Ross pointed to the wave-length dial. "See?" he said. "I've got it on the right wave. Eighteen point seven five meters."
I stared a moment in bewilderment. Sure enough, it was where it should be.
"Sure you want eighteen point seven five? Better check," I cried in a small panic, thinking of what Hegstrom would say.
Ross gave me a withering glance which said without words, "Sure I want it? Did I ever lose my memory.
"Well, I can't fuss around here," I said with a hasty glance at the clock. "My call is due in about ten seconds."
Before I took my call I cried to my friend. "Probably something wrong with the dial control. You better try and find your call on some other number."
Then I snapped my button. The carrier wave was already coming in. I had caught my call just in time.
"Call-call-call—xxw2-zz5" I spluttered.
Next minute I was busily typing the routine news from Persia. With everything going along smoothly, I turned my eyes in Ross's direction. A good operator can do anything with his eyes while taking routine news; he can even use half his brain to think about other things.