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The Radio Boys Series

(Trademark Registered)

THE RADIO BOYS AT THE SENDING STATION

Or

Making Good in the Wireless Room

by

ALLEN CHAPMAN

Author of
The Radio Boys' First Wireless, The Radio Boys at Ocean Point
Ralph of the Roundhouse, Ralph on the Army Train

With Foreword by Jack Binns

Illustrated

[Illustration: THE TIME CAME FOR JOE TO GIVE HIS RECITATIONS.
The Radio Boys at the Sending Station.        Page 209]

New York
Grosset & Dunlap
Publishers

Made in the United States of America

BOOKS FOR BOYS

BY ALLEN CHAPMAN

12mo. Cloth. Illustrated.

THE RADIO BOYS SERIES

(Trademark Registered)

 THE RADIO BOYS' FIRST WIRELESS
  Or Winning the Ferberton Prize

 THE RADIO BOYS AT OCEAN POINT
  Or The Message that Saved the Ship

 THE RADIO BOYS AT THE SENDING STATION
  Or Making Good in the Wireless Room

 THE RADIO BOYS AT MOUNTAIN PASS
  Or The Midnight Call for Assistance

 THE RADIO BOYS TRAILING A VOICE
  Or Solving a Wireless Mystery

THE RAILROAD SERIES

 RALPH OF THE ROUNDHOUSE
  Or Bound to Become a Railroad Man

 RALPH IN THE SWITCH TOWER
  Or Clearing the Track

 RALPH ON THE ENGINE
  Or The Young Fireman of the Limited Mail

 RALPH ON THE OVERLAND EXPRESS
  Or The Trials and Triumphs of a Young Engineer

 RALPH THE TRAIN DESPATCHER
  Or The Mystery of the Pay Car

 RALPH ON THE ARMY TRAIN
  Or The Young Railroader's Most Daring Exploit

GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, New York

COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY

GROSSET & DUNLAP

The Radio Boys at the Sending Station

FOREWORD BY JACK BINNS

Since this volume was written an epoch making invention has been announced
to the radio world. It is the super-regenerative system developed by E. H.
Armstrong, the wizard of Columbia University. This system is bound to
revolutionize the art of wireless communication in every branch, and is in
itself the most important discovery since Marconi put into operation the
first crude form of wireless apparatus.

I am mentioning this fact because there is the romance of youth overcoming
every obstacle placed before it tied up in the history of Armstrong's
remarkable achievements, and the story of this romance should stand
forward as an incentive to American boyhood.

Fifteen years ago when radio amateurs first began to send out wireless
telegraph messages, the federal authorities in Washington were at a loss
to devise some means that would regulate them. It was then that a bright
official conversant with radio said: "Put 'em down below 200 meters, and
they'll soon die out."

He knew perfectly well that it was almost impossible to operate on those
low wave-lengths with the apparatus in existence at that time--hence his
sardonic proposal. The amateurs, however, refused to "die out." Faced
with the inexorable regulation, they set to work to devise apparatus which
would operate successfully. Among them was E. H. Armstrong, a youth who at
that time was attending Columbia.

It was a really lucky thing for the world that the official in Washington
thought of his clever scheme to kill the amateurs, because it provided
just the incentive needed to set Armstrong to work. The result has been
that within ten years he has produced three epoch-making inventions, any
one of which would have been a remarkable life achievement in itself.

Such, briefly is the story of one radio boy overcoming difficulties, but
of course in this case it is a real story. It emphasizes the fact that
even in these highly developed and organized times there is always an
opportunity for boys to improve upon existing conditions, and since this
is the theme of the adventures of "The Radio Boys," I am very glad to
write the foreword to the series.

[Signature: Jack Binns]

CONTENTS

CHAPTER                           PAGE
      I  The Collision               9
     II  To the Rescue              19
    III  At the Wireless Station    31
     IV  Radio Plans                46
      V  Back from the Beach        55
     VI  Radio's Long Arm           62
    VII  Learning to Send           69
   VIII  A Rattling Fight           77
     IX  Larry Reappears            85
      X  A Terrible Accident        94
     XI  Light Out of Darkness     102
    XII  A Glad Announcement       113
   XIII  Full of Promise           119
    XIV  An Impromptu Feast        125
     XV  Getting a Trial           135
    XVI  Speed                     144
   XVII  Vaulting Ambition         151
  XVIII  New Hope                  160
    XIX  Listening In              166
     XX  The Wonderful Science     173
    XXI  The Vanishing Crooks      178
   XXII  Broadcasting Marvels      185
  XXIII  The First Venture         197
   XXIV  Winning Out               204
    XXV  Solving the Mystery       215

THE RADIO BOYS AT THE SENDING STATION

CHAPTER I

THE COLLISION

"Isn't it a grand and glorious feeling?" exclaimed Bob Layton, a tall
stalwart lad of fifteen, as he stretched himself out luxuriously on the
warm sands of the beach at Ocean Point and pulled his cap a little further
over his eyes to keep out the rays of the sun.

"I'll tell the world it is," agreed Joe Atwood, his special chum, as he
burrowed lazily into the hollow he had scooped out for himself. "You don't
have to put up any argument to prove it, Bob. I admit it from the start."

"Same here," chimed in Herb Fennington, sprawled out in a fashion which if
certainly inelegant was quite as certainly comfortable. "Take it from me,
it's great. I could die loafing like this."

"Seems to be unanimous," remarked Bob, "although I haven't heard Jimmy's
musical voice mixing into the conversation and he's usually right there
with the talk. I wonder----"

Just then he was interrupted by a vigorous snore proceeding from a fourth
member of the group, a fat round-faced boy slightly younger than the
others, who was lying on his back a few feet away.

The boys broke into a laugh.

"There's the answer," chuckled Herb. "Trust Jimmy to go to sleep on the
slightest provocation. There's only one thing he can do better, and that
is eating."

"He sure is no slouch at either," laughed Joe. "The seven sleepers of
Ephesus had nothing on Jimmy. And if he went into a doughnut-eating
contest, I'd back him to my last dime."

"It's no wonder that's he's tired," said Bob, coming to the defense of the
unconscious Jimmy. "If either of you fellows had had the tussle he had
with the waves that night when he was hanging on to the broken bridge
expecting every minute to be his last, you wouldn't be feeling any too
lively, you can bet your boots."

"Right you are," admitted Herb. "That was a tough fight. It makes the cold
chills run up and down my back now when I think of it. I don't think
there'll be many times in Jimmy's life when he'll come so near death and
yet side-step it."

"You were pretty close to it yourself, Bob," put in Joe. "Your chances of
getting by didn't seem to be worth a plugged nickel. Of course you're
stronger than Jimmy and could have kept up longer if you'd been swept
away, but I don't believe there's any one living that could have bucked
that torrent."

"I'll admit that I felt mighty good when I got my feet on solid ground
again," said Bob. "There's no denying that that was a pretty strenuous
night, what with fighting the waves and Dan Cassey too. But we beat them
both and came through all right."

"Talking of Cassey," said Joe, "I saw the rascal this morning when I went
into the town to attend to a little business for my father. I wasn't far
from the jail and I dropped in to see just what arrangements had been made
for his trial. The warden was glad to see me--you know he's been pretty
strong for us since we saved the police the work of getting their claws on
Cassey--and as he was just about to make the rounds he asked me to go
along. So I had a chance to see Cassey behind the bars."

"I suppose he was glad to see you?" remarked Bob, with a grin.

"Tickled to death," laughed Joe. "I'm just as popular with him as poison
ivy. He got just purple with rage and shook the bars of his cell as
though he were trying to break them to get at me. He tried to tell me what
he thought of me, but he stuttered so much that he couldn't get it out. I
suppose he's stuttering yet."

"It's not surprising that he's sore at us," said Bob. "That's twice we've
put a spoke in his wheel; once when he tried to swindle Miss Berwick in
the matter of that mortgage and again when he blackjacked Harvey and
looted his safe. We sure have been a jinx for him."

"And he isn't the only one who has it in for us," said Joe, as he caught
sight of three boys of about their own age who were passing by, and who in
passing cast looks of dislike on the little group on the sands. "There's a
sweet bunch--I don't think."

The others followed the direction of Joe's glance and had no trouble in
agreeing with him.

"That Buck Looker is sure bad medicine," remarked Bob. "And Lutz and
Mooney who hang out with him are just about as bad. They're all tarred
with the same brush."

"They're a blot on the landscape--or perhaps I should say seascape," put
in Herb.

                     "Where every prospect pleases,
                     And only man is vile,"

chanted Joe. "Do you notice how everybody steers clear of them? Outside of
each other, not one of them has a friend in the whole colony."

"It's a wonder we haven't had a run in with them before this," ruminated
Herb.

"I guess Buck doesn't want any of our game," Joe rejoined. "He's already
had one licking from Bob, and it was only the butting in of Mr. Preston
that saved him from getting another one from me. But I have a hunch that
he'll get it yet. My knuckles are itching, and that's a bad sign--for
Buck."

"You'll get the chance all right," predicted Herb. "Ten to one they're
framing up some low-down game to play on us whenever they find an opening.
Maybe they'll try to put our radio set out of commission, just as they
stole Jimmy's set and tried to wreck Bob's aerial."

"They're welcome to try," said Bob carelessly. "Though they ought to be
cured of that idea when they remember how they flivvered the other times.
But talking of radio reminds me that we ought to get busy with that
lightning arrester we were talking about."

"What has lightning done that it ought to be arrested?" joked Herb.

For answer, Bob scooped up a handful of sand and threw it at the scoffer.
Herb ducked adroitly and the sand passed over his head and fell full on
Jimmy's mouth, which at the moment happened to be open.

There was a terrific coughing and sputtering, as Jimmy came up to a
sitting posture with a quickness that was quite foreign to his nature.

"Who--who the mischief did that?" he demanded, as soon as he could speak,
glaring indignantly from one to the other of his comrades, who at first
had been alarmed for fear he would choke but now were convulsed with
laughter.

"I did," confessed Bob, as he tried to restrain his untimely mirth. "But I
didn't mean to, old scout. Herb here had just gotten off one of his
horrible jokes, and I was trying to make the punishment fit the crime. I'm
awfully sorry."

"You look it," snorted Jimmy, still trying to get the remainder of the
sand out of his mouth. "You look as though your heart was broken, sitting
there and grinning like a monkey."

"Cross my heart and hope to die, I didn't mean to," declared Bob. "I
wouldn't have disturbed your innocent slumbers for anything in the
world."

"Never mind, Jimmy," put in Herb. "They say that every one has got to eat
a peck of dirt before they die, and you might as well start in early."

"I guess I got my whole peck then," grumbled Jimmy, as he rubbed his mouth
vigorously with his handkerchief. "I feel like a chicken with sand in its
craw."

"You ought to feel pretty good then," replied Herb, "for they eat it
because they like it."

"You're the cause of it all," said Jimmy. "When you try to be funny again,
do it when I'm not around. I'll bet the joke was a rotten one, anyway."

"Shall I tell it to you?" asked Herb hopefully.

"Not unless you're prepared to die," replied Jimmy, and Herb forebore to
add insult to injury.

"Now as to this lightning arrester," resumed Bob, leaving Jimmy to regain
his equanimity. "We've got to put it up, for the regulations require it
and we ought to have done it before."

Jimmy pricked up his ears but said nothing.

"I don't think there's really much need of it," objected Joe. "It's too
nice an afternoon to work. We've got a lightning rod on the cottage
anyway."

"It isn't so much for the cottage as the set," said Bob. "If the lightning
got into the receiving set it would make short work of it. Now here's the
kind of lightning switch we'll have to have," and he launched into an
earnest discussion of a type that was required by the radio regulations.

Jimmy took no part in the discussions, but they attributed this to a touch
of grouchiness and gave him time to get over it. Bob after a while
glanced at him, and saw that he wore a broad grin on his face.

"What's the joke, Jimmy?" he asked, a little suspiciously.

For only answer Jimmy broke into a peal of laughter.

"Of all the boobs," he chortled.

They looked at him and then at each other in bewilderment.

"Do you think the sun has affected his brain?" asked Herb, with affected
anxiety.

"It might have, if he had any brain to be affected," replied Joe, in the
same strain.

"Let us in on it, Jimmy," pleaded Bob. "Don't be selfish and keep it all
to yourself."

"Why, you thick heads," replied Jimmy, with more force than politeness,
"don't you know that you don't have to have a lightning arrester with a
loop aerial?"

There was a moment's silence while they let this sink in, and then a
sheepish grin stole into their faces.

"Sure enough," owned up Bob. "I knew that too, but I had forgotten it for
the time. I was thinking of the outdoor aerial. Of course on an indoor
aerial there's no need of a lightning arrester. Jimmy, I take off my hat
to you. As the leader of the lynching party said to the widow, after they
had lynched the wrong man, the joke's on us."

"I guess that evens things up," crowed Jimmy gleefully, his usual
good-humor completely restored. "To think of all that waste of good chin
music over nothing," he added mockingly.

"Don't rub it in," admonished Joe. "We'll admit that we're boobs and let
it go at that. Serves us right for thinking of working on a day like this,
anyway. Those people out there have the right idea," he continued,
pointing to a party in a rowboat some distance out from the shore.

"Wish we were out there with them," remarked Herb enviously, as his eyes
followed the boat, which had in it three persons, two boys and a girl.

"A sailboat would be good enough for me," put in Jimmy. "Rowing is too
much like work."

"Or better yet a motor boat like that one coming over from the right,"
said Herb. "In that thing the engine does all the work."

"Those fellows in the rowboat seem to be laboring pretty hard at the
oars," remarked Bob. "They don't seem to be any too expert, and the waves
are pretty rough since that wind sprang up."

"The reason they're pulling so hard is to get out of the way of that
motor boat," declared Joe. "It looks almost as though they were going to
run them down."

"There wouldn't be any excuse for that with the whole broad ocean to
maneuver in," commented Bob. "But, Great Scott!" he cried, jumping to his
feet. "That's just exactly what it's doing. Look! It's right on top of
them!"

The four boys watched with breathless interest the unfolding before their
eyes of what promised to be a tragedy.

The young men in the smaller boat were pulling like mad to get out of the
way of the motor boat bearing down upon them with undiminished speed. The
girl in the stern of the boat was wringing her hands and screaming.

Whether the two men in the motor boat failed to see the rowboat in their
path, or whether they were simply reckless and heartless, it was
impossible to tell. In any event, there was no shifting of the helm, no
slackening of speed. Swift and relentless as doom the motor craft drove
into the rowboat and crushed it like an eggshell.

CHAPTER II

TO THE RESCUE

There was a gasp of horror from the boys as they saw the three forms
struggling in the water amid the débris of the shattered rowboat.

"They'll be drowned!" shouted Bob, in an agony of apprehension.

"If they can only keep afloat until the motor boat picks them up,"
ejaculated Joe.

But to the consternation of the boys they saw that the motor boat
occupants had no intention of going to the rescue. It was not that the men
on the boat were not aware of the damage they had done. The boys could see
the figures of two men looking backward from the stern towards the people
struggling in the waves. But there was no halting of the speed of the
craft and it kept on like an arrow, as though it were a criminal bent only
on getting away from the scene of his crime.

A cry broke from the boys when this conviction was forced upon them. They
clenched their fists and shook them toward the retreating craft, while
fierce exclamations broke from their lips.

But there was no time for indulging in vain objurgations. Bob as usual
took the lead.

"Come along, fellows!" he shouted, as he set off like a deer towards a
rowboat that was pulled up on the beach. "We've got to save those people,
and every second counts. Hustle's the word!"

His companions were close on his heels, and without loss of time they had
reached the boat. In it were two pairs of oars. They pushed the boat down
the shelving beach into the surf and jumped aboard.

"Each one take an oar," commanded Bob. "Now pull, fellows, with all your
strength. Don't mind about the steering. I'll tend to that. Pull! Pull!"

They did not need any urging, and the boat, yielding to the impetus of
four pairs of arms, made rapid headway and had soon got beyond the
breakers. But the tide was setting toward the shore and the waves were
running high, while the wind was strong and against them. Filled with
anxiety as they were, it seemed to them that the boat was only creeping,
though they were putting their arms and their backs into the work and
pulling with every ounce of strength that they possessed.

Bob used his oar both for pulling and steering, and ever and again cast a
glance behind him to make sure of his course. He could see that the two
men had caught hold of a fragment of the boat and were trying to keep
afloat. The girl seemed to have fainted and was supported by the arm of
one of the men. As the waves rolled toward them, they tried to rise with
them, but often they were entirely submerged, and there was danger that at
any moment their hold might be torn from the slight fragment that alone
kept them afloat.

The need for haste was urgent, and Bob urged his comrades on with frantic
adjurations.

"Pull harder," he cried, himself setting the example. "Harder yet. Put all
you've got into each stroke. Harder! Harder!"

It seemed as though their hearts were being pulled out of their bodies,
but they summoned up all their strength for a final spurt that carried
them into the floating débris of the boat.

"Easy now," cried Bob, as he shipped his oar. "You, Herb and Jimmy, just
row enough to keep her head on. Joe, give me a hand."

He reached out and caught the arm of the lad who was supporting the girl.
While Bob held him fast, Joe reached over, took his helpless burden from
his arms, and lifted her into the boat. That done, they reached over and
helped the nearly exhausted youths into the boat with what aid they
themselves were able to render. They were too used up to talk, but their
eyes showed their gratitude.

"Well, that's that!" exclaimed Bob, heaving a sigh of heartfelt relief, as
he again took up his oar. "Now, fellows, it's us for the shore as soon as
we can get there. These people are all in and need first aid, especially
the girl. Let's go."

With tired arms and bodies but vastly lighter hearts, they bent to the
oars.

And while they are speeding over the waves with their burden, it may be
well, for the benefit of those who have not read the previous volumes of
this series, to tell who the radio boys were and what had been their
adventures up to the time this story opens.

Bob Layton was the son of a prosperous chemist living in the town of
Clintonia, a thriving community of about ten thousand population, situated
on the Shagary River in an Eastern state, about seventy-five miles from
New York. Bob had been born and brought up there, and was a general
favorite with the people of the town, especially the boys of his own age,
because of his sunny nature and frank, straightforward character. He was a
natural leader in all wholesome sports and a crack player on the school
baseball and football teams.

His special chum was Joe Atwood, a boy of about his own age and the son of
a leading doctor of the town. While both were tall, Joe was of a fair
complexion while Bob was dark, and the dissimilarity extended to other
things than mere appearance. Joe was impulsive and quick-tempered, and apt
to act on the spur of the moment, while Bob, although never shirking
trouble or a fight if it came his way, was more self-controlled. But their
points of likeness were more numerous than their points of difference, and
they were the warmest of friends. Where one was to be found the other was
usually not far off.

Closely associated with them were Herb Fennington and Jimmy Plummer,
slightly younger but nearly enough of an age to be good comrades. Jimmy
was round and fat and fond of good living, a trait which had earned him
the nickname of "Doughnuts." Herb was rather easy-going and fond of
telling jokes, of which he always had a stock in store.

In one way or another the four friends frequently came into conflict with
Buck Looker, the bully of the town, and his two boon companions, Carl Lutz
and Terry Mooney, who were of the same stripe, though they deferred to
Buck as their leader.

Ever since the wonderful new science of radio had come into such
worldwide prominence, Bob and his friends had been intensely interested in
it. That interest had been fostered by the stimulating advice and
information given them by Dr. Amory Dale, the pastor of the old First
Church of Clintonia. How they had made their own receiving sets in
competition for the prize offered by the member of Congress for their
district; the difficulties they surmounted and the triumphs they achieved;
how Buck and his gang sought to wreck and steal their sets and the
thrashing Buck received in consequence; how by the agency of the radio
they were able to detect a swindler, one, Dan Cassey, and force him to
make restitution to Nellie Berwick, an orphan girl he had tried to cheat;
all this and many more exciting adventures are told in the first book of
this series, entitled: "The Radio Boys' First Wireless; Or, Winning the
Ferberton Prize."

The winning of the prizes, the first by Bob and the second by Joe, with
honorable mention for Jimmy, was a spur to fresh efforts in mastering the
wonders of radio. This they carried out at Ocean Point, a seashore resort,
at which they spent their vacation. How they advanced to the use of the
vacuum tube receiving set from their first crystal set; their experiences
in the wireless room of a seashore station; their narrow escape from death
on the night of a roaring gale; how, under the stress of need, they were
able to send a message to the ship on which relatives and friends were
voyaging and bring other ships to their aid; how they tracked down and
captured the rascal Cassey after he had assaulted and robbed their friend
Brandon Harvey, the wireless operator; these things are narrated in the
second volume of this series entitled: "The Radio Boys at Ocean Point; Or,
The Message That Saved the Ship."

With the radio boys pulling hard at the oars, it was only a matter of a
few minutes before they had made their way through the breakers and
reached the shore. There they jumped out and shoved the rowboat up on the
beach.

The youths whom they had rescued and who seemed only little older than
themselves had by this time partially recovered from their exhaustion and
were able to get out themselves, although they were very shaky on their
legs. The girl had regained consciousness, but was not able to walk, and
the boys debated just what they should do.

Quite a crowd that had watched the rescue from the beach were on hand to
greet and congratulate them and offers of help were plentiful. But Dr.
Atwood, Joe's father, who had taken a day off from his extensive practice
to spend it with his family at the Point, solved the problem.

"Bring the girl up to my cottage," he directed. "I'll give her the
necessary treatment and then Mrs. Atwood can take charge of her until
she's sufficiently recovered to be taken home. I'll give you boys
something too that will counteract the effects of the shock and strain
you've been under, and you'll be all right in a little while."

The boys picked up the girl and carried her to the Atwood cottage that was
only a little distance away. Rose Atwood together with Agnes and Amy
Fennington, who had come over and were all interest and attention,
recognized her as Mary Rockwell, a girl whom they had met at the dance
which the radio boys had given, getting the music over the radio set from
a broadcasting station. Together with Mrs. Atwood, they gave her all
possible care after the doctor had given her a sedative, and word was sent
over to her people assuring them of her safety.

In the meanwhile the rescued lads, after they had been looked over by the
doctor and given a slight stimulant, had been borne off bodily by Bob and
the other radio boys to the cottage of Bob's parents, where they sat on
the veranda while supper was being prepared, for Bob had given them a
cordial invitation to take supper and spend the evening with them.

As they were about the size of Bob and Joe, the latter had furnished them
with extra suits of their own clothes while their drenched garments were
taken in charge by Mrs. Layton to be dried and pressed.

And now for the first time the new acquaintances were able to take a good
look at each other. What they saw pleased them mutually.

One of the boys was slender and agile, with frank, honest eyes and a
friendly smile that was almost constantly in evidence. His hair was brown
and wavy and his complexion naturally fair, though it was at the moment
tanned by the sun and sea air. There was not an ounce of superfluous flesh
on his body, and he gave the impression of being a trained athlete.

The other had a humorous face that betrayed Irish ancestry, which was
emphasized by the merest touch of a brogue when he talked. His hair was
red and his face freckled, and there was something about him that was
extremely likable and made the boys warm to him at once.

"We haven't had a chance to learn each other's names yet," said Bob, with
a smile, as the party settled comfortably into the veranda seats. "And
that's not surprising either," he added, "for we've been pretty busy since
the first moment we met. This is the first chance we've had to draw our
breaths. My name is Bob Layton, and these pals of mine are Joe Atwood,
Herb Fennington and Jimmy Plummer, the latter the greatest doughnut eater
in captivity."

"And our handles are Larry Bartlett and Tim Barcommon," said the taller of
the two newcomers, as they laughingly acknowledged the introductions. "And
before we do anything else we want to tell you fellows how grateful we are
for the way you came to our help. It would have been all up for us if you
hadn't."

"Yes," chimed in Tim, "we'll never forget it as long as we live. It was a
mighty plucky thing for you fellows to pull out in the sea that was
running. The sight of you coming was the only thing that helped me to hold
on. I was just about all in when you reached us. You certainly sent that
old boat spinning along."

"Oh, that was nothing," disclaimed Bob. "We just happened to be on the
spot. Any one else would have done the same thing."

"But you notice nobody else did do it," replied Larry. "There were lots of
other people on the beach that saw the accident, but you were the only
ones that did the hustling. It was a case of quick thinking as well as
plucky acting, and we owe our lives to you. I only hope that some time
we'll be able to do something that will show you how we appreciate it."

"What gets me," put in Joe, "was the heartless way those fellows in the
motor boat acted. They were simply brutes. They ought to have their necks
wrung."

"Yes," said Herb. "There was no excuse for their running you down in the
first place. But after they'd done it, the least they could have done was
to turn their boat around and pick you up. We took it for granted that
that was what they would do, and we couldn't believe our eyes when we saw
them keep on. Those fellows are nothing less than murderers."

"I guess you're about right," replied Larry. "We counted, too, on their
picking us up, and our only thought was to hold on to any floating thing
we could grab until they could get to us. And when we saw that they
weren't going to, we just about gave up hope. Both Tim and I are pretty
good swimmers, and if we'd been alone might have reached the shore. But
there was the girl, and with the water as rough as it was we had a pretty
slim chance of bringing her in, so it was a case of living or dying
together. And it would have been dying sure enough, if you hadn't happened
to be on the beach this afternoon.

"It would have been especially hard," he continued, "if the girl had been
drowned when she was out on our invitation and under our protection. As
for ourselves, it would not have mattered so much. She is an awfully nice
girl, and her family and mine have been acquainted for years. My mother
and hers used to go to school together. I hadn't any idea she was down
here when I decided to spend a couple of weeks at Ocean Point, but you can
imagine how surprised and delighted I was to find that she and her folks
were stopping at the same hotel I had picked out. She was a little afraid
of the water, but yielded when we urged her to come out for a row, and we
were all having a dandy time until that motor boat come along and spoiled
everything."

"And think of what the world would have lost if we'd been among the
missing," said Tim, with a grin. "No more exhibitions of the Canary Bird
Snake, otherwise known as Larry Bartlett."

"Or of the famous buck wing and clog dancer, otherwise known as Tim
Barcommon," laughed Larry.

The radio boys looked at each other in some perplexity.

"I don't quite get you," said Bob.

AT THE WIRELESS STATION

"Why, it's this way," explained Larry. "We are vaudeville performers.
Tim's specialty is dancing, and I can tell you, because he's too modest to
say it himself, that he's a peach. Whenever he appears, he just knocks
them off their seats. He's a riot."

"Cut it out," protested Tim. "Leave that to the press agent."

"It's straight goods, just the same," declared Larry. "As for little me,
I've got a knack of twisting myself into knots, and then, too, I do a
little whistling. And because of that they call me on the posters and in
the theater programs the Canary Bird Snake. Kind of mixed up, isn't it?"

The radio boys were tremendously interested. The stage had for them the
touch of mystery and glamour that appeals to youth, and it was an unusual
treat for them to be talking on familiar terms with characters such as
they had only seen hitherto in the glare of the footlights.

"It must be great," said Bob, "to go all over the country as you do and
see all there is to be seen."

"Oh, like everything else, theatrical life has its ups and downs," replied
Larry. "It's all right when they hand you applause, but not such fun when
they throw eggs, especially if the eggs are old. We've never had that
experience yet though, and here's hoping that we never shall. There's lots
of hard work connected with it, and Tim and I have to work a good many
hours each day to keep ourselves in trim. Then, too, when you're playing
one night stands and have to get up before daylight to catch a train,
which in rube towns often turns out to be just a caboose attached to a
freight, it isn't any fun. And it's less fun when you happen to get snowed
in for a day or two, as has happened to us several times. But you get paid
for all that when your turn goes big and the audience is friendly and
gives you a good hand. Oh, it isn't all peaches and cream, but take it
altogether we have a pretty good time."

"That is, when we're working," put in Tim. "It isn't much fun though when
the ghost doesn't walk every Saturday night."

The boys looked a little puzzled and Larry undertook to enlighten them.

"Tim means when the pay check doesn't happen to come along," he said. "In
other words, when we're out of a job. You see we're both pretty young in
the profession and we aren't as well known as we hope to be later on. We
have to take what we can get on the small-time circuits, and we know that
if we make good there we'll get on the big-time circuit sooner or later.
Just now things are slack in the theatrical line as they always are in
summer. We've got our lines out for a job in the fall, but nothing
definite has come of it yet. So we thought we'd come down to the seashore
for a few weeks and get a little of the sea air into our lungs."

"But we didn't figure on getting as much sea water into our stomachs as we
did this afternoon," laughed Tim. "I can taste it yet. I don't think I'll
want any salt on my victuals for a month to come."

Just then Mrs. Layton appeared and announced that supper was ready, and
they all obeyed the call with alacrity, Bob's chums being included in the
invitation.

The meal was excellent, as Mrs. Layton's always were, and there was a
great deal of jollity as it progressed. Larry was very droll and kept the
boys in roars of laughter as he told of some of the funny incidents in his
experience, and Tim was not far behind him.

After the meal was over, nothing would do but that Larry and Tim should go
through some of their performances for the entertainment of the company.
This they did, and though they were handicapped by the absence of the
usual stage properties, Larry not having his stage suit with him and Tim
being without his clog dancing pumps, the spectators were delighted. Larry
tied himself into a mystifying tangle of knots, and his whistling was so
sweet and melodious that it roused his audience to the heights of
enthusiasm. And Tim's graceful dancing was a revelation of the
possibilities of the Terpsichorean art.

Then the radio boys took their turn and gave their visitors a radio
concert that was wonderful in its variety and beauty. The night happened
to be unusually free of the annoying static that is the bugbear of the
wireless, and every note of the music was as clear and sweet as though the
performers were only a few yards away. Tim and Larry listened as though
they were entranced, and when the concert was finished they were as
enthusiastic "fans" as the radio boys themselves.

"It's simply wonderful!" exclaimed Larry. "It's the first time I've ever
had the chance to 'listen in,' but you can bet it won't be the last."

"I'll tell you what," proposed Bob. "We're going over to the wireless
sending station to-morrow morning to see the operator there, Mr. Harvey.
He's the finest kind of a fellow, and he'll be glad to see you. Suppose
you and Tim come along with us."

"Surest thing you know!" ejaculated Larry, and Tim acquiesced with equal
enthusiasm.

They parted for the night with a feeling on both sides of warm liking and
esteem and a looking forward to a most enjoyable time on the following
day.

The next morning the radio boys set out shortly after breakfast, met Larry
and Tim at a point previously agreed upon, and together took their way
toward the wireless station.

Mr. Harvey was alone when they entered, and jumped to his feet with hands
extended in greeting and a face beaming with welcome.

"What good wind blew you over here?" he exclaimed, as he shook their hands
heartily.

"We came because we wanted to see you, and also because we wanted to show
our friends here something of the way the wireless works," said Bob.

He introduced Larry and Tim and Mr. Harvey welcomed them so warmly that
they felt at once at home.

"So these are the young men you boys pulled out of the water yesterday,"
he said. "It's mighty lucky for them that you happened to be around."

"I'll say it was," agreed Larry, and Tim nodded vigorously.

"How did you happen to hear of it?" asked Bob.

"Hear of it?" Brandon Harvey repeated. "All the beach is ringing with it.
All the hotels are buzzing with it. If you'll look at the morning papers
from the city, you'll find they all have a full account of it with
comments on the pluck and presence of mind of the fellows who did it. You
can't get away with that stuff without having it known, no matter how
modest you are."

"Making lots of fuss about a trifle," muttered Bob.

"Trifle," laughed Harvey. "Just the same kind of a trifle as that you
pulled off the night you saved the ship and captured the man who had
knocked me out. Have they told you about that?" he asked, turning to Larry
and Tim.

"Not a word," replied Larry.

"Never breathed it," declared Tim.

"Just like them," asserted Brandon Harvey, and then went on to tell them
of that dreadful night when the storm was raging; how they had found him
knocked senseless on the floor and the safe looted; how they had sent the
signals that had saved the ship from destruction; how they had pursued
the robber and captured him after a hand to hand tussle and recovered the
loot.

"Well, now about the wireless," interposed Bob, anxious to change the
subject. "These friends of ours are a new addition to the army of fans and
we want to put them next to some of the wonders of radio."

"It's a great army all right," laughed Harvey, "and we're always glad to
welcome new recruits. They're coming into the ranks by thousands every
day. Nobody can keep count of them, but they must run into the millions.

"And they're great in quality as well as quantity," he continued, warming
to his favorite subject. "The President of the United States has a radio
receiving set on his desk. There's one in the office of every one of the
ten Cabinet members. The Secretary of the Navy is sending out wireless
messages every day to vessels scattered in all parts of the globe. The
head of the army is keeping in touch by radio with every fort and garrison
and corps area in the United States. On last Arbor Day the Secretary of
Agriculture talked over the radio to more people than ever heard an
address in the history of the world. But there," he said, breaking off
with a laugh, "if I once get going on this line I'll never know when to
stop. So I'll say it all in one sentence--the radio is the most wonderful
invention ever conceived by the mind of man."

"You don't need to prove it to us," laughed Bob. "It's simply a miracle,
and we become more convinced of that every day. I'm mighty glad I was born
in this age of the world."

The boys crowded around Mr. Harvey as he explained to Larry and Tim in as
simple a way as possible the radio apparatus of the station.

"When I press this key," he said, "an electrical spark is sent up into the
antenna, the big wire that you see suspended from the mast over the
station, and is flung out into space."

"Travels pretty fast, doesn't it?" asked Larry, to whom all this was new.

"Rather," laughed Mr. Harvey. "It can go seven and a half times around the
world while you are striking a match."

"What!" exclaimed Larry incredulously. "Why, the circle of the earth is
about twenty-five thousand miles."

"Exactly," smiled Harvey. "And that spark travels at the rate of one
hundred and eighty-six thousand miles a second."

"You're sure you don't mean feet instead of miles?" suggested Tim
dubiously.

"It's miles all right," laughed Harvey. "Electricity travels at the same
rate as the light that comes to us from the sun and stars."

"What becomes of this electrical impulse after it gets started on that
quick trip?" asked Larry. "How does the fellow on the other end get what
you're trying to tell him."

"That fellow or that station has another antenna waiting to receive my
message," replied Harvey. "The signal keeps on going through the ether
until it strikes that other antenna. Then it climbs along it until it
reaches the receiving set and registers the same kind of dot or dash as
the one I made at this end. It's like the pitcher and catcher of a
baseball battery. One pitches the ball and the other receives the same
ball. At one instant it's in the pitcher's hand and the next it has
traveled the space between the two and is resting in the catcher's hand.
Sounds simple, doesn't it?"

"Sounds simple when you put it that way," laughed Larry. "But I have a
hunch that it isn't as simple as it sounds."

"Well, to tell the truth, it isn't quite as simple as that," confessed
Harvey. "There's a whole lot to learn about receiving and transmitting and
detectors and generators and condensers and vacuum tubes and all that. But
my point is that there's nothing of the really essential things that are
concerned in getting entertainment and instruction from radio that can't
be learned with a little application by any one of ordinary
intelligence."

"I wonder if I'm in that class," said Larry quizzically, and there was a
general laugh.

Another half hour was spent with great profit and interest in the sending
station and then the boys arose to go.

"How are you getting along with that regenerative set?" asked Mr. Harvey
of Bob.

"Pretty well, thank you," answered Bob. "It's the proper adjusting of the
tickler that's giving me the most trouble."

"Be careful not to increase it too far," warned Harvey. "If you do, the
vacuum tube oscillates and becomes a small generator of high frequency
current and in that way will interfere with other near-by stations. Then,
too, the speeches and music will be mushy instead of being clear. Drop in
again when you have time and we'll talk the matter over a little
further."

The visitors bade their host farewell and trooped out into the bright
sunshine. Larry and Tim were enthusiastic over the new world into which
they had been introduced.

"The most wonderful thing in the world," was their verdict.

They spent the rest of the morning on the beach, and before they parted,
Larry had secured a promise from the radio boys to come over to a dance
that was to be held the next night at the hotel where he and Tim were
stopping.

"Jolliest kind of fellows, aren't they?" said Joe.

"They sure are," agreed Herb. "I should think that free and easy life of
theirs would be just one round of enjoyment."

"I wouldn't exactly say that," remarked Bob. "Two or three times I have
noticed a look of worry in Larry's eyes as though something were weighing
on his mind."

This arrow, shot at a venture, was indeed correct, for Larry was far from
being as care free as the boys imagined. The fact that he was out of work
at present worried him, naturally. But this would have but little weight
with him had it not been for his sick mother at home. That mother had
worked for years in his behalf, following the death of his father, whose
affairs were so involved at his death that there was little money left to
support his wife and child. The mother had kept up a brave heart, however,
and done the best she could for herself and her idolized son. The strain
of being both bread-winner and mother had told, however, and now she was
in ill health. Larry, since he had entered upon a profession, had sent to
her all that he possibly could in order to maintain her in comfort, but
just now the source of supply had stopped and there was no knowing at
what time it would be resumed. He knew that his mother had very little
money on hand at the time, and her condition of health made Larry her only
resource.

The radio boys kept their engagement, and the dance was a jolly affair at
which they enjoyed themselves thoroughly. The only drawback to a perfect
evening was the fact that Buck Looker and Carl Lutz were there also, but
this did not bother them much in the early part of the evening.

The last dance had just been concluded and the ardent dancers were
clamoring for one more encore, when a disturbance rose at one end of the
room that attracted general attention. The radio boys hurried to the spot
in question to find Buck and Lutz talking excitedly while Larry and Tim
were standing near them with flushed and indignant faces. The manager of
the hotel and a house detective were also in the group.

"I tell you that those are the fellows who did it," Buck was vociferating,
while he pointed to Larry and Tim. "They were the ones closest to me when
I missed my watch and stickpin, and I had just looked at my watch the
minute before. If you search them you'll find the goods on them. My friend
here lost his at the same time."

"It's false!" cried Larry.

"If there weren't ladies here, I'd cram the story down your throat!"
exclaimed Tim, his eyes blazing.

"That's a serious charge you're making, young man," said the manager to
Buck.

"They've got them," said Buck sullenly. "Search them and you'll find I'm
right."

"See here," cried Larry. "If this fellow were the only one concerned I
wouldn't condescend to satisfy him. But I have some friends here,"
indicating the radio boys, "and for their sakes I'm going to establish my
innocence beyond any doubt. Come right in to one of the private rooms here
and search me thoroughly. As for this fellow," glaring at Buck, "I'll
settle with him at another time."

The party adjourned to a room, and a thorough search resulted in showing
that none of the missing articles was on Larry or Tim.

"Now I'll settle with you," cried Larry, making a rush at Buck. But he was
restrained by the house detective who held him while Buck and his crony
slunk away.

The radio boys gathered around their new friends and condoled with them
over the unfounded accusation.

"He'll pay me for that yet," declared Larry, who had been wrought up to a
high pitch of excitement.

"Here's hoping you'll get a hack at him," said Joe. "Did you notice that
there wasn't a word of apology for having made a false charge against
you?"

"Did you ever know him to do a decent thing?" asked Bob scornfully.
"That's Buck Looker to a dot."

The next morning Bob was over at Joe's bungalow when Mr. and Mrs. Rockwell
called with Mary to thank the Atwoods for the care they had given Mary
when she was brought from the water, and also to express their gratitude
to the boys, whose quickness and resource had saved her life.

Mary, a pretty girl, had entirely recovered, and was profuse in her thanks
to Bob and Joe, which were echoed by her parents, who laid so much stress
upon their bravery that the boys blushed to the ears.

"You are making altogether too much of it," Bob protested, and Joe
agreed.

"It is impossible to do that," said Mr. Rockwell, and Mrs. Rockwell nodded
her head vigorously.

"The only thing I am sorry about," said Bob, "is that we have not been
able to catch the fellows in the motor boat who ran the rowboat down. They
ought to be sent to jail on the double quick."

"It turns out," said Mr. Rockwell, "that they were not only heartless
brutes, but thieves as well. We found out yesterday that the boat had been
stolen from Mr. Wentworth, who is one of the guests at the hotel where we
are stopping. They left an old rowboat in its place. Mr. Wentworth has put
the police on the track of the thieves, but as yet nothing has been heard
of them. I am afraid they have made good their escape."

"I only hope," declared Bob, "that I may live long enough to get my hands
on the throat of one or both of them."

"I'd like that privilege," returned Mr. Rockwell warmly, "but I am afraid
the chances are slim. They may be hundreds of miles away by this time."

"Well," said Joe, "the arm of the law is long and it may reach them yet."

"Here's hoping," said Bob.

CHAPTER IV

RADIO PLANS

Shortly after the unfortunate affair at the dance Larry and Tim came to
the Layton bungalow, overjoyed at a letter they had just received.

"Bob, our streak of bad luck must be broken at last," exulted Larry. "It
was beginning to look like the bread line for ours, but now maybe we'll be
able to eat heartily again."

"You don't look very hungry just at present," grinned Bob. "But what does
it say in that letter that you're waving around, anyway?"

"We've got an engagement, at last," put in Tim. "And, oh, boy! make out it
doesn't seem like money from home!"

"Well, that's certainly fine," said Bob, heartily.

"It's with Chasson's vaudeville show," explained Larry. "It's a traveling
show, and we probably won't show more than one or two nights in a town. Of
course, it isn't as swell an outfit as we would like to connect up with,
but it will keep the wolf from the door for a little while."

"It will tide us over until we can hook up with something classier,
anyway," said Tim. "The chances are we'll play in all the towns around
this part of the country, and if we land in the one you fellows live in,
we'll expect you to applaud our act harder than any of the others, no
matter how bad we are." And he grinned.

"If you come to Clintonia, you can bet we'll give you the glad hand, all
right," promised Bob. "I suppose we all get free passes, don't we?" with a
twinkle in his eye.

"You'd get all you want if Tim and I had the say-so," said Larry, "but the
manager probably won't be able to see it that way."

"Some day we'll have a show of our own, maybe," said Tim. "Then we'll give
you all passes, you can bet your boots on that."

"Don't try to hold your breath until then, though," said Larry. "The way
things are breaking for us lately, we'll be more likely to be inviting our
friends to come and visit us in the poorhouse."

                   "Over the hills to the poorhouse,
                   It's not so far away,
                   We may get there to-morrow,
                   If we don't get there to-day,"

chanted Tim, immediately afterward breaking into a lively jig to express
his indifference to that mournful possibility.

"Well, if you ever do land in that cheerful place, you'll be very
popular," laughed Bob. "But now that you've both got an engagement, you
won't have to worry about that for some time to come. I know the other
fellows will be glad to hear about it, too. They went down to town this
morning, but they ought to be back pretty soon now. Stick around till they
come, and we'll tell them the glad news."

"Surest thing you know," acquiesced Larry. "We don't have to report to
Chasson until day after to-morrow, anyway. How's the wireless coming along
these days?"

"Fine and dandy," responded Bob. "After we get back to Clintonia we intend
to build some big sets so that we can receive signals from all over the
country."

"But where do you get all the money to buy that stuff?" asked Larry. "Some
of it must be pretty expensive, isn't it?"

"Not as expensive as you might think, although some of the apparatus, like
audion bulbs, certainly run into money," replied Bob. "But we can easily
sell the apparatus that we already have, and make enough on that to buy
the new things with. There are plenty of people ready and anxious to buy
our sets, because we can sell them for less than the store would charge,
and they work as well or better than some store sets."

"Who's talking of selling our sets?" broke in a well-known voice, as Joe,
Herb and Jimmy came, pellmell, into the room.

"I was," said Bob, in answer to Jimmy's question. "I was thinking of
selling your set to the junkman, for what it would bring."

"Huh!" exclaimed Jimmy, indignantly. "I'll bet a junkman wouldn't even buy
yours. He'd expect you to pay him to take it away."

"Say, you fellows must have a high opinion of each other's radio outfits,"
broke in Tim, laughing. "But if you want to give one away, here's Tiny
Tim, ready and waiting."

"No chance," said Jimmy, positively. "I worked too many hot nights on mine
to give it away now, and I guess Bob thinks he'd like to keep his, too,
even though it isn't really much good."

"It was good enough to take the Ferberton prize, anyway, which is more
than some people can say of theirs," Bob replied, grinning. "How about it,
Doughnuts?"

"That was because the judges didn't know any better," said his rotund
friend. "They should have made me the judge, and then there's no doubt but
what my set would have won that hundred bucks."

"We can believe that easily enough," laughed Larry. "But you radio bugs
forget your hobby for a few minutes and listen to the glad news," and then
he told them about the engagement he and Tim had secured.

All the boys congratulated them on their good fortune, and after some
further conversation the two actors departed, first promising to drop in
for a visit before going away to start their engagement.

"I like those two fellows first rate, and would be mighty glad to see them
succeed," said Bob, after they had gone. "It seems to me they ought to
make a big hit, too. They're a regular riot all the time they're with
us."

"Yes, they're certainly funny," agreed Joe. "What were you telling them
about selling our sets, just as we came in?"

"Oh, I was just saying that we could get money to buy new apparatus,
audion bulbs, and that sort of expensive stuff, by selling one or two of
the sets we've got now, and whacking up the proceeds," said Bob. "My dad
spoke of that last evening, and it struck me as a mighty good idea. I know
of several people in Clintonia who would like nothing better than to have
a good set, and having made them ourselves, we can sell them cheaper than
the stores, and still make money on them."

"Say, that's a pretty good stunt," said Joe. "I was trying to figure out
the other day where we could get the necessary cash. The cheapest audion
bulb you can buy costs about three dollars."

The other boys, also, were pleased with this idea, and said so. They
agreed to sell two of their sets as soon as they got back to Clintonia.
This was their last week at Ocean Point, for the fall term of the high
school started the following Monday, and they were to leave Ocean Point on
Saturday.

"It will be pretty hard to bone down to lessons again, after a summer like
this, but I suppose there's no help for it," said Jimmy, mournfully. "I
feel as though I'd forgotten all I ever knew."

"That isn't much, so you don't need to worry about it," said Joe, with
pleasing frankness.

"I suppose you think you're a regular Solomon, don't you?" retorted Jimmy.
"Nobody else does, though, I can tell you that."

"Quit your scrapping," admonished Herb. "You don't either of you know a
single good joke, while I'm just full of wit and humor. Why, here's a joke
I thought up just the other day, and I don't mind admitting that it's a
pippin, not to say peacherino. I thought it up while I was watching some
fellows play tennis, and I just know you're all crazy to hear it."

"We'd have to be crazy to want to hear it," said Bob. "But probably
you'll feel better after you get it out of your system, so fire ahead, and
we'll do our best to stand the strain."

"This won't be any strain; it will be a pleasure," said Herb. "Now, this
joke is in the form of a humorous question and an even more humorous
answer. Oh, it's a wonder, I'll say."

"We'll say something, too, if you don't hurry up and get the agony over
with," threatened Joe. "Make it snappy, before we weaken under the strain
and throw you out the window."

"Well, then," said Herb: "Why does the tennis ball? And the answer is:
Because the catgut on the racquet." And he broke into a peal of laughter,
in which, however, his friends refused to join.

"Well, what's the matter?" asked Herb, cutting short his laughter as he
saw that the others only shook their heads despondently. "Why in the name
of all that's good don't you laugh? Wasn't that a peach of a joke?"

"Herb, the only reason we don't kill you right away is because you will be
punished more by being allowed to live and suffer," said Bob. "That was a
fierce joke."

"Oh, get out!" exclaimed Herb, in an injured tone. "You fellows don't know
a clever joke when you hear it."

"Likely enough we don't," admitted Joe. "We don't get much chance to hear
clever jokes while you're around."

"Oh, well, if you don't like my jokes, why don't you think up some of your
own?" asked Herb, in an aggrieved tone. "There's no law against it, you
know."

"There ought to be, though," put in Jimmy.

"Oh, what do you know about it?" asked Herb, incensed at the laughter that
followed this thrust. "All you can think of, Doughnuts, is what you're
going to get to eat when the next meal time comes around."

"Well, I enjoy thinking of that so much, that I'd be foolish to think of
anything else," said Jimmy, serenely.

"You win, Jimmy," said Bob, as he and Joe shouted with laughter at Herb's
discomfiture. The latter was inclined to be sulky at first, but he soon
forgot his ill humor, and was as gay as the others as they discussed their
plans for the fall and winter months.

Contrary to the predictions of some of their neighbors in Clintonia, their
enthusiasm for radio work had increased rather than diminished, and they
were anxious to become the possessors of sets capable of hearing any
station in the United States, and perhaps even the large foreign stations.
Of course, this meant that their apparatus would have to be much more
intricate and expensive than any they had constructed hitherto, but the
realization of this did not deter them. On the contrary, the thought that
the task would be one to tax their skill and knowledge to the utmost only
served to make them more eager to begin. They examined numberless
catalogues and circulars in an effort to determine where and at what cost
they could obtain their necessary supplies, jotting down notes as they
went along. By supper time they had acquired a pretty good idea of what
their new equipment would cost, and were pleased to find that it came
within the amount that they thought they could get by selling two of their
present complete sets.

"Well, then," said Bob, in conclusion, as they heard the supper bell ring,
"the first thing we do when we get back home will be to sell the two sets,
and then we'll get busy on making the new ones."

With this the others agreed.

CHAPTER V

BACK FROM THE BEACH

"Good-bye, old bungalows, we hate to leave you. Here's hoping we see you
again next summer."

It was Herb speaking, as the radio boys and their families left the group
of cottages where all had spent such an eventful and pleasant summer.
Brilliant sunlight beat down on the yellow sand, but its heat was very
different from the torrid rays that had kept them running to the ocean to
cool off all that summer. There was a clear and sparkling appearance to
the air and sky, and the wind that came sweeping over the level sands had
a nip in it that made even Jimmy walk fast to keep warm.

They were to return home by train instead of automobile, and all the
ladies had gone to the station in the big motor omnibus, but the boys had
preferred to walk, as the distance was not great and there was still
plenty of time before the train was due.

"We've had a wonderful time here, there's no doubt of that," said Bob,
commenting on Herb's apostrophe to the bungalows. "But it will seem nice
to get home again, too. I've almost forgotten what the old town looks
like."

"It will seem good to see the old bunch at High once more, too," added
Joe. "I'll bet there aren't many of them have had the fun that we've had
ever since we landed at Ocean Point."

"Not only that, but we've learned a lot, too," said Bob. "We were running
in luck when we met Mr. Harvey and had the run of that big station. It was
a wonderful opportunity."

"You bet it was," agreed Herb. "It's a wonderful place to think up jokes
in, too. I don't think I ever thought of so many good ones in a single
summer before."

"I didn't know you thought of any good ones," said Joe. "All those that we
heard were punk. Why didn't you tell us some of the good ones for a
change?"

"So I did, you poor boob," retorted Herb. "My one regret here was that we
didn't have a sending set. Then I could have broadcasted some of those
jokes, and everybody could have had the benefit of them free of charge."

"It would have to be free of charge," said Jimmy, cruelly. "You don't
suppose anybody would pay real money to hear that low brand of humor, do
you?"

"Chances are they'd pay real money _not_ to hear them," put in Joe, before
Herb could answer. "But I suppose if Herb ever started anything like that
the Government would take away his license before he could do much harm."

"Never mind," said Herb resignedly. "You can knock all you want now, but
when I get to be rich and famous, like Mark Twain, for instance, you'll be
sorry that you were so dumb that you couldn't appreciate me sooner."

"Well, we won't have to worry until you are rich and famous, and that
probably won't be for a year or two yet," said Bob. "But here we are at
the station. They all look glad to see us. I'll bet they were afraid we
wouldn't get here in time."

This was indeed the case, as was evidenced by much gesturing and waving of
parasols and handkerchiefs by the feminine members of the party. They had
heard the whistle of the train in the distance, and had firmly persuaded
themselves that the boys would be delayed and lose the train. As it turned
out, however, the boys had plenty of time, and were on the platform and
waiting as the engine puffed into the station.

As the train pulled out, they all gazed back regretfully at the little
village that had become so familiar to them. Many of the shops were closed
and shuttered for the season, and the main street wore a deserted air.
However, as the train rounded a curve and the village was lost to view,
they regained their usual spirits.

"It's a wonder you boys didn't miss the train altogether," said Agnes,
Herb's sister. "I don't see why you didn't hurry a little. We were on pins
and needles all the time until you showed up."

"Aw, what's the use of standing on an old station platform for an hour and
spending your time wondering why the train doesn't show up?" said Herb.
"We could have left the bungalows ten minutes later and still caught the
train. I don't enjoy riding on a train unless I've had to run to get it,
anyway."

"If this train had been on time, you would have had a fast run to get it,
I can tell you," said Amy, Agnes' younger sister. "It was about fifteen
minutes late, and that's the only reason you got it at all."

"Oh, we could run almost as fast as this train goes, anyway," boasted her
brother. "And speaking of slow trains, that reminds me of a good story I
read the other day."

"Oh, please tell us about it," said Agnes, with mock enthusiasm. "You know
we always love to hear your jokes, brother dear."

Herb glanced suspiciously at her, but was too glad of an opportunity to
tell his story to inquire into her sincerity.

"It seems there was a man traveling on a southern railroad----" he began,
but Jimmy interrupted him.

"Which railroad?" he inquired.

"It doesn't matter which railroad," said Herb, glaring at his friend. "It
was a railroad, anyway, and a slow one, too. Well, this man was in a
hurry, it seems, and kept fidgeting around and looking at his watch.
Finally the train stopped altogether, and a moment later the conductor
came through the car.

"'What's the matter, Conductor?' asked the traveler.

"'There's a cow on the track,' answered the conductor.

"Well, pretty soon the train started on again, but it hadn't gone very far
before it stopped once more. 'Say, Conductor, why in blazes have we
stopped again?' asked the traveler. 'Seems to me this is the slowest train
I ever rode on.'

"'It can't be helped, sir,' answered the conductor. 'We've caught up with
that pesky cow again.'"

They all laughed at this anecdote, which pleased Herb immensely.

"I know lots more, any time you want to hear them," he ventured,
hopefully.

"Better not take a chance on spoiling that one, Herb," advised Joe. "That
was unusually good for you, I must admit."

"Herb's jokes wouldn't be so bad if he'd stick to regular ones," said Bob.
"It's only when he starts making them up himself that they get so
terrible."

"Yes, and just think of his poor sisters," sighed Agnes. "In the summer it
isn't quite so bad, because he's out of the house most of the time, but in
winter it's simply terrible."

"Well, this winter I won't have much time to waste on you and Amy, trying
to develop a sense of humor in you," said Herb. "I'm going to build a
radio set of my own that will be a cuckoo."

"Hurrah for you!" exclaimed Bob. "That's a better way to spend your time,
and what a relief it will be for all of us."

"I suppose you think you're kidding me, but you're not," said Herbert.
"I'll make a set this winter that will make you amateurs turn green with
envy. You see if I don't!"

"It will be fine if you do," said Bob. "There's no reason why you
shouldn't if you really want to."

The time passed quickly, and before they realized it they heard the
conductor call the name of their own town.

"Goodness gracious!" exclaimed Agnes, "are we really there so soon? And I
haven't got any of my things together yet!"

There was great bustle and confusion for a few moments, and then the whole
party found themselves on the familiar platform of the Clintonia station.
Several taxicabs were requisitioned, and they were all whisked away to
their respective homes, after the radio boys had agreed to meet at Bob's
house that evening.

CHAPTER VI

RADIO'S LONG ARM

"Well, fellows," said Bob, when they were together that evening, according
to agreement, "this is the last evening we'll have without lessons for
some time to come, so we'd better make the most of it."

"Don't mention lessons, Bob," implored Jimmy. "Oh, my, how I hate 'em!"
and he groaned dismally.

"You'll soon be doing them, old timer, whether you like them or not," said
Joe. "It's going to be a tough term for me, too. I'll be taking up
geometry this term, and they say that's no cinch."

"Nothing's a cinch for me, worse luck," said Jimmy, dolefully. "Everything
I do seems to be hard work for me."

"That's tough luck, too," said Bob, gravely, "because you hate work so
much, Doughnuts."

"There isn't anybody in the world hates it more," confessed Jimmy,
shamelessly. "But that's all the good it ever does me. Why wasn't I born
rich instead of good looking?"

"Give it up," said Bob. "You'll have to ask me easier ones than that,
Jimmy, if you expect to get an answer. But as far as I can see, people
that are rich don't seem to be especially happy, anyway. Look at old
Abubus Boggs. He's probably the richest man in Clintonia, but nobody ever
accused him of being happy."

"I should say not!" exclaimed Joe. "He goes around looking as though he
had just bitten into an especially sour lemon. Everybody hates him, and I
don't suppose that makes any one happy."

"Maybe that does make old Abubus happy, there's no telling," said Jimmy,
reflectively. "But I know I wouldn't change places for all his money."

"There you are!" exclaimed Bob, triumphantly. "You don't realize how well
off you are, Doughnuts."

"Maybe not," conceded Jimmy. "School isn't so bad after you once get
started, but I hate to think of settling down to the old grind after that
wonderful summer at Ocean Point."

"But we'll have the radio just the same," Joe pointed out. "That's one of
the good things about it; you can take it with you wherever you go."

"Yes, I was reading an article in one of the radio magazines a little
while ago about that," said Bob. "The article was written by a trapper in
the northern part of Canada. He told how he had set up his outfit in the
center of a howling wilderness and had received all the latest news of the
world in his shack, not to mention music of every kind. He said that the
natives and Indians thought it must be magic, and were looking all over
the shack for the spirit that they supposed must be talking into the
headphones. That trapper was certainly a radio fan, if there ever was one,
and he wrote a mighty interesting letter, too."

"I should think it would be interesting," said Herb. "I'd like to read it,
if you still have it around."

Bob rummaged around in a big pile of radio magazines and finally found
what he was looking for. The boys read every word of the letter, and were
more than ever impressed by the wonderful possibilities of radiophony.

No longer would it be necessary for an exploring expedition to be lost
sight of for months, or even years. Wedged in the Arctic ice floes, or
contending with fever and savage animals in the depths of some tropical
jungle, the explorers could keep in touch with the civilized world as
easily as though bound on a week end fishing trip. The aeroplane soaring
in the clouds far above the earth, or the submarine under the earth's
waters, could be informed and guided by it. Certainly of all the wonders
of modern times, this was the most marvelous and far-reaching.

Something of all this passed through the boys' minds as they sat in
ruminative silence, thinking of the lonely man in the wilderness with his
precious wireless.

"I suppose we should feel pretty lucky to be around just at this stage of
the earth's history," said Bob, thoughtfully. "We're living in an age of
wonders, and I suppose we're so used to them that most of the time we
don't realize how wonderful they really are."

"That's true enough, all right," agreed Joe. "When you step into an
automobile these days, you don't stop to think that a few years ago the
fastest way to travel was behind old Dobbin. The old world is stepping
ahead pretty lively these days, and no mistake."

"It can't step too fast to suit me," said Herb. "Speed is what I like to
see, every time."

"Oh, I don't know," said Jimmy, lazily. "Why not take things a little
easier. People had just as much fun out of life when they weren't in such
a rush about everything. I take things easy and get fat on it, while Herb
is always rushing around, and it wears him down until he has the same
general appearance as a five and ten cent store clothespin."

"I wouldn't want to look like a three and nine cent store pin-cushion,
anyway," said Herb, indignantly. "That's about your style of beauty,
Doughnuts."

"Well, I never expect to take any prizes in a beauty show, so that doesn't
make me mad," said Jimmy, calmly.

"If you weren't so blamed fat, I'd have half a mind to throw you out the
window, you old faker," said Herb, threateningly.

"Couldn't do it," said Jimmy, briefly. "In the first place, I'm too heavy;
and in the second place, Bob wouldn't let you."

"I'll bet Bob would be glad to see you thrown out. How about it, Bob?" and
Herb appealed to his friend.

"I wouldn't want you to throw him out of either of these windows,"
answered Bob, seriously. "There are valuable plants on the lawn below, and
I'd hate to see them damaged. But if you want to take him out and drop him
from the hall window, I'm sure nobody will have any objections."

"Oh, I can't be bothered carrying him that far," said Herb. "Guess I might
as well let him live a while longer, after all."

"That's very nice of you," said Jimmy, sarcastically. "But you know you
couldn't do it, anyway. All I'd have to do would be to fall on you, Herb,
and it would be curtains for little Herbert."

"I think they're both afraid of each other, Joe," said Bob, turning to his
friend. "What's your opinion?"

"Looks that way to me, too. They remind me of a couple of cats that stand
and yell at each other for an hour, and then walk off without mixing it
after all."

"Well, we're not going to go to mauling each other just to amuse you two
Indians, that's certain," said Herb. "Let's shake hands and show the world
we're friends, Jimmy."

"Righto!" agreed his good-natured friend, and they laughingly shook
hands.

"We'd better save our scrapping for Buck Looker and his friends," said
Bob. "I suppose they'll be up to some kind of mischief as soon as we get
back to school again. They seem never to learn by experience."

"They're too foolish and conceited to learn much," observed Joe. "They
probably think they know all there is to know already."

"In spite of that, we may be able to teach them a trick or two," said
Herb. "But whether you fellows know it or not, it's getting pretty late,
so I think I'll go and hit the hay. Who's coming my way?"

"I suppose we might as well all beat it," returned Joe, rising. "If we
don't see each other to-morrow, I suppose we'll all meet at the dear old
high school on Monday morning. Three silent cheers, fellows."

"Consider them given," laughed Bob. "But we'll have plenty of fun, too, so
why mind a little hard work?"

After hunting in odd corners for their caps, the boys finally found them
all and departed gayly on their way, only slightly depressed by the
imminence of the fall term at high school.

CHAPTER VII

LEARNING TO SEND

"I've got two customers for those sets we wanted to sell," announced Bob,
a few evenings later, when the radio boys had congregated at his house as
usual. "It was so easy, that I'll bet we could sell all we make, if we
wanted to."

"Who's going to buy them?" asked Joe.

"Dave Halley, who runs the barber shop near the station, wants one, and
there's a big novelty store on the next block whose owner will take the
other. I promised that we'd set the outfits up and show them how to work
them."

"That's quick work, Bob," laughed Herb. "How did you come to land two
customers so quickly?"

"I was getting a haircut in Dave's shop, and he told me that he was
thinking of buying a good set, but hated to spend the money. So I told him
that I could sell him a good practical set for quite a little less than it
would cost him in a store, and he jumped at the offer. Then he told me
about Hartmann, the owner of the new variety store. Hartmann wants to get
one because he thinks it will draw trade. I went to see him as soon as
Dave got through telling me how much dandruff I had and how much I needed
some of his patent tonic. Mr. Hartmann was a little doubtful at first
about buying a home made set, but I told him if he wasn't pleased with it
he didn't need to pay us for it and we'd take it back. That seemed to
satisfy him, so he said he'd buy it. It was dead easy."

"Well, that's certainly fine," said Joe, admiringly. "That will help a lot
toward getting apparatus for the new sets."

"You're a hustler, Bob," said Jimmy. "I'd like to be one, but I guess I'm
not built that way."

"It was more luck than anything else," disclaimed Bob. "Let's go down to
the store after school to-morrow and pick out what we need. I want a
couple of audion bulbs, and I suppose you fellows do, too. I want to price
variable condensers like the one Doctor Dale brought us at Ocean Point
last summer, too."

"We've got to keep busy if we want to keep ahead of some of the other
fellows in this town," said Joe. "Lots of the fellows at High have got the
radio fever bad, and are out to beat us at our own game. I guess we can
show them where they get off, all right, but we may have to hustle some
to do it. I heard Lon Beardsley at noon to-day boasting that he was going
to be the first fellow in Clintonia to receive signals from Europe. I
asked him what kind of set he intended to do it with, and he said he had
been working on one all summer, and was putting the finishing touches to
it now."

"He ought to have something pretty good, if he's been working on it that
long," commented Herb. "If one of us had been working on a set all summer,
I think we'd have had it done before this."

"Probably we would. But you've got to remember that we've had more
experience at the game than Lon," Bob reminded him.

"It seems to me that we'd do better all to work on one big, crackerjack
set than each to make a separate long distance set," said Herb. "In the
first place, it's more fun working together. And then we could put our
money together and get better equipment than we could the other way. What
do you think?"

"I think it's a pretty good idea," said Jimmy. "You can hear just as much
over one set as you can over four, as far as that goes."

"I was thinking of something like that myself," said Bob, slowly. "It
would certainly cost us less, and, as Herb says, we'd probably have a
better set in the end."

"It suits me all right," added Joe. "This is going to be a tough term at
High, and with so much home work I don't know where I'd get the time to
build a complicated set. It looks as though we'd be better off every way,
doesn't it?"

"You always will be better off, if you follow my advice," said Herb, with
his customary modesty. "You don't usually have sense enough to do it,
though."

"We have too much sense, you mean," said Jimmy, scornfully. "This
suggestion of yours was only an accident, Herb. Chances are you won't make
another as good for the next year."

"I don't know that you're very famous for bright ideas, Jimmy, so where do
you get off to criticize?" asked Herb.

"Huh! I've got an idea in my noddle right now that's worth half a dozen of
yours."

"Prove it!" replied Herb, promptly. "What is this bright idea?"

"Well, you know that just about this time they cook nice, hot doughnuts
down at Mattatuck's bakery. Delicious doughnuts! Um, yum!" and Jimmy's
round countenance assumed a rapturous expression.

"And the idea was, that you'd go down there and blow the crowd to hot
doughnuts, was it?" queried Joe.

"Blow, nothing!" exclaimed Jimmy. "We'll all chip in. But I don't mind
going after them."

"The trouble is--can we trust you not to eat them all on the way back?"
Bob laughed.

"Anybody that doesn't think so can go for his own doughnuts," replied
Jimmy. "Kick in there, you hobos, and I'll be on my way. I'm getting
hungrier every minute."

His friends, thus adjured, "kicked in," and Jimmy set off at a rate of
speed much above his usual leisurely gait. The bakery was three or four
blocks away, but Jimmy returned in a surprisingly short time with a large
bag of tender doughnuts, still warm from the bakery.

"Wow!" exclaimed Joe, as Jimmy tore open the bag. "The sight of those
doughnuts certainly makes a fellow feel hungry."

"Dig into them, fellows," was Jimmy's only comment, as he reached for one
himself.

They all followed this example, and the pile of crisp brown doughnuts
dwindled with surprising rapidity.

"Likely enough these will keep me awake half the night, but it's worth
it," said Jimmy, with a sigh of contentment, as he finished the last crumb
of his fourth doughnut. "I don't feel near as hungry as I did, anyway."

"I should hope that you didn't feel hungry at all, old greedy," laughed
Joe. "I'm beginning to think that it's impossible to fill you up any
more."

"Oh, lay off!" retorted Jimmy. "You Indians ate your full share, I
notice."

"I guess we're all in the same boat," agreed Bob. "But now that we're fed
up and feeling strong, how would you like to practice sending for awhile?
I was just beginning to work up a little speed while we were at Ocean
Point, but now I suppose I'm getting rusty again. Who's game to send? I'll
bet nobody can send faster than I can receive."

"I'm willing to try it, anyway," said Joe, picking up a magazine. "I'll
send right out of this magazine, so when you say 'stop' we'll be able to
check up how much you've caught."

"All right, that's fair enough," agreed Bob. "Just wait a minute until I
get a paper and pencil, then shoot as fast as you can."

Seating himself at the table, with a blank sheet of paper before him, Bob
made ready to scribble at high speed, while Herb held a watch to time him.
As for Jimmy, he was content to curl up on a sofa and act the part of
self-appointed judge.

"Start sending as soon as you like, Joe," said, Jimmy. "I'm all ready for
you. I'll bet I can fall asleep before you can send fifty words."

"I wouldn't take that bet, because I believe you can," replied Joe. "I'd
be betting against your specialty, and there's no percentage in that, you
know."

"Don't forget me, though, will you?" said Bob, in a resigned tone. "I
don't want to hurry you, but any time you're both through that interesting
conversation I'm waiting to begin."

"All right, then, here goes!" said Joe, and started sending as rapidly as
he could with the practice key and buzzer.

Bob's pencil fairly flew over the paper, and for five minutes there was no
sound in the room save the strident buzz of the sender and the whisper of
Bob's pencil as it moved rapidly over the paper.

Then, "Time," called Herb, and Bob threw down the pencil.

"Whew!" he exclaimed, reaching for a handkerchief. "That's pretty hot
work, if any one should ask you. Count 'em up, Herb, will you, and see how
many there are? Seems to me there must be a million words there, more or
less."

"Quite a little less," laughed Herb, after he had counted the words as
requested. "But you've written ninety-one, which is mighty good."

"That's a little over sixteen a minute," said Bob. "It's not near as fast
as I want to get, but it's fast enough to get a license, anyway."

"You bet it is!" exclaimed Herb. "And there are very few mistakes," he
added, as he compared what Bob had written with the magazine text.

"Joe's getting to be some bear at sending, too," remarked Bob.

"Oh, the sending is a lot easier than receiving," said Joe. "But now, if
you don't mind, Bob, you can send me something, and I'll see how fast I
can take it. I'm afraid I can't come up to your record, though."

Joe did very well, however, averaging about fourteen words a minute.

Then Herb took a turn at sending and receiving, as did Jimmy, and they
both did well. The boys found it all very fascinating, as well as useful,
and discussed many plans for the future, although they did not intend to
go in much for sending until they had perfected a first-class receiving
set. They agreed before parting for the night that they would meet the
following day after school at the radio supply store, where they could buy
some audion bulbs and whatever other apparatus they might need.

CHAPTER VIII

A RATTLING FIGHT

"Hello, Bob! what kept you so late?" called Joe. He and Herb and Jimmy had
been waiting some time for their friend, and were beginning to think that
he must have forgotten the appointment made the previous night.

"It's a wonder I got here as soon as I did," replied Bob. His face was
flushed, and there was an angry gleam in his eyes. "I thought I'd have to
lick Carl Lutz before I could get here; but he didn't have quite nerve
enough to start anything, as he was all alone. I only wish he had."

"What happened?" asked Joe. "Tell us about it."

"When I came out this afternoon, Carl was standing just outside the
schoolyard gate, teasing that little Yates kid, whose brother was killed
in the Argonne fighting. If Bill had been alive, you can bet Carl would
have left the kid brother alone, but as it was, he was bullying him and
trying to make him carry a big package for him."

"Just like the big coward!" exclaimed Joe, indignantly.

"You said it!" replied Bob. "Well, of course, I wasn't going to stand for
anything like that, and I made him quit. He got so mad that I really
thought he was going to swing at me, but he didn't quite have the nerve.
He went off muttering something about getting the gang after me, and I
took the Yates kid with me for a few blocks to make sure that he would get
home all right."

"Good for you!" said Joe. "That's just like Carl, to pick on a kid that
has nobody to fight his battles for him and is too small to fight his own.
I'm glad you were around to take the kid's part."

"I suppose Carl will run right to Buck, now, and they'll hatch up some
scheme to get even with you," remarked Herb.

"I don't care what they do," returned Bob. "It's too bad there's a bunch
like that in this town. They're a regular nuisance."

"We've done all we could to teach them manners," said Joe. "I guess the
trouble is, they don't want to learn."

"Don't let's bother even thinking about them," said Bob. "Come on in and
we'll buy the stuff we need."

The four friends went on into the store, where they found several of their
schoolmates, bent on the same mission as themselves. All exchanged
greetings, and many good-natured jokes were bandied back and forth as
they made their purchases.

"You fellows will have to step lively to get ahead of me," said Lon
Beardsley, who was older than any of the radio boys and was in the senior
class at High School. He was one of the brightest boys in his class, and
the others knew that competition from him was not to be despised.

"Stepping fast is one of the best things we do," said, Bob, in answer to
this friendly challenge. "You may be some speed, but we're not such
slouches, either."

"Do your worst! We defy you!" cried Herb, striking a melodramatic
attitude.

"All right," said Lon, laughing. "Remember, though, I've given you fair
warning. I see you're buying vacuum tubes," he added, curiously. "You must
be going in pretty deep, aren't you?"

"Ask us no questions and we'll tell you no lies," parried Bob. "Besides,
we're not the only radio fans in this town, Lon. Maybe some one else will
beat us all out."

"Oh, I'm not worrying," said the other, as he prepared to leave with his
purchases. "Are you fellows going my way?"

"You'd better not wait for us," replied Bob. "We've got a few things to
get yet. See you at school to-morrow."

"Righto!" said Lon, and departed, whistling cheerfully.

The radio boys started home soon afterward, The days were getting very
short, and by the time they left the store the autumn evening was rapidly
fading into night. There was a crisp tang in the air which, together with
the smell of burning leaves, gave warning that winter was close at hand.
The last gorgeous colors of an autumn sunset still tinged the western rim
of the sky as the boys set out for home at a rapid pace.

Not far from their homes they struck off from the street through a vacant
lot, following a path that served as a short cut. The lot was overgrown
with weeds and high sunflower stalks, but the idea of an ambush never
entered the boys' heads until suddenly they were assailed by a shower of
stones, which sang viciously past their ears. Fortunately, it was too dark
for their assailants to throw the missiles with any accuracy, although the
boys were struck more than once.

For a moment, taken completely by surprise, they did not know which way to
turn nor what to do. But they were not of the type that hesitates long
before taking action. Their hidden assailants probably thought that they
would run, but this thought was furthest from their minds.

Bob noted from which direction the missiles were coming, and acted
accordingly.

"Come on, fellows!" he yelled, and, followed by his friends, charged into
the long dry stalks that fringed the path.

There was a sudden cessation in the volley of stones and a startled
rustling deep in the rank growth of weeds.

In grim silence the radio boys charged straight in the direction of this
sound, and such was the speed of their attack that their hidden
adversaries had no chance to make their escape before the boys were upon
them. It was now almost dark, but there was still enough light for the
boys to recognize the ungainly form of Buck Looker, in company with his
cronies. These three had been re-inforced by a boy of about Buck's age,
and of very much the same ugly disposition, known as Bud Hayes, whose
family had lately moved to Clintonia.

"Clean them up, fellows!" yelled Bob. "We'll teach them not to throw
stones again in a hurry!"

Each of the radio boys singled out an adversary, and a brisk mêlée ensued.
Seeing that they could not get away, the Looker crowd put up the best
fight they could. But the radio boys were wrought up to a high pitch of
anger by the cowardly attack on them, and they fought with a quiet and
grim determination that quickly put their adversaries on the defensive.

At first the high grass and weeds hampered all the combatants, but these
were soon trampled down as they fought savagely back and forth. Suddenly,
by some unfortunate accident, Herb tripped over some object lying on the
ground, and fell full length. With a cry of triumph, Bud Hayes, without
giving Herb a chance to get to his feet again, threw himself down on top
of him and started pommeling him for all he was worth. Stunned by his
fall, Herb at first could offer little resistance, and it would have gone
hard with him had not Bob observed his fall. He himself had engaged Buck
in combat, but as he saw Herb go down, he dealt Buck a staggering blow on
the point of the jaw and leaped to Herb's assistance.

Hot rage filled his heart and the wild thrill of combat tingled along
every nerve. With the strength and ferocity of a panther he hurled himself
at Bud Hayes, landing with such force that Bud was hurled several feet
away from the prostrate Herb, gasping for breath.

Bob himself landed on the ground, but was on his feet again quick as
lightning, glancing about him to see how it fared with his friends. Joe
was forcing Carl Lutz back step by step, while Jimmy had already forced
Terry Mooney to take to his heels. But even as Bob noted this in one quick
glance, both Bud and Buck, who had recovered by this time, rushed at him
from different directions. But before Buck could get too close quarters
Herb, who was recovering from the effect of his fall, stretched out a
foot, and Buck sprawled headlong, landing with such force that the breath
was knocked from his body.

Lutz and Hayes, seeing their leader fall, decided that it was time for
them to get away, and simultaneously they took to their heels. By this
time it had grown so dark that it was impossible to follow them, so the
boys were left in undisputed possession of the field.

Buck Looker, deserted by his cowardly friends, staggered to his feet, all
the fight knocked out of him. He was entirely at the mercy of the radio
boys, but they were not the kind to take advantage of this fact, although,
undoubtedly, had their positions been reversed, Buck would have had no
such scruples.

"Well, you've got me," growled Buck. "What are you going to do about it?"

"Nothing," said Bob, a note of contempt in his voice. "The less we see of
you, Buck, the better we're satisfied. And your gang's no better than you
are. Look at the way they ran off and left you to take care of yourself.
You're dirty and they're dirty. We'll let you off this time with the
licking you've had already, but if you ever try any more low-down tricks
you won't get off so easily."

Buck muttered something to himself which he did not dare to voice aloud,
and slunk off with the manner of a cur who has just received a beating
that he knows he deserves. The radio boys groped their way back to the
path, where they had left their bundles, and resumed their way home,
keeping a wary eye out for any signs of a renewal of the attack by their
enemies.

CHAPTER IX

LARRY REAPPEARS

"That was a regular battle," said Herb, as they walked along. "Bud Hayes
has some reputation as a scrapper, and he certainly was all that I could
handle, but if I hadn't tripped over that blamed can I could have taken
care of him all right. But I've got a lump on my head as big as a hen's
egg where I hit the ground."

"You'd have been out of luck if Bob hadn't helped you out the way he did,"
said Joe. "You certainly landed on him like a load of bricks, Bob."

"I was so mad that I think I would have dropped a ton of bricks on him if
I'd had them handy," replied Bob, with a grim laugh. "That was one dirty
trick--hitting Herb--when he was knocked out by that fall."

"I guess I owe you a vote of thanks for that, too," said Herb.

"I owe you one, for tripping up Buck in the neat way you did," returned
Bob. "He and Hayes would have been on top of me both together if you
hadn't."

"No thanks due; it was a pleasure," grinned Herb, although a swollen lip
made this exercise painful. "I wish he'd broken his neck while he was
about it."

"It wasn't your fault that he didn't," said Bob.

"I knew that bunch was mean," remarked Joe. "But I never thought they were
mean enough to take up stone throwing from ambush. That's the most
cowardly thing they've ever done."

"Yes, and the most dangerous," said Bob. "Any one of those stones might
have killed one of us if it had landed just right."

"Or, worse still, it might have broken our vacuum tubes," added Jimmy,
with a grin. "It's a wonder that the whole lot of them didn't get smashed.
I'll be afraid to open the package when we do get it home," he went on
more seriously.

His fears turned out to have been groundless, for when they arrived at the
Layton home, without having seen or heard anything more of the bullies on
the way, they found all their delicate apparatus unharmed. And other than
Herb's swollen lip and a few slight bruises, they had received little
damage themselves from the encounter. The bullies had not fared so well,
for little was seen of them for several days, and when they did make an
appearance in public they were decorated with strips of court plaster
here and there. They offered many ingenious excuses in explanation, but
they received little credence from the other boys of the town, who had
been apprized of the cowardly attack on the radio boys and the result of
the encounter.

The bullies soon found that nobody believed them, and wherever they went
they were pointed out and were the subject of many jeers and jokes,
although few dared to make them openly. Buck realized that he was losing
prestige rapidly, and, although he was getting secretly to fear another
encounter with the radio boys, he felt that he must soon get the better of
them if he were to regain his former reputation as a fighter. He and his
cronies spent many an hour in hatching plots against Bob and his friends,
but for a long time could think of nothing that offered much prospect of
success.

Meanwhile, the radio boys were going about the building of their big set
with enthusiasm, spending all their spare time at the fascinating pursuit.
Most of their work was done at Bob's house, as he had an ideal workroom in
the cellar, and his position as leader, moreover, made it seem the natural
place for them to meet.

"Say, fellows!" exclaimed Jimmy one evening, tumbling down the cellar
stairs three steps at a time, "have you heard the news?"

"What news?" asked Herb, who had arrived only a few minutes before him.
"Has there been a big fire? Or did some one die and leave you a million
dollars?"

"No such luck as that," replied Jimmy. "But I know you'll be mighty glad
to hear it, anyway. Chasson's vaudeville is going to be in Clintonia next
week. That's the show Larry and Tim are with, you know."

"Good enough!" exclaimed the others. "Where did you hear about it, Jimmy?"
asked Bob.

"There was a bill poster putting up the programme on a fence as I came
along," answered Jimmy. "I saw the name 'Chasson,' and of course I stopped
and looked to see if Larry and Tim were on the bill."

"Were they?" asked Herb.

"You bet they were! And in pretty big type, too," responded Jimmy. "Say!
it will be great to see them on the stage, won't it?"

"I should say it will," said Joe. "If they're half as funny on the stage
as they are off it, they'll surely make a hit."

"They certainly will," put in Bob. "We'll be there on the opening night to
give them a hand. If they don't go big, it won't be our fault."

"They'll be popular, all right," predicted Joe, with conviction. "If the
rest of the show is half as good as their part it will be worth more than
the price of admission."

"It will be great to hear that canary whistling his little tunes again,"
said Herbert, laughing at the recollection of Larry's comical imitations.

"Not to mention Tim's dancing," said Bob. "That boy can sure shake a foot.
I'll bet they'll both get into the big circuits before they're much
older."

"They deserve to," said Jimmy. "They rehearse an awful lot. It makes me
tired just to think of how hard I've seen them work sometimes."

"But then, you get tired very easily, Doughnuts, you know that," said
Joe.

"If you worked half as hard in the afternoons as I do sometimes, you'd be
tired in the evening, too," replied Jimmy, in an injured tone. "I'll bet I
sawed through about a thousand feet of tough oak planking this afternoon
for Dad, and I'll have to do the same thing to-morrow afternoon. He's got
a big job on, and I have to pitch in and help him."

"Well, you ought to do something to pay for all the good grub you pack
away," said Herb, utterly without sympathy for his friend's tale of woe.

"Maybe you'd pack away more if you did a little work once in a while,"
retorted Jimmy. "All you do is spend your time thinking up poor jokes
instead of doing something useful."

"Oh, I'm glad you mentioned jokes," said Herb, calmly ignoring Jimmy's
attack. "I thought of a swell one just as I was walking up here this
evening. I know you will all be delighted to hear it."

"What makes you so sure?" asked Bob. "They don't usually delight anybody,
do they?"

"Of course they do," replied Herb, indignantly.

"They always delight Herb Fennington, anyway," observed Joe.

"Yes, I like me," said Herb, refusing to get mad. "Also, I like my jokes.
Now, take this one, for instance. Why----"

"I'd rather not take it, if it's all the same to you," said Joe, cruelly.
"Why don't you keep it, and give it to somebody else, Herb?"

"Oh, forget it!" exclaimed Herb. "This is a good joke, I tell you, and
you've got to listen, whether you want to or not."

"Go ahead and get the agony over with, then," said Bob, resignedly. "I
suppose we'll be able to live through it, just as we have others before
this."

"Well, I saw in this morning's newspaper that the Mercury Athletic Club in
New York burned up last night. Now, you've got to help me out with this
joke, Bob. When I say 'I see there was a big athletic event at the Mercury
Athletic Club last night,' you say 'is that so? What happened?' Have you
got that through your noddle?"

"Yes, I guess I can remember that," answered Bob. "Shoot!"

"All right, then, here goes," said Herb. "I see that there was a big
athletic event at the Mercury Athletic Club last night, Bob."

"Is that so?" said Bob, taking his cue. "What happened, Herb?"

"The water was running and the flames were leaping," cried Herb,
triumphantly. "How's that for a crackerjack joke?"

"Awful," said Joe, although he could not help laughing with the others.
"I'll bet there's a nice cosy, padded cell waiting for you in the nearest
bughouse, Herb."

"Well, it can wait, for all of me," said his friend. "I'm not very keen
about it, myself."

"I think jail would be a better place for him," suggested Jimmy.

This met with the unqualified approval of everybody except Herb, and then
the boys set to work on their new radio set. As this was Saturday evening,
they had no lessons to prepare, and they worked steadily until ten
o'clock. They wound transformers until Jimmy declared that it made him
dizzy even to look at them, and when the time came to stop work they all
felt that substantial progress had been made.

They agreed to meet at the theater the following Monday evening, to
witness the opening performance of the show in which their friends Larry
Bartlett and Tim Barcommon were performing, and then said good-night and
started homeward to the accompaniment of a cheerful whistled marching
tune.

There was much excitement among their classmates the following Monday, as
they had all heard about the show and most of them intended to go. When
they learned that the radio boys were acquainted with two of the
performers, the four lads were deluged with questions as to how they came
to know them.

"You fellows are getting pretty sporty, seems to me," said Lon Beardsley.
"Maybe you'll give us an introduction to your friends in the show."

"Surest thing you know," assented Bob. "I got a letter from them this
morning, and they promised to call me up around four o'clock this
afternoon. They'll probably come to our house for dinner, and we'll all go
down to the theater together."

And sure enough, Bob had hardly reached home that afternoon when the
telephone bell rang, and Larry's familiar voice came over the wire.

"Hello, Bob!" he said. "How's the boy? Did you get my letter all right?"

"I sure did," answered Bob. "It's fine to hear your voice again. We're all
tickled to death to know that you're showing in Clintonia this week. You
and Tim have got to come here for supper to-night, you know."

"We'd be glad to, if it isn't imposing on your folks," said Larry. "We
don't get many regular home dinners these days, you can bet, and it will
be a treat for us."

"All right, then, we'll be looking for you," replied Bob. "Get here as
early as you can."

This Larry promised to do, and after a little further conversation rang
off. Bob then called up the other radio boys and told them to come to his
house immediately after supper, so that they would have time for a few
words with Larry and Tim, after which they could all go down to the
theater together.

CHAPTER X

A TERRIBLE ACCIDENT

"Hello, Tim! Hello, Larry! How have you been?" The two actors had little
reason to complain of the warmth of their reception, as the radio boys
shook hands with them, pounded them on the back, and asked innumerable
questions.

"You both look as though you were being treated all right," said Joe,
after they had quieted down somewhat after the first riotous greetings.
"How do you like being with a regular show?"

"Oh, we manage to get along," answered Larry. "But tell us a little of
what you fellows have been doing since we saw you last. Are you still as
interested in radio as ever?"

"You bet we are!" said Bob. "If you once get interested in that, I don't
think you'd ever be willing to drop it. The more you learn about it, the
more you want to learn."

"Well, that's fine," said Larry, heartily. "I only wish I had time enough
to take it up. I'd like nothing better."

"When you make a lot of money in the vaudeville business and retire,
you'll have plenty of time for it," said Tim, with a wink at the others.

"Yes, when I do," said Larry, scornfully. "It doesn't strain my back at
present to carry around my roll, though. I feel lucky if I can keep a jump
or two ahead of the wolf, as it is. But we may both have luck and land on
a big circuit, and then we'll begin to get some real money."

While talking, the little party had been walking at a brisk pace and now
found themselves close to the theater. Many of the townspeople were going
in the same direction, and most of these recognized the radio boys and
looked inquisitively at their two companions. Some of their schoolmates,
who knew that Larry and Tim were actors, made bold to join the group and
be introduced. By the time they reached the theater Larry and Tim had
quite an escort of honor, all of whom were loath to leave them at the
stage door. As they disappeared within they were followed by three rousing
cheers, and then all the boys made their way to the main entrance.

The radio boys had secured their tickets in advance, and were soon
comfortably seated, waiting expectantly for the curtain to rise on the
first act.

This proved to be an acrobatic turn of mediocre quality, and the boys
waited impatiently for it to finish, for Tim and Larry were billed to
appear in the next act. With a moderate meed of applause, the acrobats
retired. The orchestra struck up a catchy tune and the big curtain slowly
rose. The scene disclosed was pretty and artistic, representing a glade in
a forest, realistic trees surrounding a green clearing. Nothing was to be
seen of Larry and Tim, however, and the radio boys were mystified, as both
their friends had refused to tell them what the act was like. Suddenly the
first piping notes of a canary bird's song were heard, rising so clear and
lifelike that even the boys themselves were deluded at first into thinking
that they were listening to an actual bird. The canary song ended with a
sustained trill, and then, soft and melodious, came the limpid notes of
the mocking bird's song. By this time the audience had comprehended that
this was in reality a clever human imitation of bird notes, and they
applauded heartily.

"Say!" whispered Jimmy, excitedly, "Larry has picked up a lot of new stuff
since he was at Ocean Point. That was fine, wasn't it?"

"Keep still," whispered Joe, fiercely. "We want to hear every bit of
this."

Jimmy subsided, and they all listened with keen delight as Larry imitated
a host of feathered songsters, each one so true to life that the audience
applauded again and again. At last Larry exhausted his repertoire, and
for the first time appeared in the open, emerging from behind the trunk of
a tree. He was heartily applauded, and as he bowed his way off the stage,
the spotlight shifted, and Tim came onto the stage like a whirlwind, arms
and legs flying as he did a complicated clog dance. At the most furious
part Larry joined him, and they danced together, keeping such perfect time
and going through such identical motions that it seemed as though they
must be automatons actuated by the same string.

As a spectacular finale to the act, each one was supposed to make a dash
for one of the property trees in the background, climb up it and disappear
in the branches as the curtain fell. With a final wild gyration that
brought spontaneous applause from the audience, each one made for his
appointed tree, and started up.

Everything went as usual until Larry had almost reached the branches.
Suddenly there came a cracking sound, the artificial tree swayed and
tottered, and, amid horrified cries from the spectators, crashed to the
stage, bringing down others on top of it as it fell. The radio boys had
just time to see Larry lying, white and senseless, among the ruins when
the curtain descended quickly, shutting off the scene of the accident from
the audience.

So suddenly had the thing happened that at first the boys could hardly
believe the evidence of their eyes. For a few moments they gazed at one
another in horrified silence, and then, as though all were moved
simultaneously by the same thought, they rushed down the aisle and, before
the ushers could stop them, climbed onto the stage. It took them a few
seconds, that seemed like hours, to find their way behind the scenes to
the place where the accident had occurred.

Tim, aided by several stage hands, was frantically trying to release his
partner from the heavy pieces of scenery that held him pinned down. Bob
and his friends fell to the work of rescue with every ounce of energy and
strength that they possessed, but, work as they did, it was a considerable
time before they at last managed to free their unfortunate friend.

A doctor had been sent for, and by the time Larry was laid, still
unconscious, on a cot, the physician had arrived. As he made his
examination his face grew more and more serious, and he shook his head
doubtfully.

"He's pretty badly hurt, I'm afraid," he said. "We must get him to a
hospital as soon as possible. I have my car outside, and if some of you
will carry him out, I'll take him there."

In sorrowful silence Tim and the radio boys carried their injured friend
out to the doctor's automobile. Tim got in with him, and Larry was
whirled away to the hospital, where he faced a grim fight for life.

The radio boys followed on foot, after first telephoning to their homes to
explain why they would not be home until late.

Meantime, in the theater, the performance had gone on after an
announcement by the management that "Mr. Bartlett is but slightly
hurt,"--so spoke the manager--"and has been taken to a hospital where he
can receive better care than in the hotel."

The radio boys followed the doctor's car to the hospital and spent an
anxious hour in the waiting room while their friend was being thoroughly
examined by the head physician, for of course the announcement at the
theater had been made to quiet the audience, and no one yet knew just how
serious Larry's injuries were.

"We'll have to get Doctor Ellis to take care of him," said Bob, while they
were waiting. "I'm awfully sorry your father isn't in town, Joe. Next to
him Dr. Ellis is the best doctor in Clintonia, I guess."

The others concurred in this view, and Bob promised to call up Dr. Ellis
in the morning. After what seemed an endless wait the physician who had
brought Larry to the hospital entered the waiting room.

"I'm afraid you won't be able to see your friend to-night," he said. "His
left arm is broken, and I think his back is injured, although I can't tell
yet how seriously. By this time to-morrow night I'll be able to tell you
more. Has he any relatives that should be notified of the accident?"

"I know he has a mother, who is dependent on him," said Bob. "We've all
heard him speak of her. I don't know where she lives, though, but probably
Tim would have her address."

"Whose address?" asked Tim, entering the room at that moment.

"Larry's mother's," said Bob. "Do you know where she lives, Tim? As the
doctor says, she ought to be notified about this."

"Yes, I know where she can be reached," said Tim. "I'll write to her
before I go to bed to-night. Poor Larry!" and Tim tried hard to wink the
tears back, but with little success.

"You mustn't feel too bad," advised the kindly doctor. "I think that there
is little doubt that he will live, but as to whether or not he'll fully
recover, I can't say yet. But we'll hope for the best, and you can rest
assured that everything possible will be done for him."

The boys thanked the doctor for the help he had given their unfortunate
friend, and then, after taking a sorrowful leave of Tim, started homeward.

The next few days were anxious ones for the radio boys. Larry hovered
between life and death, and almost a week had passed before the doctors in
charge of his case would say positively that he was going to pull through.
At the end of that period the boys were allowed to see him, for a few
minutes, after promising not to let him talk or to say anything to him
that might excite him.

Larry received them with his old cheerful grin, but the boys were shocked
at his wan and wasted appearance, so different from his usual vigorous
self. They did not let him see this, however, but talked and joked with
him in the usual way, and when the doctor finally signaled for them to
leave they had the satisfaction of knowing that they had cheered their
friend up and left him looking happier than when they came.

CHAPTER XI

LIGHT OUT OF DARKNESS

"It's going to be pretty hard for Larry when he does start to get around,
I'm afraid," said Bob, after the boys had left the hospital. "Tim told me
yesterday that Larry's mother is an invalid, and has to have a nurse all
the time. Larry is her only support, and if he can't keep up his
vaudeville career I don't see how either of them are going to get along."

"It's pretty tough, all right," replied Joe. "The doctor says now that
he'll be as strong as ever eventually, but he admits that it will be a
long time until he is. I wish we could think of some way to help Larry out
until he gets on his feet again."

"Well, maybe we can," observed Bob, hopefully. "Although I must admit that
I can't see much light on the subject just at present."

"We'll have to get busy on our new radio set in earnest pretty soon," said
Joe, after a pause in which each had been busy with his own thoughts.
"We've spent so much of our time at the hospital with Larry that we
haven't got more than about ten cents' worth done since the night of the
accident."

"We can plug right along with it now," said Bob. "And speaking of radio,
who do you think called me up last night? I meant to tell you before, but
I forgot all about it."

"Who was it?" asked Herb. "Somebody we all know?"

"You bet we all know him," said Bob, laughing. "It was Frank Brandon."

"Frank Brandon!" they all exclaimed. "Where's he been keeping himself
lately?" asked Joe.

"He said that he had had to go to Florida on some government business
connected with wireless, and he just got back to this part of the country
yesterday," replied Bob. "He expected to be in Clintonia to-day, and said
that if we were all going to be at my house to-night, he'd drop in and
make us a visit."

"I hope you told him that we'd be there," said Jimmy.

"Of course I did," replied Bob. "You fellows had better get around bright
and early this evening, because he said he'd be around right after supper.
I know I've got plenty of questions I want to ask him, and I guess you
have, too."

"You can bet I have!" exclaimed Jimmy. "I want to ask him where he got
that package of milk chocolate he had with him the last time I saw him. He
gave me a piece, and believe me, it was about the best I've ever tasted."

"There you go again," exclaimed Herb, with a laugh, "always thinking of
that stomach of yours. Don't you ever think of anything serious?"

"Serious?" echoed Jimmy. "It's a serious enough thing for me, where to get
that milk chocolate. I've been in pretty nearly every candy store in town,
but none of them seems to have anything quite so good."

By this time the boys had reached Main Street, and they parted for the
time being, promising to get to Bob's house as soon as they could after
supper.

The Layton family had hardly finished their evening meal when there came a
ring at the doorbell, and Bob jumped up to admit the expected guest.

"Hello, Mr. Brandon!" exclaimed Bob, as they both shook hands heartily.
"It seems great to see you again."

"I can say the same thing about you," replied Frank Brandon. "You're
tanned like a life guard at Coney Island. I'll bet you haven't been far
from salt water all summer."

"You're right there," smiled Bob. "I was in the water so much that it's a
wonder I didn't turn into a fish. The whole bunch of us had a wonderful
time of it."

"Good enough!" Brandon exclaimed, heartily. "Where's all the rest of your
crowd this evening?"

"They'll be around soon now. I'm expecting them any minute. There's Joe's
whistle now! I thought he'd be along soon."

As he finished speaking Joe came bounding up the porch two steps at a
time, and he had hardly got inside and shaken hands with Brandon when
Jimmy and Herb appeared together. There was great excitement while they
exchanged greetings, and then they went into the parlor and were made
welcome by Mr. and Mrs. Layton.

"It seems good to get back in this town again," said Brandon, in a voice
that carried conviction. "You folks have made me so welcome ever since we
became acquainted that it seems almost like my own home town."

"That's the way we want everybody to feel," smiled Mr. Layton. "Clintonia
is a neighborly town, and we always do our best to make visitors feel at
home."

"I hear you've done a good deal of traveling since you were here last,"
said Mrs. Layton.

"Yes, I had a little commission to execute for the government down in
Miami," said Brandon. "A radio inspector is apt to be sent anywhere on
short notice, you know."

"How is your cousin, Mr. Harvey, getting along?" asked Bob. "Has he got
entirely over his experience of last summer, when Dan Cassey knocked him
out and stole his money?"

"Oh, yes, he's all right now," responded Brandon. "I saw him only day
before yesterday, and he couldn't get through talking about the way you
fellows took charge of the station while he was down and out, and then got
the money back afterward. That was mighty fine work, and you can believe
both he and I are grateful to you for what you did."

"Oh, that wasn't much," disclaimed Bob. "Besides, he'd done so much for us
that we owed him something in return."

"He didn't say anything about that," observed Brandon.

"I suppose that's the last thing in the world he would mention," laughed
Joe. "But he gave us all kinds of stuff on radio, and even loaned us a
practice set to get the code with."

"Don't forget about the motor boat," said Herb. "He was as generous with
that as with everything else. We sure had some fine cruises in the old Sea
Bird."

"That sounds like him, all right," admitted Brandon. "There's hardly
anything you could ask him for that he wouldn't cheerfully give you. He
told me that you fellows were getting to be regular sharps at the radio
game. Are you building any sets at present?"

"You bet we are!" cried Bob. "Come on down to my workroom, and we'll show
you what we're doing. We're working on a regular set this time."

"I'm with you," said Brandon, heartily. "Come ahead and let's see what
you've got. I suppose you'll be giving me pointers pretty soon."

"Not for a little time yet, anyway," grinned Bob. "The government hasn't
been after us yet begging us to take jobs in the radio department."

"You never can tell," replied Brandon. "There's a big demand for radio men
these days, and we're getting some pretty young chaps in our division."

"We don't feel as though we'd much more than scratched the surface of
radiophony yet," said Joe. "There's such an immense amount to be learned,
and then there are new discoveries being made every day. It would take
almost all a fellow's time just to keep up with new developments, let
alone learn all the fundamentals."

"That will all come in time," said the radio inspector. "You're on the
right road now, anyway, and traveling pretty fast. Say!" he exclaimed, a
moment later, as he was ushered into the workroom and caught sight of the
new set, which was partially completed. "You're certainly going into it
pretty heavily this time, aren't you? I didn't imagine you were working up
anything so elaborate."

"We thought we might as well make something pretty good while we were
about it," said Bob. "It won't be much more work to make this set than a
smaller one, and we expect to get a whole lot better results. Don't you
think so yourself?"

"There's no doubt about it," agreed Mr. Brandon. "When you get this set
finished, you ought to be able to catch pretty near anything that happens
to be flying around. Let's see how you intend to hook things up."

The boys explained their ideas and methods in detail, while the radio man
nodded appreciatively from time to time. Sometimes he interrupted to ask a
question or make a suggestion, which was duly taken note of by the
enthusiastic boys.

"There doesn't seem to be a whole lot that I can tell you," remarked Frank
Brandon, after they had gone over everything in detail. "You seem to have
thought it out very thoroughly already, and outside of the few minor
things I've already told you, I can't think of much to suggest. It looks
to me as though you'd have a pretty good set there when you get through.

"There's one tip I want to give you though," he went on. "And that is to
be careful about your tuning. You've noticed, no doubt, that sometimes you
get first-class results, and then again the reception is so unsatisfactory
that you are disgusted. Now in nine times out of ten the whole trouble is
that you haven't tuned your receiver properly. You can't do the thing in a
haphazard fashion and get the signals clearly. You know what Michelangelo
said about 'trifles that make perfection.' Well, it's something like that
in tuning your receiver.

"Now I see that in this receiver you have separate controls for the
primary and secondary circuits. To tune in correctly you have to adjust
both circuits to the wave length of the special signal that you are trying
to get.

"First you start in with a tentative adjustment of the first primary. Fix
it, let us say, for between a third and a half of its maximum value. I see
that here the coupling between the primary and secondary is adjustable, so
place it at maximum at the start. Of course you know that maximum means
the position in which the windings are closest to each other.

"Then you fix up the secondary circuit for adjustment to the wave length,
turning it slowly from minimum to maximum until you come to the point
where the desired station is heard. When this is found, you again
readjust the primary until you find the point of maximum loudness.

"Now you see the advantage of this double control. If an interfering
station butts in, just decrease the coupling between primary and secondary
and then tune again the two circuits. You can feel pretty sure of cutting
out the interference and getting clearly just the station that you want."

"That's mighty good dope," said Bob. "I've had that trouble more than once
and haven't been quite clear as to the best way of getting around it."

"Then too," went on the radio expert, "you must be careful in adjusting
the tickler that gives the regenerative effect. Start in slowly by turning
the control knob toward the maximum. You'll soon strike a point where the
signal will be loud and clear. Now when you've got to that point, don't
overdo it. If you get too much regeneration, the quality of the notes
becomes distorted and before you know it you have only a jumble. Let well
enough alone is a good rule in tuning, as in many other things. When your
coffee's sweet enough, another spoonful of sugar will only spoil it. Keep
to the middle of the road. It isn't the loudest noise you want but the
sweetest music.

"Be careful, too," he urged, "not to have too brilliant a filament. It's
wholly unnecessary to have it at a white heat, and you don't want to burn
it out any more quickly than you have to. You can save money in reducing
the filament brightness by increasing the regeneration, which will make up
for the loss of brilliancy.

"Now by keeping these things in mind," he concluded, "you'll be able to
operate your set to the best advantage and get the satisfaction you are
looking for."

"We certainly hope to, anyway," said Bob. "We've put a lot of work and
quite a little money into this outfit, and we'd be mightily disappointed
if we didn't get good results."

"There's not much doubt about that, I think," remarked Frank Brandon. "You
ought to see some of the sets I come across! They look to be regular
nightmares, but they get passable results, anyway. Radio is certainly
getting to be a country-wide craze. Only the other day I was at one of the
big broadcasting stations, and the manager told me that they were actually
having trouble to get performers, there is such a demand for them. They
seem to be especially hard up for novelty acts--something out of the
ordinary. People get tired of the same old programmes night after night."

"Say!" exclaimed Bob, struck by a sudden thought. "Why wouldn't that be
just the thing for Larry when he gets a little better? He could do his
bird imitations just as well as ever, and he could do it as well sitting
in a chair, as far as that goes."

"Bob, you said something!" exclaimed Joe, slapping him on the back.
"That's just the kind of thing that would appeal to people, too. I'll bet
he'd be a hit from the beginning."

"Who is Larry?" asked Mr. Brandon, curiously.

The excited boys told him all about their acquaintance with Larry and Tim
up to the time of the almost fatal accident in the theater. Brandon
listened attentively, and when they had finished sat thinking for several
minutes.

"Yes, I think it could be arranged all right," he said at last. "I know
the manager of one big New Jersey broadcasting station personally, and I'm
sure he'd be willing to give your friend a try-out. If he's as good as you
say he is, they'd probably be glad to put him on the pay roll. From what
you tell me, his act is certainly a novelty, and that's what they want."

CHAPTER XII

A GLAD ANNOUNCEMENT

"We'll go and see Larry as soon as we get out of school to-morrow, and see
what he says about it," said Bob. "But I guess there's no doubt of what
he'll want to do. I know he's mighty worried about the future. He told me
he didn't have much money saved up, and what he did have must be about
gone by this time."

"You do that," agreed Brandon. "And if he thinks favorably of the idea,
I'll find time to go with him and you to the station I spoke of, and give
him an introduction to the manager and see that he gets a try-out."

"That's mighty good of you, Mr. Brandon," said Joe. "Larry is such a fine
fellow that when you get to know him you'll feel as interested in seeing
him get along as we are."

"That's likely enough," said Brandon. "Anyway, if we didn't help each
other out a little, this old world wouldn't be much of a place to live
in."

After a little further conversation, Brandon rose to go. "I've got a
pretty busy day ahead of me to-morrow, so I think I'd better turn in
rather early to-night," he said. "Just give me a call at the hotel any
time you want me, or, better yet, come and pay me a visit in person. You
know you'll always be welcome."

"You bet we'll come," promised Jimmy.

"Jimmy's thinking of some special milk chocolate you gave him once, and is
hoping you may have some more of it," laughed Joe.

"I wasn't thinking anything of the kind!" exclaimed Jimmy, indignantly.
"What do you think I am, anyway?"

"We'd hate to tell you that," said Herb, with a wicked grin. "It would
hurt your feelings too much, Doughnuts."

"I think I know what chocolate he refers to," said Brandon, laughing. "And
I don't wonder that you remember it, Jimmy. It certainly was good, but I'm
afraid you won't be able to find any more like it around here. It was sent
to me from Vermont by a married sister of mine who lives there."

"Poor old Jimmy!" exclaimed Bob. "You're out of luck this time, old timer.
If you had only known that, you wouldn't have had to make that
heartbreaking search all over Clintonia."

"Oh, I didn't mind it so much," said his good-natured friend. "I had a lot
of fun sampling all the different varieties, anyway."

"I'll say you did," said Herb. "I'll bet you were glad of an excuse."

"Don't need an excuse," retorted Jimmy. "I guess there's no law against
eating chocolate, is there?"

"If there were, you'd be serving a life sentence now," said Joe,
heartlessly.

"From the way you talk, I guess you don't like chocolate, so you won't
want any of this," and Jimmy proceeded to unwrap a sizable bundle that he
had brought with him, but had forgotten in the excitement of Brandon's
visit.

"I didn't say that, did I?" asked Joe, in a tone of injured innocence.

"No such luck," said Jimmy. "Maybe if you didn't want any, the rest of us
might get enough for once. But I suppose you'll want it all, as usual."

"Nothing of the kind," denied Joe. "I'm perfectly willing to go on a
fifty-fifty basis. Half for me and half for the rest is all I ask. That's
perfectly fair, isn't it?"

"It's fair enough for you, perhaps, but it doesn't make much of a hit with
us," laughed Bob. "Don't take any notice of him, Jimmy. Just take your
knife and break that chocolate up into lumps, and let's find out what it
tastes like."

"You'd better wait a few minutes and sample this, Mr. Brandon," said
Jimmy, doing as Bob directed. "I'll guarantee that it's the best to be
gotten in Clintonia, anyway. I've shopped around this town looking for
your brand of chocolate until I'm an expert in that line."

The chocolate disappeared as if by magic, and Frank Brandon rose once more
to go.

"I'm really going this time," he laughed. "It won't make any difference if
you bring out a dozen packages, Jimmy."