"Come around to the kitchen—quick!" called Susie, retreating hurriedly through the gate as the boys came close.
Matt took his machine into the yard and leaned it against the wall. Chub had already followed Susie into the kitchen, and they were standing in one corner of the room, looking down at the wreck of Chub's wireless apparatus when Matt ran in.
"What d'ye think of that?" wailed Chub, waving his hand toward the smashed instrument.
"Who did it?" queried Matt.
"I don't know, Matt," answered Susie. "I was in the front part of the house when I heard a smash out here in the kitchen. I came as quick as I could, but there was no one here. The kitchen door was open, and I ran and looked out. I heard some one running through the bushes, but I couldn't see who it was."
It had taken Chub several weeks to get together the materials for that wireless-telegraph apparatus. Induction coils and batteries he had sent away for, but all the rest of the material he had picked up here and there, wherever he could find them. The instruments had been crude, but they served their purpose and had been the pride of Chub's heart.
As he stared at the wreck, Chub clenched his hands and his lip trembled.
"Too bad, Chub," sympathized Matt. "Have you any idea who could have done it?"
"This seems to be Dirk Hawley's day for underhand work," muttered Chub.
"But Hawley couldn't have done this—he was hiking for town when it happened. Still, it may be that he was mixed up in it. Read that letter, Chub. There's a chance that it may give us a clue to the mystery."