Pedro nodded, then with his rapscallion yet loyal crew whirled away. Soon the dustcloud raised by their departure settled, and they were lost in the shadows of the night. The remaining Mexicans, who had gathered to watch, dispersed. The tinkle of stringed instruments came from the Mexican quarters. The Hamptons, Rafaela and Donna Ana turned back to the patio. There they sat conversing until time to retire, and the next morning Mr. Hampton and Jack took their departure.
CHAPTER V.
OFF TO LAREDO.
During ensuing days Jack paid strict attention to his experimental work. He maintained daily radio communication with Rafaela, learning that there had been no further news from her father. But he made no more trips below the line. Tom Bodine tried to lure him away into the mountains on a fishing expedition, but he turned a deaf ear, leaving the older man disconsolate.
“Allus a-potterin’ ’round with that radio stuff,” said Tom contemptuously, lounging in the doorway of the radio shack. He made a clear-cut figure, like a Remington painting of the Old West, against the background of blazing sunshine and desert seen through the open doorway. “Don’t know why yo’re so crazy ’bout it, Jack,” he said turning away. “Bringin’ the noises o’ the world into the desert, that’s what yo’re a-doin.’ Some day ye’ll regret it, when ye ain’t got no place to go where ye kin have peace an’ quiet.” And he stumped away, with Jack’s laugh ringing in his ears.
But Jack’s experiments in simplification of the Super-Heterodyne were progressing satisfactorily, and he was pushing the work eagerly in order to have something with which to surprise Frank and Bob on their arrival. He had developed a special transformer which he felt assured was superior to anything then on the market. By its use he was receiving stations from coast to coast, with crystal clarity, loud speaker volume and minimum interference. Every day he logged each station and later singled it out again with the same dial setting. And every day’s patient experimentation found interference decreasing and volume and clarity growing stronger.
Then came the Saturday to which he had been looking forward as the last day on which to get everything in shape for the arrival of his two pals, who were expected on the morrow. But as he worked away that morning in the radio shack, he suddenly heard his call. It was the usual hour at which he was accustomed to call Rafaela, and as his eyes travelled to the clock he experienced a sense of guilt. So immersed in his work had he been that he had ignored calling. Doubtless, this was Rafaela summoning him.
But when he answered, a man’s voice replied: “That you, Jack?”
Jack stuttered. He could hardly believe his ears. Why, it couldn’t be—Yes sir, it was, it was! And so eagerly that he could hardly make himself heard, he shouted: “Hel-lo, Bob.”
“Here, get away. Give me a chance,” Jack heard coming through the air. That was Frank. There was the sound of a scuffle. Then loud and clear and triumphant came Frank’s voice: “The big bully. Tried to keep me away. Wanted the first word. But I—Ouch, leggo.”
Again the sound of scuffling, and then first Frank and then Bob shouted into Jack’s ears.