“What dubs we are, fellows, not to have thought of this before,” said Jack.
“Oh, well,” said Bob, “broadcast concerts never did interest me much, anyway. I like to do the sending myself, we’ve always been dog-tired when we made camp at night, and ready to turn in as quickly as Art and Dick. If it hadn’t been for your thought of bringing some relaxation and amusement to your father tonight, Jack, we’d have been asleep already.”
“I guess that’s right, old thing,” Jack replied. “You would have been asleep, anyway, even if the rest of us kept tossing. But what does she say, Frank? Any luck yet?”
Frank, who had been manipulating the controls, looked up mirthfully.
“What do you think of your musical program, Jack?” he replied. “Listen in a minute will you? They’re sending out a crop and weather report.”
Jack’s face fell, then he, too, laughed.
“Oh, well,” he said, “that’s just a preliminary. The concert will follow.”
“No,” answered Frank, who had resumed his headpiece, “now it’s a bulletin report on the day’s news events. Listen. Why, great—”
His voice died. Over his face came an expression of surprise.
Jack and Bob sprang to take up the other headpieces attached to the box. Over their features also spread amazement and even consternation. They listened intently. Then all three simultaneously tore off the receivers and looked at each other.