Joe couldn’t help laughing at Hank’s woebegone and alarmed expression as the young fisherman rubbed his arm.
“That wasn’t a bite, Hank, that was an electric shock. I wouldn’t advise you to tamper with the instruments again. Come here and I’ll show you how to work the key.”
“What, me? No, siree bob,” and Hank shook his head with deep conviction. “Let sleeping dawgs lie, says I. I wouldn’t touch that thar thing ag’in fer a new fishing boat. Wow, but the sparks flew!”
“It was lucky for you that we are not operating a high power station,” declared Joe. “Had we been doing so you might have been knocked out.”
“Sho! Killed dead?”
“Maybe. At the big stations the electric forces in the atmosphere are so strong that visitors cannot bring their watches into the operating room, unless they want to run the risk of seriously disarranging the mechanism.”
Hank looked prepared to believe anything by this time.
“Say, Joe,” he said, “now that we’ve buried the hatchet, s’pose you tell me something about how this contraption works.”
“It’s rather hard to explain in simple language, Hank, and I guess there are heaps of fellows just like you who’d like to understand the first principles of wireless without tackling a lot of dry text books, so here goes.”
“Let her go,” said Hank, knitting his brows and preparing to assimilate knowledge with a determined look on his rugged features.