Bill pushed Tony away from him and limped back several feet. Then he put his hollowed fist to his mouth and shouted into it:
“This is broadcasting station P D Q! I hope you are listening in!”
Tony caught the idea at once and put his hand to his ear. Bill continued:
“Strikes me this crowd here is crazy! A noisy bunch! Maybe they think we’re candidates for mayor, or something! This radio business is some pumpkins; eh, boy? I’d radiophone you a message in Italian, only I’ve left my dictionary at home! Well, I guess they’ve looked at us long enough now, so let’s switch off!”
Amid laughter, the boys returned to their seats.
“This is a gala occasion,” said Doctor Field, “and you must bear with the exuberance of our youthful enthusiasts. We have one other interesting experience for you, demonstrating the wonders of radio. Now, then, Mr. Sabaste, if you will——”
Tony and Gus quickly left the room. Presently, through the open door and from above, sharp, cracking sounds something like miniature pistol shots were heard. There was also a droning buzz and the sound of a loud speaking voice, the words unrecognized. The president added:
“Mr. Sabaste is now broadcasting a message, in Italian, to the yacht Elettra, outside New York harbor. He previously appointed this hour to send such a communication to none other than Signor William Marconi, asking him for a message to our school. We hope Sabaste may be successful.”
In a few moments the sounds from the transmitter in the broadcasting room ceased. There came a brief period of expectant silence, some of the audience staring about uncertainly, others more intelligently looking at the big horn of the receiver on the platform table. The time lengthened. It threatened to grow a little tedious. Then as Tony and Gus hastily appeared in the doorway, the sound of a human voice and good, clear English words emanated from the horn.
“The yacht Elettra, Marconi speaking. My young friend, the son of my friend Sabaste, now a citizen of America, has asked me to send a word of greeting to the Marshallton Technical College,—I hope I have the name correctly. I confess my being called on seems rather unusual, but yet I am glad to be able to communicate with an American educational institution, especially one devoted to physical knowledge, mechanics and electricity.