“Just like an old-fashioned feather bed!” exclaimed Joe, as he bounced down upon the springy bed of twigs.
“That’s it,” smiled the miner. “Those are Arctic feathers. If we take time to make a camp like this every night, we’ll get a lot of comfort out of it and be all the better fitted for the trail. I’ll go out and set up a shelter for the dogs while you boys get supper, then we’ll be through for the night.”
CHAPTER III
A CLUE
After a hearty supper, Curlie brought forth his instruments and carefully wound his coil aerial.
The miner watched him for a long time in silence. Having lived in out-of-the-way places, he had learned nothing of this wonderful new invention, the radiophone.
“You don’t mean to tell me,” he broke forth at last, “that you can hear folks talk with just that outfit, no wires at all, and them fifty miles away?”
“Yes,” smiled Curlie, “five hundred miles or a thousand if you like. Almost any distance when conditions are right.”
Dropping back upon his sleeping-bag the miner watched with increasing interest. It was evident that he found the thing hard to believe and that at the same time he did not wish to doubt the word of a boy who had never told him a lie.
“Joe,” said Curlie, “here’s something brand new. I think it’s going to help us a lot.”
He placed a small instrument on top of a metal box, then connected it by a tube to a loud-speaker. After that he tuned in on the 750 meter wave length and spoke a few words into his transmitter. Having done this, he settled back as if to await an answer.