have managed to get word to the outside by wireless or airplane, or whether it fell victim to a surprise attack by Indians at night, as I understand from Dad that Farnum believes.”
“Is that so,” said Frank, in surprise. “That’s the first I heard of that.”
“Yes,” said Jack. “Dad told me of it when we were coming aboard this schooner. He said it was the first intimation Farnum had given him that such might be the case, and also his first intimation that there were hostile Indians in this country into which we are going. If it weren’t too late, he told me, he would have turned back rather than imperil us, as it is, we shall go pretty warily and try to steer clear of the hostile Indian country.”
“Whew,” said Bob, “this sounds interesting, hey, what?”
His eyes began to shine.
“Old Bob. Always ready for a fight,” said Frank. “Well, let’s give him one.”
And incontinently, he and Jack fell upon the big fellow and a tussle followed that ended only when they almost fell overboard.