By that time it was quite dark. Mr. Parker misplaced one of the tent stakes and could not find it without a lengthy search. As he finally drove it in, he hammered his thumb instead of the metal pin.
“Drat it all! I’ve had enough of this!” he muttered irritably. “Penny, why not give it up—”
“Oh, no, Dad!” Penny cut in quickly. “Once we get the tent up again, we’ll be all right. Here, I’ll hold the flashlight so you can see better.”
Finally the tent was successfully staked down, though Mr. Parker temporarily abandoned the idea of putting up the front porch. Penny set up the cots again and made the beds.
“Hope you packed plenty of woolen blankets,” Mr. Parker commented, shivering. “It will be cold tonight.”
Penny admitted that she had brought only two thin ones for each bed. “I didn’t suppose it could get so cold on a summer night,” she confessed ruefully.
Worn by his strenuous labors, Mr. Parker climbed into the closed car to smoke a cigar. Penny, finding the dark tent lonesome, soon joined him there. She switched on the car radio, tuning in an orchestra. Presently it went off the air so she dialed another station. A strange jargon of words which could not be understood, accosted her ears.
“Hold that, Penny!” exclaimed Mr. Parker.
“What station can it be?” Penny speculated, peering at the luminous dial. “It sounds like a short wave broadcast. Must be a station off its wave band.”
She and her father listened intently to the speaker who had a resonant, baritone voice. Not a word of the broadcast could they understand. Obviously a message was being sent in code.