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WALTER AND THE WIRELESS

By Sara Ware Bassett

_The Invention Series_

PAUL AND THE PRINTING PRESS
STEVE AND THE STEAM ENGINE
TED AND THE TELEPHONE
WALTER AND THE WIRELESS

[Illustration: "K Y W Chicago, Illinois. Stand by fifteen minutes
for----." FRONTISPIECE. _See page_ 208.]

The Invention Series

WALTER AND
THE WIRELESS

BY
SARA WARE BASSETT

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY
WILLIAM F. STECHER

BOSTON
LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY
1923

_Copyright, 1923_,
BY LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY.

_All rights reserved_

Published March, 1923

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

To
PAUL MARBLE
AND HIS COLLIE BOBS,
THIS BOOK IS AFFECTIONATELY
DEDICATED

CONTENTS

CHAPTER                                                PAGE

    I HIS HIGHNESS                                        1

   II THE NEW JOB                                        17

  III WHAT WORRIED MRS. KING                             36

   IV WALTER MAKES HIS BOW TO HIS EMPLOYER               50

    V THE CONQUEST OF ACHILLES                           64

   VI HIS HIGHNESS IN A NEW ROLE                         75

  VII THE PURSUIT OF LOLA                                92

 VIII A BLUNDER AND WHAT CAME OF IT                     104

   IX MORE CLUES                                        116

    X BOB                                               127

   XI THE DECISION                                      138

  XII LESSONS                                           147

 XIII INFORMATION FROM A NEW SOURCE                     162

  XIV BOB AS PEDAGOGUE                                  169

   XV TIDINGS                                           183

  XVI MIRACLES                                          197

 XVII THE LAWS OF THE AIR                               210

XVIII THE NET TIGHTENS                                  228

  XIX WALTER STEPS INTO THE BREACH                      238

   XX THE RETURN OF THE WANDERERS                       248

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

"K Y W CHICAGO, ILLINOIS. STAND BY FIFTEEN MINUTES
  FOR----"                                       _Frontispiece_

                                                          PAGE

THE TWO BOYS WOULD DISCUSS BOATS, FISHING AND
  KINDRED INTERESTS                                         76

"YOU WILL GET ALL THE WIRELESS COMING TO YOU,
  THAT'S ALL. TAKE IT FROM ME"                             154

CLEARLY AND EVENLY THE MESSAGE TICKED ITSELF OFF.
  THEN THERE WAS SILENCE                                   240

WALTER AND THE WIRELESS

CHAPTER I

HIS HIGHNESS

His Highness came by the nickname honestly enough and yet those who
heard it for the first time had difficulty in repressing a smile at
the incongruity of the title. In fact perhaps no term could have been
found that would have been less appropriate. For Walter King possessed
neither dignity of rank nor of stature. On the contrary he was a
short, snub-nosed boy of fifteen, the epitome of good humor and
democracy.

His hair was red and towsled, his face spangled with great golden
freckles which sea winds and sunshine had multiplied until there was
scarce room for another on his beaming countenance. Hands and arms
were freckled too, for when one lives in a bathing suit six months of
the year and is either in the water or on it most of the time the skin
fails to retain its pristine whiteness of hue. But His Highness did
not care a fig for that. He was far too busy baiting eel and lobster
traps, mending fish nets, untangling lines, and painting boats to give
a thought to his personal beauty.

Indeed his mother often bewailed the fact that he was not more
interested in his appearance and there were times when it seemed as if
she were right. Certainly when her son ambled home at dusk with every
rebellious hair standing upended upon his head and a string of
flounders dripping salt from the tips of their slimy tails she was
justified to a degree in wishing he had more regard for the niceties
of life.

"Look at the mess you're making!" she would pipe indignantly. "I've
just mopped this floor, Walter."

"You have? Now isn't that the dickens! Well, no matter, Ma; I'll swab
the place down again when I've finished cleaning these fish. They're
beauties, aren't they? A batch of them fried won't go bad for supper
to-night. I'm hungry as a bear. Shouldn't think I'd eaten anything in
ten years. Say, Ma, what do you s'pose? Dave Corbett was out in the
_Nancy_ three hours and never got a bite. What do you think of that?
The wind died down, his engine got stalled, and he and Hosey Talbot
had to row home from the Bell Reef Shoals. Haw, haw! Maybe I didn't
roar when I saw them come pulling in against the tide, mad as two
man-eating sharks. Fit to harpoon the first person they met, they
were. I sung out and asked them were they practicing for the Harvard
and Yale boat race and Dave was that peeved he shied an oarlock after
me. Haw, haw, haw!"

"You ought not to provoke Dave, Walter."

"Provoke him? But he was provoked already, Ma. There's no harm
putting an extra stick on the fire when it's burning, anyhow. Besides,
Dave is never in earnest when he bawls me out. He just likes to hear
himself scold."

"He has a terrible temper."

"Oh, I know half the town is scart to death of him. But he always will
take a jolly from me. We understand each other, Dave and I. Say, Ma,
these rubber boots leak. Did you know that? Yes, siree! They leak like
sieves. I might as well be without 'em."

Mrs. King sighed.

"I don't see," murmured she, "how you manage to go through everything
you have so quickly, Walter. Nothing you wear lasts you more than a
week."

"Oh, I say, make it a month. Do, now!"

He saw his mother smile faintly.

"Well, a month then."

"You couldn't stretch it to two?"

"Not possibly. Four weeks seems to be your limit."

The sharpness of her tone, however, had weakened.

"Four weeks, eh? I did think I'd had these rubber boots longer than
that. It is amazing how attached you can get to things even in a
little while."

Holding aloft the knife with which he was preparing to behead the
unlucky flounders, His Highness gazed reflectively down at his feet.

"It's awful that I have to keep having so many things, isn't it? I
hate to be costing you money all the time. Now if you'd only let me
ship for the Grand Banks when the _Katie B._ goes out----"

"Walter! What is the use of digging up that old bone again? I never
shall let you ship for the Grand Banks or any other Banks so long as I
live. We've had this out hundreds of times before. You know you and
Bob are all I've got in the world. Do you suppose I want you lost in a
fog and never heard from again?"

"Oh, Great Scott, Ma! They don't lose fishing boats now as they used
to. They carry wireless, and the fleet keeps in touch every minute."

"The dories have no wireless aboard them," observed Mrs. King grimly.

"I suppose not, no, probably they don't," His Highness admitted
reluctantly.

"Anyway, wireless or no wireless, you are not going on a fishing
cruise to the Grand Banks."

"I hear you, Ma," grinned the boy.

"There is plenty of work right here on the land if you're looking for
it. Why must you always be wanting to go to sea to earn money?"

"Faith, Mother, I don't know," laughed Walter. "I expect it's because
I see chores to do when I'm afloat that I can't see ashore. It is the
way I was born."

"A poor way."

"Maybe it is. At any rate I can't help it."

"I'm afraid you do not try to help it very hard."

The lad shrugged his shoulders.

"There's that chance you have to hire out at the Crowninshields' for
the summer."

"Those snobs."

"Beggars cannot be choosers. Besides, they may not be snobs at all.
What makes you think they are?"

"Oh, I don't mind the lugs they put on," protested Walter, evading the
issue. "I suppose all New York swells do that. It's what they want me
for that gets my goat." Again the knife he held was tragically
upraised. "How would you like to be nursemaid to six or eight
brainless little pups no bigger than rats? Not but what I like dogs.
I'd like nothing better than to own a fine dog of some spirit. But
those imitations! Why, before a week was out, I'd have their necks
wrung."

"Mr. Crowninshield promised to pay you well."

"What's money if all the kids in town are going to josh you?"

"Money is a good deal when you need it." His mother shook her head
gravely. "Have you ever considered how badly we are in want of money,
Walter?"

"What do you mean, Ma?" The boy wheeled about, startled.

"I haven't said anything about it, dear, because I could not bear to
have you boys bothered," was the quiet answer. "But lately things have
not been going well and I have been pretty much worried. The money
your Uncle Henry invested for us isn't paying any dividends; there
seems to be something the matter with the company's affairs. As for
your Uncle Mark Miller, I've heard nothing from him in months. His
ship was to put in at Shanghai for cargo and I ought to have had a
letter by now; but none has come and I am afraid something must be the
trouble. He is a good brother and never fails to send me money. I can
ill afford to be without help now when the mortgage is coming due and
I have so many bills to meet. It takes a deal of money to live
nowadays. You boys do not realize that."

"Why, I had no idea you were fussed, Mother, and I'm sure Bob hadn't
either," declared Walter soberly.

"Then I have done better than I thought I had," returned his mother,
with the shadow of a smile. "I wanted to keep it secret if I could."

"But you shouldn't have tried to keep it a secret, Mater dear," Walter
replied. "I'm sure we'd rather know--at least I would."

"But what use is it?"

"Use? Why, all the use in the world, Ma. I shall go ahead and take Mr.
Crowninshield's job for one thing."

"But you said----"

"Shucks! I was only fooling about the dogs, Mother. I shan't really
mind exercising and taking care of them at all. Of course, I won't
deny I'd rather they were Great Danes or police dogs; I'd even prefer
Airedales or Cockers. Still I suppose these little mopsey Pekingese
must have some brains or the Lord would not have made them. No doubt I
shall get used to them in time."

"It is only for the summer vacation anyway, you know," ventured his
mother. "The Crowninshields go back to New York in October."

"I certainly ought to be able to bear up a few months," laughed
Walter, with a ludicrously wry twist of his mouth. "I hate to think
you've been bothered and have been keeping it all to yourself."

"Misery does like company," Mrs. King returned with an unsteady laugh.
"I believe I feel better already for having told you. But you must not
worry, dear. We shall pull through all right, I guess. How I came to
speak of it I don't know. It was only that it seemed such a pity to
toss the Crowninshield offer aside without even considering it. Nobody
knows where it might end. The village people say Mr. Crowninshield is
a very generous man, especially if he takes a fancy to anybody."

"But he may not take a fancy to me."

"He must have done so already to be asking you to help with the dogs."

"Nonsense, Ma! Did you think Mr. Crowninshield picked me out himself?
Why, he's never laid eyes on me. That great privilege is still in
store for him. No, he simply told Jerry Thomas, the caretaker, to find
somebody for the job before the family arrived. He doesn't care a darn
who it is so long as he has a person who can be trusted with his
priceless pups. Why, I heard the other day that a dealer from New York
had offered five thousand dollars for the smallest one."

"Walter!"

"Straight goods!"

"Five thousand dollars for a dog!" gasped Mrs. King.

Her son chuckled at her incredulity.

"Sure!"

"But it's a fortune," murmured she. "I had no idea there was a dog on
earth worth that much."

"All of them are not."

"But five thousand dollars!" she repeated. "Why, Walter, I wouldn't
have you responsible for a creature like that for anything in the
world. You might as well attempt to be custodian of a lot of gold
bonds. I shouldn't have a happy moment or sleep a wink thinking of it.
Suppose some of the little wretches were to run away and get lost? Or
suppose they were to be stolen? Or they might get sick and die on your
hands."

"That is why they want a responsible person to keep an eye on them."

His Highness squared his shoulders and threw out his chest.

"But you are not a responsible person," burst out Mrs. King with
unflattering candor.

"Mother!"

"Well--are you?" she insisted.

The boy's figure shriveled.

"No," he confessed frankly, "I'm afraid I'm not."

"Of course you're not," continued his mother with the same brutal
truthfulness. "It isn't that you do not mean to be, sonny," added she
kindly. "But your mind wanders off on all sorts of things instead of
the thing you're doing. That is why you do not get on better in
school. All your teachers say you are bright enough if you only had
some concentration to back it up. What you can be thinking of all the
time I cannot imagine; but certainly it isn't your lessons."

"I know," nodded Walter without resentment. "My mind does flop about
like a kite. I think of everything but what I ought to. It's a rotten
habit."

"Well, all I can say is you'd be an almighty poor one to look after a
lot of valuable dogs," sniffed his mother.

"I'll bet I could do it if I set out to."

"But would you set out to--that is the question? Would you really put
your entire attention on those dogs so that other people could drop
them from their minds? That is what taking care means."

"I couldn't promise. I could only try."

"I should never dare to have you undertake it."

"That settles it, Ma," announced His Highness. "I've evidently got to
prove to you that you are wrong. I'm going up to Crowninshields' this
minute to tell Jerry he can count on me from July until October."

"You're crazy."

"Wait and see."

"I know what I'll see," was the sharp retort. "I shall see all those
puppies kicking up their heels and racing off to Provincetown, and Mr.
Crowninshield insisting that you either find them and bring them back
or pay him what they cost him."

"Don't you believe it."

"That is what will happen," was the solemn prophecy.

"But you were keen for me to take the job."

"That was before I knew what the little rats were worth."

"You just thought it was a cheap sort of a position and that I was to
race round and make it pleasant for a lot of ordinary curs, didn't
you?" interrogated the lad with mock indignation.

In spite of herself his mother smiled.

"Well, you see you were wrong," went on Walter. "It is not that sort
of thing at all. It is a job for a trustworthy man, Jerry Thomas said,
and will bring in good wages."

"It ought to," replied his mother sarcastically, "if a person must
spend every day for three months sitting with his eyes glued on those
mites watching every breath they draw."

"It isn't just days, Mother; I'd have to be there nights as well."

"_What!_"

"That's what Jerry told me. I'd have to sleep on the place. Mr.
Crowninshield wants some one there all the time."

"But Walter----!" Mrs. King broke off in dismay.

"I know that would mean leaving you alone now that Bob has a regular
position at the Seaver Bay Wireless station. Still, why should you
mind? I have always been gone all day, anyhow; and at night I sleep so
soundly that you yourself have often said burglars might carry away
the bed from under me and I not know it."

"You are not much protection, that's a fact," confessed Mrs. King.
"Fortunately, though, I am not a timid person. It is not that I am
afraid to stay here alone. My chief objection is that it seems foolish
to run a great house like this simply for myself."

"Couldn't you get some one to come and keep you company?"

"Who, I should like to know?"

"Why--why--well, I haven't thought about it. Of course there's Aunt
Marcia King."

"Mercy on us!" exclaimed his mother, instantly flaring up. "I'd rather
see the evil one himself put in an appearance than your Aunt Marcia.
Of all the fault-finding, critical, sharp-tongued creatures in the
world she is the worst. Why, I'd let burglars carry away every stick
and stone I possess and myself thrown in before I would ask her here
to board."

"My, Mother! I'd no idea you had such a temper. You're as bad as Dave
Corbett," asserted Walter teasingly.

His mother tossed her head but he saw her flush uncomfortably.

"I suppose you wouldn't want a regular boarder," suggested the boy in
order to turn the conversation.

"A _boarder_!" There was less disapproval than surprise in the
ejaculation, however.

"Lots of people in the town do take summer boarders," added he.

"The thought never entered my head before," reflected his mother
aloud. "There certainly is plenty of room in the house, and we have a
royal view of the water. Besides, there's the garden. Strangers are
always coming here in vacation time and asking if they may look at it
or sketch it. It never seemed anything very remarkable to me for most
of the flowers have sown themselves and grow like weeds, but of course
there's no denying the hollyhocks, poppies, and larkspur are pretty.
But visitors always call it wonderful."

"Most likely you could get a big price if you were to rent rooms."

"I'm sure I could," replied Mrs. King thoughtfully. "It would help
toward the mortgage and the other bills, too. I've half a mind to try
it, Walter."

"It would mean extra work for you."

"Pooh! What do I care for that? Not a fig! In fact, with both of you
boys away I'd rather be busy than not," was the quick retort.

"Do you suppose Bob would mind?"

"Bob? Why, he's seldom at home nowadays. Why should he care?"

"Aunt Marcia might think----" began the boy mischievously. But the
comment was cut short.

"Oh, I know what your Aunt Marcia would say," broke in Mrs. King.
"She'd hold up her hands in horror and announce that it was beneath
the dignity of the family to take boarders."

They both laughed.

"I believe the very notion of scandalizing her will be what will
decide me," concluded his mother with finality. "I'll put an
advertisement in the Boston paper to-morrow and see what luck I have.
If the right people do not turn up, why I don't have to take them."

"Sure you don't."

"It's a good plan, a splendid plan, Walter. Boarders will give me
company and money too. I wonder it never occurred to me to do it
before." Then she patted the lad's shoulder, adding playfully, "I
guess if you have brains in one direction you must have them in
another. Still, as I said before, I do not fancy your being
responsible for those dogs."

"Pooh! You quit worrying, Ma, or I shall be sorry I told you they were
blue ribbon pups."

"I should have heard of it, never fear. You hear of everything in this
town. You can't help it. Like as not everybody in the place will know
by to-morrow morning that I am going to take boarders. Luckily I don't
care--that's one good thing. And as to the dogs, if you are resolved
to accept that position all I can say is that you must keep a head on
your shoulders. You cannot hire out for a job unless you are prepared
to give a full return for the money paid you. It is not honest. So
think carefully what you mean to do before you embark. And remember,
if you get into some careless scrape you cannot come back on me for
money for I haven't any to hand over."

"I shall shoulder my own blame," responded Walter, drawing in his
chin.

"Well and good then. If you are ready to do that, it is your affair
and I have nothing more to say," announced Mrs. King, preparing to
leave the room.

But Walter stayed her on the threshold.

"I don't see," he began, "why you always seem to expect I'm going to
get into a scrape. You are never looking for trouble with Bob."

"Bob! Bless your heart I never have to! You know that as well as I do.
Any one could trust Bob until the Day of Judgment. He never forgets a
word you tell him. Ask him to do an errand and it is as good as done.
You can drop it from your mind. From a little child he was dependable
like that. His teachers couldn't say enough about him. Wasn't he
always at the head of his class? The way he's turned out is no
surprise. Think of his picking up wireless enough outside school hours
to get a radio job during the war, and afterward that fine position at
Seaver Bay! Few lads his age could have done it. And think of the
messages he's entrusted with--government work, and sinking ships, and
goodness knows what not!"

The proud mother ceased for lack of breath.

"I wish I was like Bob," sighed Walter gloomily.

"Nonsense!" was the instant exclamation. "You're yourself, and
scatter-brain as you are, I'd want you no different. You're but a lad
yet. When you are Bob's age you may be like him. Who knows?"

"I'm afraid not," came dismally from Walter. "I haven't started out as
Bob did."

"What if you haven't? There's time enough to catch up if you hurry.
And anyway, I do not want my children all alike. Variety is the spice
of life. I wouldn't have you patterned after Bob if I could speak the
word."

"You wouldn't?" the boy brightened.

"Indeed I wouldn't! Who would I be patching torn trousers or darning
ripped sweaters for if you were like Bob, I'd like to know? Who'd be
pestering me to hunt up his cap and mittens? And who would I be frying
clams for?"

"Bob never could abide clam fritters, could he?" put in the younger
brother.

"Bob never had any frivolities," mused Mrs. King, shaking her head.
"Sometimes I've almost wished he had if only to keep the rest of us in
countenance. Many's the time I've feared lest he was going to die he
was that near perfect."

"Well, Ma, you haven't had to lie awake worrying because I was too
good for this world, have you?" chuckled His Highness, breaking into a
grin.

His mother regarded him affectionately.

"Oh, you'll make your way too, sonny, some day. It won't be as Bob has
done it; but you'll make it nevertheless. Folks are going to do things
for you simply because they cannot help it."

The boy studied her with a puzzled expression.

"What do you mean, Mater?"

As if coming out of a reverie Mrs. King started, the mistiness that
had softened her eyes vanishing.

"There! Look at the way you've splashed up my nice clean sink!"
complained she tartly. "Did any one ever see such a child--always
messing up everything! Come, clear out of here and take your fish with
you. It does seem as if you needed four nursemaids and a valet at your
heels to pick up after you. Be off this minute."

With a cloth in one hand and a bar of soap in the other, she elbowed
him away from the dishpan.

"You'll fry these flounders for supper, won't you, Ma?" called the lad
as he disappeared into the shed.

"Fry 'em? I reckon I'll have to. It's wicked to catch fish and not use
'em."

But he saw his mother's eyes twinkle and her grumbling assent did not
trouble him.

CHAPTER II

THE NEW JOB

May at Lovell's Harbor was one of the most beautiful seasons of the
year. In fact the inhabitants of the town often remarked that they put
up with the winters the small isolated village offered for the sake of
its springs and summers. Certain it was that when easterly storms
swept the marshes and lashed the harbor into foam; when every boat
that struggled out of the channel returned whitened to the gunwale
with ice, there was little to induce anybody to take up residence in
the hamlet. How cold and blue the water looked! How the surf boomed up
on the lonely beach and the winds howled and whined around the eaves
of the low cottages!

One buttoned himself tightly into a greatcoat then, twisted a muffler
many times about his neck, pulled his cap over his ears, and rushed
for school with a velocity that almost equaled the scudding schooners
whose sails billowed large against the horizon. At least that was what
His Highness, Walter King, invariably did.

But from the instant the breath of spring stole into the air,--ah,
then Lovell's Harbor became a different place altogether. The stems of
the willows fringing the small fresh-water ponds mellowed to bronze
before one's very eyes; the dull reaches of salt grass turned emerald;
the steely tint of the sea softened to azure and glinted golden in the
sun. How shrill sounded the cries of the redwings in the marsh! How
jolly the frogs' twilight chorus!

The miracle went on with amazing rapidity. Soon you were scouring the
hollows in the woods for arbutus or splashing bare-legged into the
bogs for cowslips. You even ventured knee-deep into the sea which
although still chill was no longer frigid. And then, before you knew
it, you were hauling out your fishing tackle and looking over your
flies; inspecting the old dory and calking her seams with a coat of
fresh paint. Then came the raking of the leaves, the uncovering of the
hollyhocks, and the burning of brush; and through the mists of smoke
that rose high in air you could hear the resonant chee-ee of the
blackbirds swinging on the reeds along the margin of the creek.

And afterward, when summer had really made its appearance, what days
of blue and gold followed! Was ever sky so cloudless, grass so vividly
green, or ocean so sparkling? Ah, a boy never lacked amusement now! He
wriggled into his bathing suit directly after breakfast and was off to
the shore to swim, fish, or sail, or do any of the thousand-and-one
alluring things that turned up. And things always did turn up in that
small horseshoe where the boats made in. It was the club of Lovell's
Harbor.

Here all the men of the village congregated daily to smoke, swap
jokes, and heckle those who worked.

"That's no way to mend a net, Eph," one of the spectators would
protest. "Where was you fetched up, man? Tote the durn thing over here
and I'll show you how they do it off the Horn."

Or another member of the audience would call:

"Was you reckonin' you'd have enough paint in that keg to finish your
yawl, Eddie? Never in the world! What are you so scrimpin' of it for?
Slither it on good and thick and let it trickle down into the cracks.
'Twill keep 'em tight."

Oh, one learned to curb his temper and bend to the higher criticism if
he carried his work down to the beach. He got an abundance of advice
whether he asked for it or not and for the most part the counsel was
sound and helpful. There you heard also tales of tempests, wrecks,
strange ports, and sea serpents,--weird tales that chilled your blood;
and sometimes the piping note of an old chanty was raised by one whose
sailing days were now only a memory.

What marvel that to be a boy at Lovell's Harbor was a boon to be
coveted even if along with the distinction went a throng of homely
tasks such as shucking clams, cleaning cod, baiting lobster pots, and
running errands? No cake is all frosting and no chowder all broth. You
had to take the bad along with the good if you lived at Lovell's
Harbor. And while you were sandwiching in work and fun what an
education you got! Why, it was better than a dozen schools. Not only
did you learn to swim like a spaniel, pull a strong oar, hoist a sail,
and gain an understanding of winds and tides, but also you came to
handle tools with an ease no manual training school could teach you.
You made a wooden pin do if you had no nail; and a bit of rope serve
if the whittled pin were lacking. Instead of hurrying to a shop to
purchase new you patched up the old, and the triumph of doing it
afforded a satisfaction very pleasant to experience.

Moreover, as a result, you had more pennies in your pocket and more
brains in your head. Both Bob and Walter King, as well as most of the
other village lads, outranked the town-bred boy in all-round practical
skill. They may not have cut such a fine figure at golf or dancing;
perhaps they did not excel at Latin or French; but they had at the
tips of their tongues numberless useful facts which they had tried out
and proven workable and which no city dweller could possibly have
gleaned.

His Highness might be freckled and towsled and, as his mother
affirmed, forgetful and careless, but like a sponge his active young
mind had soaked up a deal no books could have given him. You would
best beware how you jollied Walter King or put him down for a "Rube."
More than likely you would later regret your snap judgment.

No doubt it was this realization that had stimulated Jerry Thomas to
ask him to come to Surfside, the Crowninshields' big summer estate,
and look after the dogs. Jerry was an old resident of Lovell's Harbor,
and having watched the boy grow up, he unquestionably knew what he
was about. That there were plenty of other boys at the Harbor to
choose from was certain. If the honor descended to His Highness rest
assured it was not without reason.

Hence Jerry was not only pleased but immensely gratified when on the
morning following Walter rounded the corner of the great barn and
appeared in the doorway.

"I've come to say Yes to that job you offered me the other day,"
announced he, without wasting words on preliminaries.

"Good, youngster!"

"When shall you want me?"

"When can you come?" grinned Jerry.

He was a lank, sharp-featured man with china blue eyes that narrowed
to a mere slit when he smiled, and from the corners of which
crowsfeet, like fan-shaped streaks of light from the rising sun,
radiated across his temples. His skin was tanned to the hue of old
hickory and deep down in its furrows were lines of white. He had a big
nose that was always sunburned, powerful hands with a reddish fuzz on
their backs, and gnarled fingers that bore the scars of innumerable
nautical disasters. But the chief glory he possessed was a neatly
tattooed schooner that sailed under full canvas upon his forearm and
bore beneath it the inscription:

    The Mollie D. The finest ship afloat.

The words had been intended as a tribute rather than a challenge for
Jerry was a peaceful soul, but unfortunately they had proved
provocative of many a brawl, and had the truth been known a certain
odd slant of Jerry's chin could have been traced back to this
apparently harmless assertion. Possibly had this mate of the _Mollie
D._ foreseen into what straits his boast was to lead him he might not
have expressed it so baldly in all the naked glory of blue ink; but
with the sentiment once immortalized what choice had he but to defend
it? Therefore, being no coward but a sturdy seaman with a swinging
undercut, he had in times past delivered many a blow in order to
uphold the _Mollie D.'s_ nautical reputation, after which encounters
his challengers were wont to emerge with a more profound respect not
only for the bark but for Jerry Thomas as well.

All that, however, was long ago. Since the great storm of 1890 when so
many ships had perished and the _Mollie D._, bound from Norfolk to
Fairhaven, had gone down with the rest, Jerry had abandoned the sea.
It was not the perils of the deep, nevertheless, that had driven him
landward, or the fear of future disasters; it was only that since his
first love was lost he could not bring himself to ship on any other
vessel.

Accordingly he took to the shore and for a time a very strange misfit
he was there. How he fumed and fidgeted and roamed from one place to
another, searching for some spot in which his restless spirit would
find peace! And then one day he had wandered into Lovell's Harbor and
there he had stayed ever since. For several seasons he had taken out
sailing parties of summer boarders or piloted amateur fishermen out to
the Ledges; but the timidity and lack of sophistication of these city
patrons at length so rasped his nerves that he gave up the task and
was about to betake himself to pastures new when he fell beneath the
eye of Mr. Glenmore Archibald Crowninshield, a New York banker, who
had bought the strip of land forming one arm of the bay and was on the
point of erecting there a diminutive summer palace.

From that instant Jerry's fortune was made. Mr. Crowninshield was a
keen student of human nature and was immediately attracted to the
sailor with his ambling gait and twinkling blue eyes. Moreover, the
New Yorker happened to be in search of just such a man to look out for
his interests when he was not at Lovell's Harbor. Hence Jerry was
elevated to the post of caretaker and delegated to keep guard over the
edifice that was about to be erected.

In view of the fact that up to the moment Jerry had been the most
care-free mortal alive and had never from day to day been able to
remember the whereabouts of his sou'wester or his rubber boots, his
ensuing transformation was nothing short of a miracle. Promptly
settling down with doglike fidelity he began mildly to urge on the
lagging carpenters; but presently, magnificent in his wrath, he rose
above them, whiplash in hand, and drove them forward. His watery blue
eyes followed every stick of timber, every foot of piping, every nail
that was placed. There was no escaping his watchfulness. If corners
were not true or moldings did not meet he saw and called attention to
it. Many a time a slipshod workman was ready to throw him over the
cliff into the sea and perhaps might have done so had he not been
conscious of the justice of the criticism.

In consequence the Crowninshield house was built on honor; and when
the bills began to come in and showed a marked falling off in
magnitude the owner of the mansion could not but express gratitude.
Jerry, however, did not covet thanks. Instead he tagged along at his
employer's heels, proudly calling notice first to one skillful bit of
work and then to another. The house and all that concerned it became
his hobby. It was to him what the _Mollie D._ had been, the primary
interest of his life. He knew every inch of plumbing; where every
shut-off, valve, ventilator, and stopcock was located. Moreover, he
could have told, had not his jaws been clamped together tightly as a
scallop shell, exactly how much every article in the mansion cost.

Later he superintended the grading of the lawns, the laying out of
tennis courts, and the building of garages, boathouses, and
bathhouses. By this time Mr. Crowninshield would willingly have
trusted him with every farthing he possessed so complete was his
confidence in his man Friday.

Jerry, however, was modest. He declared he had only done his duty and
insisted that it go at that. But having set this high standard of
fidelity for himself it followed that he demanded a like faithfulness
in others; and if he were not merciful to those who came under his
dictatorship at least no one of them could deny that he was just.
Hence Walter King did not shrink from the prospect of working with
him, stern though he was reputed to be. One can only do one's best and
that the boy was determined to do. Therefore he smiled up into Jerry's
misty blue eyes and answered:

"I could begin work when school closes toward the end of June."

"Humph! I wish you could make it earlier. Well, we must put up with
that since it is the best you can do. Goodness knows I'd be the last
one to discourage learning in the young. I got all too little of it
when I was a shaver. Not a day goes by that I don't wish I'd had my
chance. I shipped to sea when I was only twelve--would go--nothing
would stop me--and I've been knocking round ever since, picking up
here and there what scraps of knowledge I could get. Don't let
anything tempt you to sea till you're full-grown, sonny, for you'll
live to regret it, sure as my name is Jerry Taylor."

Walter flushed guiltily, wondering as he did so whether Jerry's little
blue eyes had bored their way into his skull and read there his
aspirations.

"Nope!" went on the sailor. "Take it from me, seafaring is a man's
job. You much better stay ashore and----" he stopped as if at a loss
and then smiling broadly added, "play governess to a pack of dogs."

"I figure that is about what I'm going to do," replied His Highness
with a comic air of resignation.

"Well, what's the matter with that?" inquired Jerry sharply. "You'll
be getting paid for it, won't you--well paid? And you'll have cozy
quarters all to yourself, and three good meals a day. Land alive! Some
folks want the earth! Why, when I was your age, I was swung up in a
hammock between decks with not an inch of space that I could call my
own. If I wanted to stow away anything I hadn't a place to put it
where it wasn't common property. As for meals I took what I could get
and was thankful that I didn't starve. And here you come along and
tilt up your freckled pug nose at a room and board and ten a week.
Bah! What's come over this generation anyway?"

"I wasn't turning up my nose," Walter ventured to protest. "It turns
up anyhow."

"Then you need to be careful how you make it go higher," grinned
Jerry.

"And--and--I had no idea you meant to pay me that much."

"What do you think we are up here?" bristled Jerry. "A sweatshop? No
siree! We stand for the square deal every time, we do. Only you've got
to understand, young one, that it's to be square on both sides. You're
to do no shirking; if you do you'll get fired so quick you'll wonder
what hit you. But if you do your part you need have no worries. Now
think good and plenty before you embark on the cruise."

"I have thought."

"All right then. We'll haul up anchor and be off the latter part of
June."

"You'll have to tell me exactly what you want me to do."

"Oh, I'll tell you right 'nough," drawled Jerry, with a humorous twist
of his lips. "You'll get a chart to sail by. Still, it won't wholly
cover your duties. The thing for you to do is to keep your eyes peeled
and look alive. Watch out and see where there's a hole an' be in that
hole so it won't be empty. That's the best recipe I know for being
useful."

"I'll try."

"If you honestly do that I reckon there'll be no cause for you to
worry," observed the caretaker kindly. "Towards the end of June, then,
I'll be on the lookout for you. Your quarters will be all ready,
shipshape and trim as a liner's cabin."

"Where will they be?" inquired Walter.

"Want to see 'em?"

"I'd like to, yes."

"I s'pose you would," nodded Jerry. "You can as well as not; only they
ain't fixed up as they'll be later. Look kinder dismal."

"Oh, I shan't mind."

The big man smiled at the eagerness of the boy's tone.

"Likely you ain't never been away from home before, son," said he, as
he took a key out of a glass case on the wall of the barn and slipped
it into his pocket.

"No--that is, not to stay."

"Quite some adventure, eh?"

The lad shot a bright glance toward him.

"Yes."

"Well, well! Count yourself lucky, youngster, that you've had a good
home and a good mother up to now; and bless your stars, too, that
since you are going to start branching out you're coming to a place
like Surfside rather'n somewhere else."

His voice was gentle and his misty eyes mistier than ever.

Striding ahead he crossed the lawn, unlocked a low building, and
mounting the stairs, stopped before a door in the hall above. With a
turn of the key it swung open, disclosing a small sheathed room
containing a white iron bed, bureau, table, chairs, and bookshelves.

"Think this will suit your Highness?" grinned he.

"It's--it's corking!" stammered Walter, almost too delighted to reply.

"'Tain't bad," admitted Jerry, strolling over to one of the windows
that faced the sea and looking out. "Mr. Crowninshield makes it a rule
never to stow away other folks where he wouldn't be stowed himself. It
isn't a bad principle, either. You'll have a couple of the chauffeurs
for company." With his thumb he motioned to other rooms flanking the
narrow hall. "They may josh you some at first. That's part of starting
out in the world. Keep a civil tongue in your head and if you don't
mind 'em they'll soon quit. If they don't it's up to you to find the
way to get on with 'em. Half of life is learning to shy round the
corners of the folks about you. And old Tim, who used to be gardener
for Mr. Crowninshield's father and has been in the family 'most half a
century, bides here, too. A rare soul, Tim. You'll like him. Everybody
does. Simple as a child, he is, and so gentle that it well-nigh breaks
his heart to kill a potato bug. You can count on Tim standing your
friend no matter what the rest may do, so cheer up."

"And the dogs?"

"Oh, the kennels, you mean? They're close by where you'll get the full
benefit of the pups' barking in the early morning," said Jerry, with a
twinkle. "'Twill give you a pleasant feeling to be certain your
charges are alive. Most often, though, they do no yammering until
about six, and goodness knows all Christians ought to be up at that
hour. You'll find the dogs fitted out comfortable as the rest of us.
They've a fine enclosure to stay in when they want to be out of doors;
a big airy room if it's better to have 'em under cover; steam heat
when it's cold; and blankets and brushes without end. Sometimes Lola,
the pet of 'em all, sleeps up at the big house; but mostly she's here
with the rest. There's too big a caravan of 'em to have the lot live
with the family. Besides, the folks like to sleep late in the morning
and not be disturbed by the noise of a pack of puppies. Then there's
guests here off and on. So take it all in all, the dogs are best by
themselves."

"But I don't know anything about taking care of dogs," faltered
Walter.

"I thought you'd had a dog yourself."

"So I had once. But he wasn't like any of these. He was just a dog.
All you had to do was to chuck him a bone."

"Well, you'll have a darn sight more to do for these critters than
that," announced Jerry.

"But how'll I know----" began the boy, alarmed by the prospect before
him.

"Oh, you'll get your instructions from the Madam, most likely--get 'em
all written down in black and white along with the history of every
dog. She'll tell you just what every one of 'em is to eat, and how
much; and where they're all to sleep. And if she don't Miss Nancy or
Mr. Dick will. You'll get yards and yards of directions before you're
through," chuckled Jerry. "You want to listen well to every word you
hear too, son, for these dogs ain't like your Towser--or whatever his
name was; a crumb of food too much might kill 'em. Or a blast of air."

"Scott!"

"Oh, there's no use getting panicky at the outset," declared Jerry
comfortably. "Follow orders and use your brains; and remember that if
you get addled you can always consult Tim. Tim has a world of common
sense and a heap of knowledge of odd sorts. And more than that, he's
never swept off his feet by the cost of things. Having been brought up
in the company of Rolls-Royce cars, and diamond rings, and
thousand-dollar dogs they don't move him an inch. He just treats 'em
same's he would anything else and often it's the best plan. Instead
of losing his head, and standing wringing his hands 'cause the prize
roses have got bugs on 'em he sets to work and kills the bugs; sprays
the plants same's he would ordinary bushes, and they go to growing
again like any other civilized flowers. An orchid ain't no more to him
than a buttercup. He's too used to 'em. He's used to dogs as well, and
with the shifting fashions he's seen during his fifty years with the
family he's had experience with most every kind of dog that ever was.
For there's fashions in dogs, you know, as well as in coats and hats.
So turn to Tim when you're in a tight place. He'll help you, never
fear."

"I hope he will," sighed His Highness ruefully. "I shall need him."

"Nonsense! Why, Mr. Dick has often cared for the pups when there was
no one else; and certainly you ought to have as many brains as he."

"Tell me about him."

"Richard? You've seen him round town lots of times--you must have. At
the village and other places."

"Oh, of course I've seen him," agreed Walter quickly. "In the summer
he drives past our house almost every day in his car. But I don't know
him any."

"You will now," asserted Jerry. "He's a great chap, Mr. Dick is! About
your age, too, I guess. Quite a mechanic and always tinkering with
tools and machinery. If there's anything wrong with the motor boat he
can usually fix her up all right. As for mending a car, he beats all
the chauffeurs out. They know it and have to say so. Likely you've
seen him fluking through the main street in his racer. She's a trim
little thing and could go like the wind if his Pa hadn't forbidden
letting out the engine. I reckon Mr. Crowninshield is afraid he'll
either kill himself or somebody else, and I will own the thing ain't
no proper toy for a lad his age. Still, city folks ain't content with
what would please you or me. They must have the biggest, the fastest,
the most expensive article there is or 'tain't good for nothin'. The
mere knowin' it's the biggest, fastest, and cost the most seems to
make 'em happy somehow. Funny, ain't it?"

His Highness did not reply. He was thinking.

"And Miss Nancy?" interrogated he presently.

"Ha! There's a girl for you!" ejaculated Jerry with enthusiasm.
"She'll be either seventeen or eighteen come June. Swims like a fish.
In fact, I ain't sure she couldn't outdistance some of 'em. And such
an oar as she pulls! It's strong and steady as any man's. Besides
that, she can beat the crowd at tennis, golf, and those other fool
games such folks play. Has a runabout of her own, too, and drives it
neat as a pin."

"She's better at sports than Mr. Dick, then."

"Oh, she can wipe the ground up with him," sniffed Jerry. "She can
swim overhand to the raft and get back almost before her brother has
started. By Guy! I never saw a woman swim as she does! Dick gets
kinder peeved with her sometimes when she jollies him. But let her car
play a prank and he has her, for she's no more idea what to do with
an engine than the man in the moon. She treats brother Richard with
proper respect then, I can tell you."

Walter smiled.

"And Mrs. Crowninshield?"

"She? She's all right! You'll like her and she'll like you--that is,
if you get on with the pups. Dogs are her hobby. What she don't know
about raisin' 'em ain't worth knowin'. But I just warn you not to
think that because she's so pleasant she's easy goin', 'cause she
ain't. Slip up on your job and she'll be down on you like a thousand
of brick. She's a fair-weather sailin' craft--that's what she is;
floats along nice as anything until something goes wrong and then--my
soul--but she kicks up a sea. Yet with all that you'll like her. We
all do. Almost everybody on the place would get down and let her walk
on 'em. She has a kind of way with her that makes you itch to please
her. Tim would let her cut his head clean off if she wanted to and I
ain't sure I wouldn't. Have a smart sore throat once and see the
things she'll do for you. And she'll do 'em herself, too--not set
other people on the job. I believe that woman has the biggest heart in
the world."

"And--and--Mr. Crowninshield?" ventured Walter.

"The boss?" Jerry cleared his throat and for the first time hesitated.
"You've got to understand the boss, my son," said he earnestly. "He
ain't like other men. And in order that you may, I better give you a
pointer or two for it will most probably save you trouble. The boss
is something like a big dog that barks fit to murder you and don't
mean a thing by it. You've seen the kind. To hear him go on when he's
roused you'd believe he was going to have your blood. My, how he does
orate!" Jerry smiled and shook his head indulgently. "I've seen the
men stand up before him with their knees shaking until you'd expect
'em to give way every second. And the master would rage and rage
because they'd done something he didn't want done. And then, like a
hurricane that's blown itself out, he'll calm down and the next you
know he's given you a smile that's made you forget all the rest of it.
That's him all over. Learn not to be afraid of him, that's the only
thing to do. He wouldn't hurt a fly really. He just gets to blusterin'
and tearin' round from force of habit. It don't mean nothin'--not a
thing in the world. And with all his money he ain't a mite cocky. To
see him you'd scarce dream he had a copper in his pocket. Yet he could
paper the house with thousand-dollar bills was he so minded. There's
no end to his money, seems to me. Just the same, you don't want to go
wastin' it for him on that account. Remember you ain't got the right
to, not havin' earned it. If he chooses to splash it round that's his
hunt. He made it. But it ain't yours or mine to slosh away. Jot that
down in your log. It may help you later."

Jerry paused.

"You deal square and honorable with the boss, standing up to what
you've done like you was a trooper at your gun, and he'll deal square
and honorable with you. But go to hoodwinking and imposing on him and
instead of a lamb you'll find you've got a rattlesnake at your heels.
Now you have an idea, I guess, what you're going to be up against
here," concluded the caretaker, taking out his pipe and cramming it
with tobacco. "If there's anything else you want to know now's your
chance, for after to-day I am never going to open my lips again about
any of the Crowninshield family. You'll be one of the employees and
your job will be to hold your tongue on them and their affairs, and be
loyal to 'em. Their bread will be feeding you and 'twill be only
decent. After you once have got your place the keeping of it will rest
with you. That's fair, ain't it?"

Walter nodded.

Yet he turned slowly toward home, depressed by a throng of misgivings.
Suppose he was not able to hold the job at Surfside once it was his?
What then?

WHAT WORRIED MRS. KING

By the middle of May Lovell's Harbor had fully awakened from its
winter's sleep. Freshly painted dories were slipped into the water;
newly rigged yawls and knockabouts were anchored in the bay; the float
was equipped with renovated bumpers, and a general air of anticipation
pervaded the community.

Yes, hot weather was really on the way. Already the summer cottages
were being opened, aired, and put in order, and even some of the
houses had gayly figured hangings at the windows and a film of smoke
could be seen issuing from the chimneys.

At Surfside workmen bustled about, hurrying across the lawn with
boards, paint pots, and hammers. Tim Cavenough and his little host of
helpers scurried to uncover the flower beds, and from morning to night
trudged back and forth from the greenhouses bearing shallow boxes of
seedlings which they transplanted to the gardens. Shutters were
removed and stored away, piazza chairs brought out, awnings put up,
and lawns and tennis courts rolled and cut.

As far as one could see a spangled expanse of ocean dazzled the eye
and the tiny salt creeks that meandered across the meadows were like
winding ribbons of blue. Certainly it was no weather to be shut up in
school and boys and girls went hither with reluctant feet, checking
off the days on their fingers and even counting the hours that must
drag by before they would be free to roam at will amid this panorama
of beauty.

To Walter King it seemed as if the closing period of his captivity
would never be at an end. He studied rebelliously, and with only a
half--nay, rather a quarter--of his mind on his lessons. All his
thought was centered around Surfside and the novel experiences that
beckoned him there. So impatient was he to begin his new duties that
he found it impossible to settle down to anything.

"You'll be failing in your last examinations, Walter, if you don't
watch what you're doing," cautioned his mother. "And should you do
that, little profit would it be that you are hired out to Mr.
Crowninshield for the summer. In the fall you'd have to stay behind
your class, and think of the disgrace of that! Why, I'd be ready to
hide my head with shame! Money or no money, you must buck up and put
the Crowninshields and their doings out of your head. To lose a year
now would mean just that much longer before you could graduate and
take a regular job. I almost wish Jerry Thomas had never asked you to
come up there, I do indeed."

"Oh, don't go getting all fussed up, Ma," returned His Highness,
irritated because he recognized the truth of his mother's words. "I'm
going to buckle down until the term is over, honest I am. It is hard,
though, with the weather so fine. It seems as if I must be out. It's
like being on a leash."

"You're thinking of those dogs again!"

The lad flushed sheepishly.

"No, I wasn't."

"But you were--whether you realized it or not. It is all you talk of
nowadays--_dogs_! What it will be after they get here and you're up at
Surfside living with them I don't know. Whatever else you do, though,
you must not fail in your lessons and at the last moment spoil your
whole year's record. School is your first duty now and you have no
moral right to put anything else in its place."

"I know it, Ma," Walter agreed.

"Of course you know it," was the tart response. "Just see that you do
not forget it, that's all."

With this final admonition Mrs. King whisked about and taking up her
cake of Sapolio and pail of steaming water ascended the stairs. Like
the rest of Lovell's Harbor she was busy as a bee in clovertime. She
had rented all her rooms and had so many things to do in preparation
for her expected guests that she had not a second to waste.

After she had gone Walter loitered in the kitchen, whistling absently
and at the same time winding a piece of string aimlessly over his
fingers. His mother's words had stirred a vague, uncomfortable
possibility in his mind. What if he were to fail in those final exams?
It would be terrible. Such a disaster did not seem real. It couldn't
happen--actually happen--to him. It would be too awful. Nevertheless,
try as he would to banish them, visions of Surfside with its myriad
fascinations would dance in his head.

He had never been away from home for more than a night before and to
take up residence elsewhere for an entire season was in itself a
novelty. Then there were the tennis courts, the golf links, the
automobiles, motor boats, and the yacht! Why, it would be like
fairyland! The next instant, however, his spirits drooped. It was
absurd to imagine for a moment that he was to have any part in those
magic amusements. He was not going to Surfside for recreation but for
work. Notwithstanding that fact, though, it was beyond his power to
forget that all these many activities would be going on about him and
there was the chance, the bare chance, that an occasion might arise
when he would be invited to participate in some of them.

Fancy spinning over the sandy roads of the Cape in that wonderful
racing car! Or sailing the blue waters of the harbor in one of those
snowy motor boats! As for the yacht, with its trimmings of glistening
brass and spotless decks, had he not dreamed of going aboard it ever
since the day it had first steamed into the bay two summers ago?
People said there was every imaginable contrivance aboard: ice-making
machines, electric lights, and electric piano, goodness only knew
what! Simply to see such things would be wonderful. And if it ever
should come about (of course it never would and it was absurd to
picture it--ridiculous) but if it ever _did_ that he should go sailing
out of the bay on that mystic craft what a miracle that would be!

With such visions floating through his mind what marvel that it was
well-nigh out of the question for Walter King to focus his attention
on algebra, Latin, history, and physics. X + Y seemed of very little
consequence, and as for the Punic Wars they were so far away as to be
hazy beyond any reality at all.

Possibly, although she was quite unconscious of it, some of the fault
was his mother's for she kept the topic of his departure to the
Crowninshields' ever before him.

"I have your new shirts almost finished, son," she would assert with
satisfaction, "and they're as neat and well made as any New York
tailor could make them, if I do say it; and you've three pairs of
khaki trousers besides your old woolen ones and corduroys. With your
Sunday suit of blue serge and those fresh ties and cap you'll have
nothing to be ashamed of. Then you've those denim overalls, and your
slicker, and Bob's outgrown pea-coat. I can't see but what you have
everything you can possibly need. Do be watchful of your shoes and use
them carefully, won't you, for they cost a mint of money? And remember
whenever you can to work in your old duds and save your others. You
can just as well as not if you only think of it. Your washing you'll
bring home and don't forget that I want you to keep neat and clean.
Rich folks notice those things a lot. So scrub your hands and neck
and clean your nails, even if I'm not there to tell you to. Just
because you are going to traipse round with the dogs is no excuse for
looking like 'em," concluded she.

"I'll remember, Ma," returned His Highness patiently.

"And if you eat with the chauffeurs and a pack of men, don't go
stuffing yourself with food until you're sick. There's a time to stop,
you know. Don't wait until you've got past it and are so crammed that
you can't swallow another mouthful."

"I won't, Ma," was the meek response.

"Brush your teeth faithfully, too. I've spent too much money on them
to have them go to waste now."

"Yes," came wearily from Walter.

"Of course there's no call for me to talk to a person your age about
smoking," continued his mother. "When you've got your full growth and
can earn money enough to pay for such foolishness you've a right to
indulge in it if you see fit; but until then don't start a habit that
will do you no good and may make a pigmy of you for life."

"I promise you right now, Ma, that I----"

"No, don't promise. A promise is a sacred thing and one that it is a
sacrilege to break. Never make a promise lightly. But just remember,
laddie, that I'd far rather you didn't smoke for a few years yet. But
should you feel you must why come and tell me, that's all."

"I will, Ma," answered the boy soberly. Somehow going away from home
suddenly seemed a very solemn business.

"I guess that's the end of my cautions," smiled Mrs. King, "the end,
except to say that I hope you won't like Surfside so well that you'll
forget to come home now and then and tell me how you are making out.
Of course I'll have my boarders and work same's you; still, there'll
be times when we won't be busy and can see each other," her voice
trembled a little. "Nobody will be more anxious to hear of your doings
than I--remember that. I shall miss you, sonny. It's the first time
you've been away from me and I can't but feel it's a sort of
milestone. You'll be getting grown up and leaving home for good now
before I know it, same as Bob has."

Her eyes glistened and for an instant she turned her head aside.

"Oh, I shan't be branching out to make my fortune yet, Mother,"
protested Walter gayly. "I don't know enough. I'm not clever like
Bob--you said so yourself only the other day."

"You're clever as is good for you," was the ambiguous retort. "I'm
glad you're no different."

"Think of the money I'd be handing in if I could only earn as much as
Bob."

"The money? Aye, there's no denying it would be a help. However, with
what you and Bob and I are going to earn this summer we should make
out very well, even if your Uncle Mark Miller has left us in the lurch
and your Uncle Henry King's investments have gone bad on us. I'll be
turning a tidy penny with my boarders, thanks to you. And for a lad
your age ten dollars a week is not to be sneezed at. Why, we'll have
quite a little fortune between us!"

He saw her face brighten.

"Now if Bob could only be near at hand like you I believe I should be
entirely happy," she sighed. "I hate to think of him way out there on
that spit of sand with the sea booming all around him and nothing for
company but the other fellow, who's asleep whenever he's awake, and
that clicking wireless instrument. Imagine the loneliness of it! The
solitude would drive me crazy inside a week--I know it would."

"Bob doesn't mind."

"He's not the lad to say so if he did," replied the mother grimly.
"Nobody'd be any the wiser for what Bob thinks. Often at night I fall
to wondering what he'd do was he to be taken sick."

"Oh, he'd be all right, Mother," answered His Highness cheerfully.
"O'Connel is there, you know."

"And what kind of a nurse would he be, do you think, with his ear to
that switchboard from daylight until dark?"

"Not quite that. Mother."

"Well, almost that, anyhow. It is all well enough for you to say so
jauntily that Bob doesn't mind being off there with the wind howling
round him and nothing to do but listen to it."

"Nothing to do!" repeated Walter. "Why, Ma, he's busy all the time."

"Tinkering with those wires, you mean?" was the indignant question.
"Yes, I grant he has plenty of that, especially in bad weather. But I
mean pleasures----"

"Moving pictures, church sociables, strawberry festivals," interrupted
the lad mischievously.

"Yes, I do," maintained Mrs. King stoutly. "Folks must have something
to brighten up their lives. Bob doesn't have a thing."

"He often has days that are lively enough, according to his stories."

"When there's wrecks, you mean?" She shook her head gravely. "It isn't
those that I'm talking about. It's sitting day after day and listening
to the meaningless taps and buzzings that come whining through that
instrument."

"They're not meaningless to him."

"No-o, I suppose not," sighed the woman. For a moment she paused only
to resume her complaints. "Then there's the responsibility of it. I
never did like to think of that. Should he tap once too much or too
little when sending one of those dot and dash messages, think what it
might mean! And suppose he heard a dot too much and didn't get the
thing the other fellow was trying to tell him straight?"

"But he has been trained so he does not make mistakes."

"All human clay makes mistakes," was the tragic answer, "although I
will say Bob makes fewer than most. And then the thunder storms--I'm
always worried about those."

"Yes, I'll confess there is some danger from lightning," owned Walter
unwillingly. "And of course there is danger from the current at all
times if one is not careful. Even then accidents sometimes happen.
However, Bob explained once that accidental shocks seldom result
fatally unless the person is left too long without help. The man in
charge of the radio outfit would almost never get the full force of
the current, because part of it would be carried off through the wires
and ground. Such accidents are mainly due to the temporary and faulty
contact of the conductors."

"I can't help what they're due to," sniffed Mrs. King. "The point is
that Bob might get knocked out and die."

"Nonsense, Mother. You would not worry if you understood more about
it. Besides, should a man get a shock, if you go promptly to work over
him and keep at it long enough, you can almost always bring him back
to consciousness. They do just about the same things to restore him
that they do for a person that's been drowned. The aim is to make him
breathe. If you can get him to, he will probably live. Of course,
though, you have to break the circuit first."

"The circuit?"

"Stop the current that is going through his body," explained Walter.

"But how can you?"

"Bob told me how. He saw a chap knocked out once and helped fix him
up. You had to be awfully careful about moving him away from the
apparatus, Bob said, or you might get a shock yourself. They took a
dry stick because it was a nonconductor of electricity, you know, and
rolled the man over to one side, so he was out of reach of the wires.
Had you covered your hands with dry cloth you could have moved him,
too; rubber gloves are best but Bob did not happen to have any handy
at the minute. So they poked the fellow out of the way with the stick,
turned him over on his back, loosened his collar and clothing, and
went to work on him. You know how they always roll up a coat or
something and stuff it under drowned persons' shoulders to throw their
head backward? Well, they did that; and afterward they began to move
his arms up and down to make him breathe. The idea is to depress and
expand the chest. We learned it in our 'first aid' class. Of course
there are lots of things you have to do besides, and if you can get a
doctor he will know of others that are better still. But Bob said the
chief point was not to get discouraged and give up. Sometimes people
die just because the folks fussing over them do not keep at it long
enough. They get tired and when they see no results they decide it is
no use and stop trying. You ought to work an hour anyhow, repeating
the exercises at the rate of sixteen times a minute, Bob said. Then,
if the poor chap does not come to, you can at least feel you have done
all you can."

"Ugh! It makes me shiver to think of it!"

"You didn't shiver when Minnie Carlton fell off the float and almost
got drowned," remarked Walter significantly.

"I had too much to think of," was Mrs. King's laconic reply.

"It was the fussing you did over her that saved her life."

"They said so."

"You know it was."

"Mebbe it was," admitted his mother modestly. "But it wasn't any
credit to me. I've always lived near the water and I feel at home with
drowned people."

"These electric accidents are much the same--easier, if anything,
because the lungs are not filled with water."

"I hadn't thought of that."

"This is just a straight case of making a man breathe. You did that
for Minnie."

"I contrived to, yes."

"Well, this stunt is the same. Bob said if you once got that through
your head and kept in mind what you were driving at instead of flying
off the handle you would get on all right."

"Perhaps he's right. He generally is," sighed Mrs. King. "Still it is
a worrisome business having him tinkering with those wires all the
time. I am thankful you are not doing it. I'd rather you tended dogs."

"But you've forgotten what they're worth," put in His Highness.

"So I had. Oh, dear! I don't see but what I've got to worry about both
of you."

"Pooh, Ma! Don't be foolish. Think of the money we'll have by fall,
the three of us. Why, we'll be rich!"

"Not rich, with that last payment on the mortgage looming ahead."

"But it _is_ the last--think of that! We won't ever have another to
make."

A radiant smile flitted over Mrs. King's face but a moment later it
was eclipsed by a cloud.

"There'll be other things to pay; there always are," fretted she.

"Oh, shucks, Ma! Why borrow trouble? It's always hanging round wanting
to be borrowed. Why gratify it?"

"I know. It is a foolish habit, isn't it? Still, it was always my way
to be prepared for the worst. I've done it all my life."

"Then why not whiffle round now and just for a change be prepared for
the best?"

In spite of herself his mother laughed.

"I expect that if I was as young as you and as happy-go-lucky I'd
never worry," she answered not unkindly. "But since I'm made with a
worrying disposition and bound to worry anyhow, at least I've got
something perfectly legitimate to worry about this summer, and you
can't deny it. With one son liable to be electrocuted by wireless and
the other likely to be run into jail for losing a million-dollar dog I
shall have plenty to occupy my mind, not to mention all those
boarders that are coming."

"Now, Ma, you know you are actually looking forward to the boarders,"
Walter declared. "Already you are simply itching to see them and find
out what they are like."

"And if I am, what then?" admitted his mother flushing that she should
have been read so accurately. "Seeing them isn't all there is to it by
a good sight. There is feeding them, and to keep them filled up in
this bracing climate is no small matter."

"Did you ever know any one to go hungry in this house?"

"Well, no; I can't say I ever did."

"Do you imagine boarders will eat more than Bob or I?"

"Mercy on us! I hope not."

"Well, you always gave us enough to eat. I guess if you contrived to
do that you needn't worry about your boarders," chuckled His Highness.

CHAPTER IV

WALTER MAKES HIS BOW TO HIS EMPLOYER

The last day of June dawned dismal and foggy. A grim gray veil
enshrouded Lovell's Harbor, rendering it cold and dreary. Had one been
visiting it for the first time he would probably have turned his back
on its forlornity and never have come again. The sea was wrapped in a
mist so dense that its vast reach of waves was as complete a secret as
if they had been actually curtained off from the land. On every leaf
trembled beads of moisture and from the eaves of the sodden houses the
water dripped with a melancholy trickle.

It was wretched weather for the Crowninshields to be coming to
Surfside and yet that they were already on the way the jangling
telephone attested.

"I wouldn't have had 'em put in an appearance a day like this for the
world!" fretted Jerry Taylor, who for some unaccountable reason seemed
to hold himself responsible for the general dampness and discomfort.
"Fog ain't nothin' to us folks who are used to it. We've lived by the
ocean long enough to love it no matter how it behaves. But for it to
go actin' up this way for strangers is a pity. It gives 'em a bad
impression same's a ill-behaved child does."

"But you can't help it," ventured Walter, who had just come into
sight.

"N-o. Still, somehow, I'm always that anxious for the place to look
it's prettiest that I feel to blame when it doesn't."

The boy nodded sympathetically. Deep down within him lay an
inarticulate affection for the hamlet in which he had been born and
the great throbbing sea that lapped its shores. He therefore
understood Jerry's attitude and shared in it far more than he would,
perhaps, have been willing to admit. Nevertheless he merely knocked
the drops from his rubber hat, muttered that it was a rotten day, and
loitered awkwardly about, wondering just what to do.

At last school was at an end. He had squeaked through the examinations
with safety if not with glory, and having wheeled his small trunk up
to Surfside on a wheelbarrow and deposited it in his room he
speculated as to what to do next. There was plenty he might have done.
There was no question about that. He might at the very moment have
been unpacking his possessions, hanging his clothes in the closet, and
stowing away his undergarments in the chest of drawers provided for
the purpose. Moreover, there were books to tuck into place on his
bookshelves and other minor duties relative to the settling of his new
quarters.

Oh, there were a score of things he might have done. His Highness,
however, was in much too agitated a frame of mind to turn his
attention to such humdrum tasks. Furthermore, since he had pledged
himself to bear a hand wherever it was needed, he felt he should be on
the spot and within call. And if beneath this worthy motive lurked a
certain desire to see whatever there was to be seen, who can say his
curiosity was not pardonable? One does not set forth every day to make
his fortune. The adventure was very alluring to him who had never
tried it.

Possibly Jerry Taylor had enough of the boy in him to understand this.
However that might be, he did not hurry the lad indoors to unpack even
though he sensed full well that precious time was being wasted;
instead, as he started across the lawn he called back over his
shoulder:

"If you've nothing better to do, sonny, than to stand shivering in the
barn, come along up to the house with me and help bring up some wood;
I'm going to start fires burning in the rooms to cheer the folks up
and dry 'em off when they get here. To my mind there ain't nothin'
like an open fire to right you if you're out of sorts. And likely they
will be out of sorts. Mr. Crowninshield will, that's sure. Now I
myself don't mind a gray day off and on. It's sorter restful and
calming. But these city people can't see it that way. My eye, no! They
begin to groan so you can hear 'em a mile away the minute the sun is
clouded over; and by the second day of a good northeaster they are
done for. You'd think to listen to 'em that the end of the world had
come. No motoring! No golf! No tennis! Why, they might as well be
dead. They begin to wonder why they ever came here anyway and talk of
nothing but how nice it is in New York. Why, you would split your
sides laughing to hear Mr. Crowninshield moan for Wall Street and
Fifth Avenue. Three days of fog is his limit. After that ropes
couldn't tie him here. He tumbles his traps into a suitcase and off he
goes to the city."

"Great Scott!" Walter ejaculated.

"Oh, 'tain't a bad thing to have him go, take it by and large. He
ain't much addition here when he's fidgeting round, poking into
everything and suggesting it better be done some other way. He's much
better off somewhere else--he's happier and so are we. By and by he
comes back again cheerful as if nothing had happened. Mebbe it's as
well you should be told what's in store for you in foggy weather,"
concluded Jerry, with a touch of humor, "for you'll come in for your
share together with the rest of us. Everybody gets it. Most likely
you'll hear that an egg-beater is a much better thing to smooth down a
dog's hair with than a brush; that all the world knows that and only
an idiot uses anything else. Don't smile or venture a yip in reply.
Just say you'll be glad to use the egg-beater if he prefers it. Remark
that, in fact, you quite hanker to try the egg-beater. To agree with
him always takes the wind out of his sails quicker'n anything else.
He'll calm down soon as he sees you aren't ruffled and go off and hunt
up somebody else to reform. And when the fog blows out to sea his
temper will go with it and he will forget he ever suggested an
egg-beater. Oh, we understand the boss. He's all right! If you only
know how to take him you'll never have a mite of trouble with him."

By this time they had reached the house and having removed rubbers and
dripping coats they entered the basement door and proceeded to the
cellar. It was not the sort of cellar with which His Highness was
familiar although his mother's cellar was clean, as cellars go. This
one was immaculate. Indeed it seemed, on glancing about, that one
might have done far worse than live in the Crowninshields' cellar.
Every inch of the interior was light, dry, and spotless with
whitewash, paint, and tiling. Even the coal that filled the bins had
taken on a borrowed glory and shone as if polished.

"This is my kingdom!" announced Jerry proudly. "You could eat off the
floor were you so minded."

"I should say you could!"

"When once you've set out it's no more work to keep things shipshape
than to let 'em go helter-skelter. Now here's a basket. Load into it
as many of those birch logs as you can carry and bring 'em upstairs.
I've kindlings there already."

While Walter was obeying these instructions Jerry himself was piling
up on his lank arm a pyramid of wood, and together the two ascended
the stairway and tiptoed through the kitchen. As they went the boy
caught a glimpse of gleaming porcelain walls; ebon-hued stoves
resplendent with nickel trimmings; a blue and white tiled floor; and
smart little window hangings that matched it.

"They don't cook here!" he gasped.

"Everything in the house is electric," explained Jerry, as if he were
conducting a sight-seeing party through the Louvre. "All the baking,
washing, ironing, bread-making, and cleaning is done by electricity.
There's even an electric sewing-machine to sew with, and an electric
breeze to keep you cool while you're doing it. If I hadn't seen the
thing with my own eyes I'd never have believed it."

He paused to watch the effect of his words.

"'Tain't much like the way you and me are used to," he grinned.

"No."

"I suppose in time you get so nothing knocks the breath out of you.
I'm just coming to looking round here without feeling all of a
flutter. The place did used to turn me endwise at first, it was so
white and awesome. I actually hated to set foot within its walls.
Seems 's if my fingers was always all thumbs every time I come inside
the room. Still, I had to come in though; there were things I had to
do here. So I schooled myself to forget the whiteness, and the
blueness, and all the silvery glisten and call it just a kitchen.
Besides, I found that grand as it is, it ain't a patch on some of the
other things in the house. My eye! It's like the Arabian Nights!"

The Cape Codder stopped quite speechless from retailing these marvels.

"Yes," he went on presently, "they've got almost everything the
electric market has to offer. Last year, though, Mr. Dick got a
hankerin' for a wireless set. It appears that you can buy an outfit
that will make you hear concerts, sermons, speeches, and about
everything that's going on; at least that's what Mr. Crowninshield
undertook to tell me, though whether he was fooling or not I couldn't
quite make out. Still, it may be true. After what I've seen in this
house I'm ready to believe about anything. Was he to say you could put
your eye to a hole in the wall and see the Chinese eating rice in
Hongkong it wouldn't astonish me."

Walter laughed.

"You _can_ hear music and such things. My brother, who is a
wireless operator, told me so. They broadcast all sorts of
entertainments--songs, band-playing, sermons, and stories so that
those who have amateur apparatus can listen in."

"Broadcast? Listen in?" repeated Jerry vaguely.

"Broadcasting means sending out stuff of a specified wave length from
a central station so that amateurs with a range of from two hundred to
three hundred meters can pick it up."

Jerry halted midway in the passage.

"Do you mean to say," inquired he, "that a person can sling a song off
the top of a wire into the air and tell it to stop when it's gone two
hundred meters?"

"Something like that," chuckled Walter, amused.

"I don't believe it!" declared Jerry bluntly.

"But it can be done; really it can."

"No doubt you think you are speaking the truth, youngster," returned
the skeptic mildly. "Somebody's stuffed you, though. Such a thing
couldn't be, any way in the world."

As if that were the end of the matter Jerry opened a door confronting
him and stepped into the great hall, the splendor of which instantly
blotted every other thought from Walter King's mind.

Not only was the interior spacious and imposing but it was
bewilderingly beautiful and contained marvel after marvel that the lad
longed to examine. The large tiger-skin rugs that covered the floor
piqued his interest, so did the chiming clock, and a fountain that
welled up and splashed into a marble pool filled with goldfish. Why,
he could have entertained himself for an hour with this latter wonder
alone!

There was, however, no leisure for loitering for on hearing the
cadence of the chimes Jerry ejaculated in consternation:

"Eleven o'clock already! Land alive! We'll have to get the fires
blazing lively. Why, the folks may be here any minute now. Here, hand
me one of those long sticks you've got, sonny; or rather--wait! You
know how to lay a fire, don't you?"

"I reckon I've done such a thing once or twice in my lifetime," was
the dry response.

"Then go ahead. You build this fire while I go upstairs and start the
others," said Jerry. "After you've got this one going you can make one
in the library, that red room through those curtains."

"All right."

"Step lively! Don't take all day about it."

With awkward gesture Jerry swooped up some of the logs with his long
arm and disappeared into the hall above.

As for Walter, he had built too many fires in his mother's kitchen
stove and started too many blazes of driftwood on the beach to be at a
loss as to how to proceed. Almost in a twinkling scarlet flames were
roaring up the wide-throated chimneys and he had placed fenders before
them to keep in captivity any straying sparks. While he looked about
for a spot in which to deposit the remaining birch sticks there was a
sound of horns, a crunching of gravel, and Jerry's scurrying feet came
pattering down the stairs.

"It's the folks!" he announced excitedly. "We warn't a minute too
soon. Tuck those logs into the brass box; pick up your cap, laddie,
and light out of here quick."

The order, alas, came too late. His Highness had only time enough to
hurry the birch wood into the box and bang down the cover before
flying footsteps filled the house, maids appeared from every door, and
there was a blast of wind, a babel of voices, and the discomfited boy
found himself face to face with his employers.

His first impression of Mr. Crowninshield, muffled to the chin in a
heavy motor coat, was of a large, red-cheeked man who, although he
moved with little apparent stir, nevertheless in an incredibly short
interval had shaken hands with most of the servants, directed where
each piece of luggage was to be put, commented on a new lock on the
front door, and noticed that the clock was two minutes slow. His
moving eye had also been caught by the roses on the table and he
turned to ask from which garden they came.

"All this he did, Ma," explained Walter to his mother afterward,
"before you could say Jack Robinson. And in between he was scolding
all the time about the weather and saying how idiotic it was to leave
a warm, comfortable city like New York and come to a damp hole like
the Cape."

"Is this the best day you could manage to get together, Jerry?"
growled he. "Pretty beastly, I call it."

"It certainly is wet, sir."

"Wet! I should say it was! It's infernally wet! How long is it going
to keep up like this?"

"I can't say, sir."

"Well, you have the sun out to-morrow or I shall go straight back
where I came from. Little old New York is good enough for me when the
place looks like this."

At that instant he espied His Highness lurking near a distant window.

"Who are you, young man?" he called.

"Walter King, sir."

"Oh, the young chap who is going to look after the dogs?"

"Yes, sir."

"Humph! Like dogs?"

"I--yes, sir," answered the lad at a warning glance from Jerry.

Ruthlessly the hawklike eyes devoured him.

"So you think you can take care of a lot of prize pups, do you?"

"I am going to try," was the modest reply.

"You can't stop with trying, my son. You've got to do it," announced
the man sharply.

"I shall do my best."

"That is all I shall ask."

A sudden smile melted the stern countenance into geniality and the
master held out a hand.

"So King is your name."

"Yes, sir."

"It is a royal one and gives you something to live up to."

As the boy did not know what to answer he was silent.

"And you like dogs?" said the inquisitor more kindly.

"I like all animals," returned Walter evasively, "and I am sure I
shall like your dogs because you always like anything you take care
of."

"So you do! I remember when I was about your age I tamed an old brown
weasel. He was a wretch of a creature with scarcely a virtue--cruel,
deceitful, cold-blooded; and yet I grew to love that brute as much as
if he had had the gentleness of a dove. You know how it is."

Walter nodded. For the moment the two came together on a plane of real
contact and sympathy, and the smile the elder gave him bound the lad
to his new employer as no spoken words could possibly have done.

But a second later Mr. Crowninshield's mood had changed and he was
storming at Mary, the waitress, and demanding whether she meant to
freeze them all by leaving the outside door open. Walter could see the
girl flush red and as he leaped forward to close the door she flashed
him a grateful, tremulous smile. Then Mr. Crowninshield turned toward
his wife.

"Mollie," he replied, "this is Walter King who is going to look after
your dogs. Come and speak to him."

The mistress of the house came. She was wearing a long blue traveling
coat and a jaunty little hat against which the gold of her hair was
resplendent as sunshine. Tucked under her arm was a wee dog with soft
brown fur and sharp little eyes. Mrs. Crowninshield was very pretty,
especially when she spoke. As Walter looked into her face he found it
so amazingly youthful that it was difficult for him to believe she was
actually the mother of a grown son and daughter.

"So it is you who are to be master of the kennels?" smiled she,
showing her even white teeth.

"Yes, Mrs. Crowninshield," faltered His Highness, a trifle overcome by
this new title.

From head to foot her glance swept over him.

"Well," said she at length, "if you keep the puppies as tidy as you
keep yourself I fancy we shall get on nicely together."

A flood of color mounted to the lad's forehead. He had not anticipated
such close inspection and instinctively he began to fumble with the
corner of his sweater and look nervously down at his hands. They must
be very dirty from making the fires. And he had been actually greeting
Mr. and Mrs. Crowninshield with paws like those! The horror of it
chilled his blood.

Apparently the woman, with swift intuition, read his thought for she
dimpled at him in friendly fashion.

"Do not worry about your hands, my boy," said she. "You have been
doing useful things to soil them, things to bid us welcome and make us
more comfortable. I can see you started out clean. I have a boy of my
own, you know. Richard," she went on, turning to a tall youth who was
bending over the luggage, "this is Walter King who is coming to look
after the kennels. He must be about your age."

The boys stared at each other awkwardly.

"I am fifteen," announced Walter for the lack of something more
brilliant to say.

"I beat you by a year," was the shy retort of the other boy. "I am
sixteen."

Then Nancy interrupted them with her breezy comment.

"Fifteen, are you?" she put in. "My, I should not have thought it! You
must be pretty crazy about dogs to give up all your summer vacation to
them."

"My mother needs the money," was the simple answer.

"Oh!"

He saw her blush as if regretting her thoughtless remark.

"It is nice of you to help your mother," she observed quickly. "I am
sure you will not find the place so bad. We shall try to make you
happy."

With that she was gone but she left behind her a memory of sweetness
and appealing kindliness.

"You might run out to the garage now, sonny," declared Jerry with a
desire to help the lad make his escape. "They will be landing the pups
there soon, and you may as well be on hand."

Only too glad to beat a retreat His Highness picked up his cap and
slipping from the room raced across the lawn in the direction of his
own quarters.

CHAPTER V

THE CONQUEST OF ACHILLES

Jerry's prediction proved to be quite true for as His Highness neared
the garage a hum of activity pervaded it. Four mud-caked cars stood in
the driveway and chauffeurs in their shirt sleeves hurried in and out
the building, shouting to one another and carrying in their hands
grimy rags and cans of oil. A short half hour had transformed the
quiet spot to a beehive of noise and bustle. The rush seemed
contagious for wherever one looked moving figures could be seen. Some
crossed the lawn bearing belated satchels or traveling wraps which in
the confusion had found their way into the wrong place; some strode
toward the boathouse, some toward the garden, some to the stables. Men
appeared to have risen through the earth so quickly had their numbers
multiplied.

No longer was there the leisurely loitering and smoking that had
marked the week before. A spirit of activity was infused into the air
until even those who had no cause to hurry scrambled with the rest.

As Walter approached the garage he was waylaid by a young chauffeur
with rosy cheeks and a crisp, pleasant voice:

"Say, youngster, don't you want to lend a hand with these cushions?"
interrogated he, beaming ingratiatingly. "They have got to be beaten
and brushed before they can go back in the car. Chuck them over on the
floor for me, won't you?"

"Sure!" was the ready answer. "I'll beat them for you if you like."

"You're a good-natured little cuss," grinned the man. "I'm not asking
you to do that, though."

"But I'd be glad to."

"Suit yourself. But in my opinion you are a fool to take on jobs you
are not hired to do and get no money for."

"Oh, I don't care about the money."

"You don't, eh?" chimed in the derisive note of another chauffeur who
had at the instant come out of the doorway. "Say, who are you, anyway?
One of the Vanderbilts?"

"Quit heckling the young one, Peters," put in the chauffeur of the red
cheeks. "He's a good sort, all right."

"Ha, ha, Wheeler! You think that because you've jollied him into doing
your work for you, you old shirk."

"I didn't jolly him into anything. He offered."

"A likely story."

"But he did."

"Then you should have told him better," sniffed the other. "You know
well enough it isn't etiquette round here to do a stroke of work for
anybody else or accept a stroke. _Every man for himself_ is the
motto."

"But that's a rotten way!" Walter ejaculated impulsively. "I'd hate to
live like that--never being willing to help anybody or ask them to
help me."

The man called Peters gave him a contemptuous stare.

"You'll find there's no whining or asking help of other people here,"
announced he, with a sneer. "Those that are darn fools enough to get
into holes get out of them as best they can. It's their hunt."

Spitting emphatically on the ground he proceeded to go into the garage
with the tire he was carrying.

Walter took up a stick he saw lying near by.

"What are you going to do?" demanded the red-cheeked man, regarding
him with unconcealed surprise.

"Beat the cushions."

"But--but--heavens, sonny! Didn't you hear what Peters said?"

"Of course I heard. I don't have to sign up to a creed like that,
though, if I don't want to, do I?"

"We all do. We agree neither to borrow, lend, nor ask favors."

"I'm afraid I shan't make one of the gang then," observed Walter, with
a smile so good-humored that the words could not offend.

"Then the more fool you, that is all I can say," laughed Wheeler. "By
the end of a month you won't have so much as a collar button to your
name. Everything you own will be gone, especially your tools. We're a
lot of pirates. I give you fair warning."

"I'm not afraid you'll want much that I've got," grinned Walter.

The upraised stick descended in a series of rhythmic blows, sending
into the air a cloud of dust.

"Where's the brush?" panted the boy, when he had beaten until his arm
ached.

"Say, kid, I'm not going to have you breaking your back over my job,"
asserted Wheeler in a friendly tone.

"I'm not breaking my back."

"But what on earth are you doing it _for_?" questioned the man, his
eyes narrowing with curiosity.

"I don't know myself," returned the lad shyly. "It was just the way I
was brought up, I guess."

For an interval only the sweeping of the brush broke the stillness.

"I was brought up to be decent, too," observed Wheeler slowly, "but
somehow since I've been knocking round I've got to be an awful brute.
There isn't any very high standard among the crowd I mix in. Still,
I'm afraid that isn't much of an excuse for shifting back into a
savage." He paused thoughtfully, then added, "I'm much obliged to you,
sonny, for your help, and just to show you I don't forget it, sometime
when you are hard put hunt me up and ask me to give you a lift. I'm a
human being though you may not think so."

With a little glow at his heart Walter moved away toward the kennels.

He had made a friend, and in this new environment where he was
conscious of being very much of an outsider the consciousness brought
him a sense of comradeship and happiness.

It was fortunate, however, that his altruism had detained him no
longer for before he reached the spot where the dogs were to be
quartered he heard a chorus of sharp yelps and saw what appeared to be
a dozen dogs coming across the lawn accompanied by Mrs. Crowninshield
and two of the stablemen. Some of the pack were being led, while
others, wild with joy at finding themselves unconfined, leaped and
capered wildly about their mistress. A great police dog, straining at
the leash, gave Walter a thrill of mingled admiration and timidity. He
was a huge creature with mottled coat and mighty jaws, and within his
open mouth, from which lolled his red tongue, were cruel white teeth
that could do unthinkable things. His wide brown eyes, his pointing
tail, his upright ears moving with every sound, his alert poise all
bespoke keenness and intelligence. A dog one would far rather have for
an ally than an enemy, thought the boy.

Beside pranced two Airedales and a white Sealyham and to their babel
of barking was added the shrill, sympathetic note of five or six
Pekingese, one of which Mrs. Crowninshield carried under her arm.

"Hush, Achilles!" she cried. "Hush, all of you! Stop your racket this
instant! They are excited at being together again," explained she to
Walter who had approached. "The Belgian and Airedales have been
boarded out during the winter and have not seen the others for months.
So, you see, this is a sort of reunion for them and they have to bark
to show their delight. Moreover, they have had a long trip and are
tired and hungry. I am going to feed them now and this meal will last
most of them until to-morrow at the same hour."

"Are they fed only once a day?" gasped Walter.

"That is all. You see you will not have many meals to prepare,"
laughed Mrs. Crowninshield. "Only the Peeks have breakfast, but only
part of a square of puppy biscuit or some bread; so it is very simple.
Dinner, however, is much more complicated and later I shall give you
your directions as to just what every dog must have; to-night we are
to treat the lot to some raw meat, toast, and spinach."

"You'll let me help you," pleaded Walter.

"Certainly. That is why I came out. I want you to feed the dogs and
learn their names. In order to get on with them you must get
acquainted with them and understand the peculiarities of each one.
They are just persons, you know, and have their little whims and
queernesses. But kindness will win them to you very quickly. It is far
better than a whip. So is feeding. A dog usually obeys the person who
feeds him. He is afraid not to."

As she spoke she entered the wired enclosure and putting the smaller
dogs in half of it and shutting the wicket gate upon them she told the
men to slip the leashes from the collars of the others. In a second
the Belgian, Airedales, and the fluffy Sealyham were bounding about
her. Then she beckoned to Walter.

"This is Achilles," went on she, with her hand on the head of the
great monster. "He is as gentle and kind as a kitten, although he does
look as if he could swallow us alive. Don't touch him but stand still
and let him sniff you all over. It is his way of getting acquainted."

Obediently the boy remained motionless while the panting jaws and
moist black nose of the dog came nearer. He could feel the creature's
hot breath on his hands, face, and hair. Then over his clothing moved
the quivering nostrils. At length the brown eyes met his and he
whispered softly:

"Achilles!"

The dog wagged his tail.

"You have nothing to fear from him now," announced Mrs. Crowninshield.
"The Airedales are Jack Horner and Boy Blue. And the Sealyham, Miss
Nancy's dog, is called Rags."

Sensing that he was being talked about, the dog blinked with friendly
eyes at Walter through its mop of coarse white hair.

"In the other pen," continued Mrs. Crowninshield, "are the Pekingese
pups and I shall expect you to take the best of care of them. They are
sensitive little creatures and very valuable. I myself, however, care
very little for the money value of a dog. It is the lovable traits it
has that interest me. I should adore wee Lola, here, if she were not
worth a cent. But Mr. Crowninshield likes to own blue ribbon dogs and
enter them at the shows and therefore I will caution you that Lola,
Mimi, and Fifi," as she spoke she pointed out the dogs in question,
"cost quite a fortune and their loss or illness would be a great
calamity. So you must follow the directions concerning them most
carefully. And should any question arise about them come at once to
me."

As she spoke she occasionally glanced at the boy beside her with a
quick, bright smile.

"I shall have the menu for each dog sent you every day--at least for
the present--together with directions as to how to prepare the meal as
it should be prepared. The meat for the small dogs must be put through
a meat chopper and no gristle allowed to get into it; the larger dogs
can have bigger pieces, and Achilles a bone. You will find in the room
inside an ice chest in which to keep such foods as spoil. There are
also glassed-in shelves where tins of various kinds of dog bread and
puppy biscuit will be stored that they may be out of the dampness. You
are not to trouble the servants at the big house for anything. They do
not like to be interfered with. All your supplies will be here, and
you can warm whatever it is necessary to heat on your small electric
stove. Be sure to scald out the dishes after they have been used; and
also never forget to keep the bowls filled with plenty of fresh
water."

"I will, ma'am."

"I am sure you will," returned Mrs. Crowninshield kindly. "And do not
worry if it takes a little time to win all the dogs over to your
authority. Dogs are like children when they change masters. They will
try to play it on you at first. Just be firm with them and soon you
will have them tagging at your heels, docile as lambs."

The task of preparing the food was soon completed and the mistress
looked on and encouraged while Walter doled it out to the famished
animals.

How daintily the wee dogs coquetted with what was given them! And how
greedily the larger ones gobbled down their allowance and lapped the
plate for more! Achilles, crouched on the lawn with his bone, crunched
it with terrifying zeal, cracking the big joint between his jaws as if
it were made of paper. His dinner devoured he ambled over toward
Walter, once more sniffed his shoes and clothing, at last nestled his
moist nose against the boy's hand.

"I think you have won Achilles to your colors already," said Mrs.
Crowninshield.

"He does seem friendly," returned His Highness, more pleased by the
dog's good will than he would have been willing to own.

"Achilles can be very friendly when he chooses," retorted his owner.
"He can also be quite the reverse. You should see him sometime when he
is on the scent of a foe. Last summer when a man broke into the
boathouse it transformed Achilles into a lion. I was certain he would
kill the fellow; as it was he mauled him badly before we could coax
him off. The thief almost died of fright and I do not wonder. He did
not need any further punishment."

She unfastened the gate to go back to the house.

Immediately there was a rush.

"No, you can't come, not one of you," declared she, addressing the
yelping pack through the netting. "I have far too much to do to be
bothered with any of you. Be good and take a nap. You're tired enough
to rest."

Still the animals barked, rebellious at their captivity.

"When I am out of sight you can let Achilles out," called she, as she
moved away. "He can be trusted to roam the place and always does when
we're here. The Airedales and the Sealyham can also run about alone as
soon as they get used to obeying you. But the little dogs must never
be let off the leash unless they are watched every instant, for
something might happen to them."

"I'll be careful."

"That's right; do."

The woman gave him a pleasant nod of farewell and walked with
springing step back in the direction of the house. As she went Walter
saw her halt and speak to old Tim, who was at work in the rose garden,
and beheld the gardener leap proudly forward to cut for her a blossom
she had evidently admired.

It was even as Jerry had said. She was the idol of Surfside.

After she had disappeared he opened the wicket and stepped out,
letting Achilles follow him.

Instantly the great creature put his nose to the ground and with a
joyous bark he was gone in search of his mistress.

It was now or never with the new master of the hounds.

The lad whistled but the dog did not turn. Again he gave a quick call.
This time the rushing beast paused, looked round, and then slackening
his pace, continued to jog along on his way.

Helplessly the boy saw him go farther and farther out of reach.

He must compel obedience somehow.

"Achilles!" shouted he sternly. "Achilles! Back, sir!"

Although he uttered the words he had not the slightest faith they
would have any effect and was amazed to see the dog waver in his
tracks.

"Achilles, come here!" repeated he sharply.

With reluctance the dog turned and looked at him.

"Here, sir!" called Walter, with coaxing cadence.

The dog continued to regard him intently but he did not move. Then
suddenly there was a rush and with panting jaws widespread the Belgian
came bounding toward him. It was not until he was close at hand that
he abated his speed. Then he came to the side of his new master and
gently laid his cold nose on his sleeve.

Walter patted the great head affectionately.

The battle was won. He had conquered Achilles.

CHAPTER VI

HIS HIGHNESS IN A NEW ROLE

Before a week had passed the strangeness of living at Surfside had to
a certain extent abated and Walter found himself not only content in
his new position but enjoying it. He rose early, feeding the dogs,
exercising them, and making fresh their quarters before he breakfasted
himself. Afterward, despite the score of odd duties with which the
morning was filled, he contrived to do many little kindnesses for
Jerry, Tim, Wheeler, and the other men. He was always willing to do a
favor and amid an atmosphere where generosity was rare the virtue of
aiding others rendered him immensely popular.

In the meantime he had made such headway in the affections of Achilles
that the big Belgian not only tagged at his heels everywhere he went,
but at night insisted upon extending his giant frame before the boy's
doorsill from which vantage ground neither threats nor persuasions
could stir him. In consequence the lonely hours the lad might have
experienced were put to rout by the companionship of this silent
comrade.

The Airedales, on the other hand, were less successfully won over to a
new allegiance. Although Richard, who owned them, took not the
smallest care of them and serenely passed them over to some one else
to be ministered unto, nevertheless they apparently sensed the
arrangement was one of convenience and returned scant gratitude for
what was done for them. They were polite, tolerant, but never
whole-heartedly cordial. Dick was their master and they would have no
other.

Fortunately Miss Nancy's Sealyham, Rags, was more responsive;
nevertheless, although she frolicked about Walter's feet and accepted
food from his hand it was more because she loved to play and was
hungry than because her affection for the boy went very deep.

As for the troupe of Pekingese, with aristocratic noses tilted high in
air, they submitted to being washed, brushed, and fed by Walter much
as they would have accepted the services of any other maid or valet.
They seemed to be conscious of their pedigree and claim attention as
their right. An occasional wag of the tail or the rare passage of a
rough little tongue across one's hand was all the gratitude His
Highness ever received from them.

With the Crowninshield family, however, the boy made better progress
and as he and Dick became acquainted many a pleasant hour did they
spend together. Not infrequently, when the eager yelps of the dogs
heralded the fact that they were off for their afternoon run, the New
York lad would join the party and while the animals raced this way and
that the two boys would discuss boats, fishing, and kindred
interests.

[Illustration: The two boys would discuss boats, fishing, and kindred
interests. _Page_ 76.]

"Do you happen to know anything about wireless?" inquired Richard one
day when, with Achilles prancing far ahead and Boy Blue, Jack Horner,
and Rags dashing to keep up with him, the group strode along the
beach.

"I ought to," was Walter's smiling response. "I've a brother who is an
operator at the Seaver Bay station."

"No! Really?" The exclamations voiced both surprise and admiration.
"How old is he?"

"Twenty-two or three."

"Gee! And he can really send and receive messages?"

"He sure can."

"How did he learn?"

"Oh, he first got interested in wireless through the papers and picked
up quite a lot of information that way. Later he and his chum Billy
Hicks bought a manual and with the help of the physics teacher at the
High School they rigged up a homemade receiving apparatus on Billy's
grandfather's barn. For a while it wouldn't work for a cent, although
they tinkered with it night and day. Then one evening they did
something to it and caught their first message. You should have seen
Bob! He was crazy and came rushing straight home to make Ma drop
everything she was doing and go down to Hicks's. Now Mother was
elbow-deep in bread and declared she couldn't spoil her biscuit for
any wireless on earth. Besides, she had never had any faith in the
thing. You see, Bob had teased her for wireless money and she had told
him time and time again it was dollars thrown into a hole. My father
used to joke her about not having a scientific mind and I guess she
hasn't one. At any rate, whenever Bob would read her the wonderful
things being done with wireless, all she would say was that it wasn't
likely folks could send speeches and music loose through the air.
Those who pretended to hear them were either fibbing or were genuinely
mistaken. So when Bob did get a broadcast you can imagine how wild he
was to convince her it wasn't all bluff."

"And did he?" asked Dick with interest.

"Well, after a fashion," replied Walter, smiling at some amusing
memory.

"Like enough I shouldn't have known much about it, either, if Bob had
not told me," continued Walter. "Bob, however, talked nothing else
morning, noon, and night. Often I would drop asleep while he was
chattering of induction coils, wave lengths, and antenna. It makes me
yawn now to think of it. My goodness, weren't Ma and I sick to death
of hearing nothing but radio! Bob would rush into the house at
mealtime, swallow his food whole, and tear off to Hicks's with a piece
of pie in his hand, leaving all the chores to me. I got pretty sore, I
can tell you." He gave a short laugh.

"Between Mother begrudging the poor chap every cent he spent for
batteries and wire, and me pitching into him for forgetting to chop
the kindlings, I'm afraid his early wireless career wasn't a very
pleasant one."

Once more the lad laughed, this time with comic ruefulness.

"Even when the apparatus actually did begin to work and Bob and Billy
were able to get a concert or lecture now and then, Ma insisted they
were bluffing her. She listened in but wasn't convinced, declaring
they had fastened a victrola to the receivers and that such sounds
never could come through the air. Finally they did succeed in getting
her to half believe they were telling her the truth and were not just
working her for money. But when they tried to explain the outfit to
her in detail, she put her hands over her ears, protesting that they
were wasting their breath to tell her of damped and undamped waves,
detectors, and generators. With that they gave up further attempts to
educate her."

Both boys chuckled.

"But she must be proud of your brother now," asserted Dick.

"Oh, she is--tremendously, although what she chiefly thinks about is
the danger Bob is in of getting struck by lightning or electrocuted."

Achilles, who had been pursuing some sandpipers along the rim of the
surf and sent them circling into the air, now raced back to his
friends with a sharp bark of salutation and Dick bent to pat the
shaggy head.

"So really," reflected he, "your brother taught himself wireless."

"Not wholly. He simply laid a foundation," the other boy explained.
"He could never have taken a job on what he had picked up because,
you see, he knew nothing of sending messages, was ignorant of all the
rules an operator has to have at his tongue's end, and had no very
thorough knowledge of electricity. It was not like a complete
training, by any means. The war gave him that. When it broke out he
enlisted in the navy, and because he was partially equipped in radio
they sent him off posthaste to a wireless school. At the time he was
crazy because his dream was to get across and be in the fighting. To
sit at home studying was the last thing he wanted to do. Later,
though, when he began to see what a big part wireless was playing in
the scrimmage, he commenced to be more resigned to his lot. Besides he
got his chance before long, for he worked into being a crackerjack at
speed and passed his exams so well that he had no trouble in winning
his first-class operator's certificate.

"There are grades of radio men, you know, just as there are grades of
everything else. There are the sharks, or first-class chaps, who are
able to pass every sort of test on the adjustment of apparatus and how
to use it; who can both send and receive messages at the rate of at
least twenty words a minute, and who can often go much faster; and who
have all the rules governing the exchange of radio messages stowed
away in their heads. They are the A1 men and every first-class ship is
obliged by law to have aboard it two of them. Then there are the
second-class certificate fellows who practically have as much radio
but cannot hit such a gait, and can only manage to send between
twelve and nineteen words a minute. They can go on first-class ships
provided more skilled operators are aboard. Sometimes, even, they
substitute for them under supervision. Their chief jobs, however, are
on ships that use wireless only for their personal benefit; that is,
to talk with their own crews. Often a fishing fleet, for instance,
will carry a man of this class to communicate with its other vessels.
They can talk, too, with shore stations when it is necessary. But the
law does not allow them to take positions where there is a great rush
of business and general responsibility. They must have the topnotchers
for such work."

"I had no idea there were so many rules about radio," mused Dick.

"There are--strict ones, too," replied his companion. "Moreover, the
government keeps tabs on all radio people to see they obey the rules.
Every wireless man is examined, classified, and given a license just
as an automobile driver is. He has to keep it handy, too, and be ready
to trot it out on request. You can't get by with bluffing. If an
operator is found to be unfamiliar with the rules, or is discovered
breaking any of them, his certificate can be withdrawn. No chap wants
to risk that, especially if he is trying to earn his living by
wireless. And if a ship, and not its radio operator, is found to be
breaking the rules, the coastal stations may be notified not to have
anything to do with her. In other words she is boycotted and the land
operators told neither to receive her messages nor answer them."

"That would be some boycott!"

"The shipboard radio stations, you see, come under the authority of
the commanding officer of the ship. It has to be so, because in case
of accident he would be the person responsible for sending out
distress calls and answering them. The radio man couldn't just grab
the power. There has to be one boss of every job."

"I can see that," nodded Dick. "But why such a network of other
rules?"

"There have to be. It all has to be charted in black and white or
there would be terrible mix-ups."

"And do foreign ships have to fall into line and do as our ships do
when they come here?"

"They are expected to, Bob said," answered Walter. "In case they do
not, however, they cannot be meddled with by underlings. Instead they
are immediately reported to the government and the two countries
involved settle their dispute by arbitration. It is too delicate a
matter for others to butt in on, for some blunderer might offend
another country and get us into war just through being stupid.
Conversely, when our ships are in foreign waters they must keep the
naval rules of the nation they are visiting."

"That's fair."

"It sure is," agreed Walter. "Besides that, all the shipboard radio
stations have to carry with them their license to prove that they are
authorized by their countries to operate a wireless outfit, and that
they fulfil the requirements of the government whose flag they fly.
Should any trouble arise when they are in a foreign port they can be
asked to produce this license; and if the foreign authorities whom
they are visiting have reason to suspect they are not meeting the
standards the license demands they can complain to the government that
is responsible for the ship."

"But suppose the government didn't know anything about such a ship?"

"Great Scott! But it does, man," ejaculated Walter. "There are lists
that contain not only the name and nationality of all ships but even
the names and addresses of its radio operators. There is no getting by
that."

"So the ships themselves are not allowed to take up their own quarrel
if they are challenged?" commented Dick.

"No. They simply have to stay perfectly polite and keep their mouths
shut, no matter how mad they are," grinned His Highness. "Otherwise
there would be squabbles all the time, for there are always
misunderstandings and grudges, and people who enjoy picking on one
another. All the ships would be fighting and the countries that owned
them, too, if everybody rolled up his sleeves and pitched into the
other fellow when things went wrong. Governments are supposed to be
more slow-moving, fair, and impartial. And anyhow, it is their job to
look out for their own citizens and see they are squarely treated. Bob
says it is a more dignified way than for individuals to fight out
their own quarrels. It certainly carries more weight. Nobody is going
to bully a ship and make trouble for its crew if a big nation stands
behind it. It serves as a check on the men, too, Bob told me, for when
they are in other countries and have shore leave they have to remember
that they must behave themselves and not disgrace their governments."

"You can't sail out of reach of Uncle Sam, eh? Apparently he knows in
a general way just how you are conducting yourself all the time,"
smiled Dick.

"That's about it," acquiesced Walter.

Whistling to the dogs, they turned about.

"What a pile you know about all this," Dick presently observed.

"Shucks! No, I don't," blushed His Highness. "I am only repeating what
Bob spieled off to me. He likes to talk when he's home and I like to
listen. It's interesting--at least I think so. Besides, I'm proud of
Bob knowing such a lot. I wish I did."

The lad dug his heel into the moist sand and watched the hole fill
with water.

"Somehow I'm an awful boob at books," he suddenly confessed. "I hate
so to study that Ma fairly has to haul me along by the hair or I'd
never go to school. I barely skinned through this year. Up to the very
last minute we all had cold chills for fear I wouldn't."

Dick shot the offender a sympathetic glance.

"I don't like reading about things myself so well as doing them," he
confided. "I'm crazy about machinery. It's fun to tinker with
it--take it to pieces and put it together again. I like nothing better
than to overhaul an engine."

He held up two grease-stained hands.

"It horrifies my mother," he continued, "but my father doesn't seem to
mind if I am all black with oil from my car or the motor boats. What I
want now is a wireless outfit. I'm going to strike Dad for one my
birthday. It comes the last of this month and he might as well give me
that as anything else. Do you suppose if he got it we could rig it up
together?"

Walter's eyes opened at the casualness of the observation.

In his family a birthday was an occasion for a chocolate cake, some
neckties, and perhaps a pair of rubber boots or a similar useful gift.
Or it sometimes brought with it a book and a box of candy. Never by
any chance did its felicitations expand into a gift so colossal as a
wireless apparatus. The breach between the two lads, which during the
exchange of confidences had narrowed into nothingness, widened
abruptly.

"A good set would be some present," he commented, thinking, perhaps,
the other boy might be ignorant of its value.

"Oh, I guess it would not break Dad," smiled Dick serenely. "He gave
me my car last year, and the year before--let me think--oh, the pups!"
He pointed to the Airedales, a streak of buff against the green of the
distant marsh. "Wireless couldn't cost much more."

"N--o, I don't believe it would," His Highness admitted slowly, the
contrast in their financial standards seeping in on him.

"Oh, I imagine I could have a set all right if I said the word,"
continued Dick, with the indifference of one to whom such presents
brought no agitation. "The question is, could we set it up if we had
it?"

"I couldn't," came promptly from Walter. "I think, though, that if Bob
was home on leave he might help us."

"Your brother? I had forgotten him. So he is at home sometimes?"

"Oh, yes. He gets off for a day now and then."

"It must be a whole lot of a bore to be tied down in a wireless
station listening for messages all the time," observed Dick
carelessly.

"Operators do not have to sit with their ears glued to the receivers
every second, man," declared the village lad. "The men are relieved at
regular hours. Besides, all stations both on shore and on shipboard
are divided into classes and have their hours carefully mapped out for
them. There are three different varieties of shipboard stations, for
example. Some have constant service; that is, operators are always
listening while the ship is underway. Then there is a second sort
where the operator listens in only during specified hours when the
office is open for business. A third class has no fixed hours at all,
the radio man just listening the first ten minutes of each hour."

"So the men just suit themselves, eh?"

"Suit themselves! You bet they don't," laughed Walter. "The government
defines their hours when their license is issued. The class they are
put in decides it."

"That's news to me," said Dick. "And the shore stations?"

"The shore stations are a chapter in themselves," Walter replied.
"There are several different kinds and each kind has its own rules."

"You don't propose to tell me about them, then," retorted the New
Yorker mischievously.

"It's too long a yarn," answered the other. "Besides, I might not get
it straight. Sometime, though, if you want me to, I'll pass on what I
know. But to-day I guess we ought to be hiking back. It is close onto
the time the pack is fed and I may have them yelping at my throat if I
don't hurry."

Quickening their pace the boys whistled to the dogs who came dashing
through the clumps of bayberry that dotted the field. They were
panting with thirst and only too ready to turn homeward. Across the
sandy hillocks, through pine-shaded stretches of woods, along the road
walled in with June roses they raced and chased, stopping now and
again to look back and make certain that their masters were following.
When the spit of sand narrowed to a ribbon and the entrance to
Surfside was reached they halted, lying down to cool off in the fresh
sea breeze until they should be overtaken. At the gate Dick and Walter
parted.

It was amusing to see the Airedales waver, then lured by hunger,
desert their owner and pursue Walter and Achilles.

They came up with lolling tongues at the kennels just as His Highness
was unlocking the door.

While he fumbled with the latch he noticed they sniffed excitedly
about and that Achilles barked.

"You're starved, poor old chaps!" remarked he aloud. "Well, no matter.
You shall have your dinner right off now."

Coaxing them in he banged the wicket behind him and passed through
into the pen where the Pekingese, clamoring for their food, came
yelping to meet him.

Instinctively he scanned the fluffy-coated group. Lola was not there.

The discovery, however, caused him no concern for often Mrs.
Crowninshield carried the prize-winner up to the big house or took her
for a ride in the car. Therefore, although her bright eyes were
missing he did not worry, but fed the other dogs and gave them fresh
water.

The task completed, he sauntered toward the garage.

How still it was everywhere. With the exception of Dick's racer every
car was gone and all the chauffeurs with them. Even Jerry was nowhere
about; and the gardeners were far down on the south slope where he
could just detect the clip of their shears as they trimmed the privet
hedge.

The grounds were as deserted as if the earth had swallowed up every
inhabitant. Surfside, deprived of its accustomed hum and bustle, was
actually lonely. With uncertain step the boy loitered in the sun,
glancing at the expanse of sea and at a knockabout that heeled
dangerously in the rising wind. Thinking he might find Jerry and thus
banish solitude he meandered up the avenue toward the house.

Jerry, however, was nowhere to be seen but the silence was broken by
the siren horns of approaching motors and the Crowninshield cars came
rolling in through the broad entrance.

Since he chanced to be on the spot he may as well go up to the
veranda, meet the family, and bring Lola back with him to be fed and
tucked up for the night.

Accordingly he hurried along and was at the steps almost as soon as
the automobiles came to a stop.

Together with a company of laughing guests, Nancy and Mr. and Mrs.
Crowninshield alighted.

"Such a beautiful ride as we've had, Dick!" called Mrs. Crowninshield
to her son. "We've been over to Harwich and picked up the Davenports,
you see, and brought them home for the evening. I think, Mrs.
Davenport, you remember my son, Richard. Nancy, take Janet and Marie
in with you so they can leave their wraps. You young people will have
just about time for a set of tennis before dinner."

The cars had shot away and she was about to go indoors when the
mistress of the house espied Walter.

"Did you wish to see me?" she called.

"I thought I'd take Lola down to the kennels."

"Lola! Is she here?"

"I thought you had her."

"No, indeed."

"But she must be here at the house."

"No, she isn't. I never leave her with the maids. She is at the
kennels."

"I've just come from there."

"And she wasn't there?"

"No, ma'am."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive!"

"But my dear boy, didn't you leave her there?"

"Yes. But I thought you took her when you went to drive. You have a
key."

"I didn't."

"And you did not give the key to any of the maids?"

"Of course not."

"Well, she isn't there," announced Walter, a tremor of trepidation
passing over him.

"Nonsense! She must be. Where else could she be?"

"I don't know."

"Oh, you haven't half looked," smiled Mrs. Crowninshield reassuringly.
"Lola is such a tiny dog she often gets hidden away out of sight. I'll
come and find her for you."

Excusing herself to her guests she followed Walter across the grass
and in silence they unfastened the wire gate that led into the
enclosure where the Pekingese were kept. But search as they would they
failed to discover the missing dog. Lola was gone! _Gone!_

CHAPTER VII

THE PURSUIT OF LOLA

Yes, Lola was gone; there could be no question about that.

Had not Walter scented trouble he would soon have been made aware of
it by the excitement that prevailed in the Peeks' kennels. Every dog
of the lot was barking furiously and with gleaming eyes and tail erect
striving to communicate tidings of importance. Yet bark as they might,
the message they sought to voice remained, alas, untold.

"If they could only speak we should soon know what has happened,"
bewailed the lad to Mrs. Crowninshield, as for the hundredth time they
searched every nook and corner for a clue to the mystery.

"Yes, they know--poor little things," their mistress agreed. "They are
trying their best to tell the story, too. I'd give worlds to know what
it is."

"And I."

"You are certain you locked everything up when you took the other dogs
out."

"Positive. Dick was with me and we both tried the gate before we
started."

"Nothing seems to be disturbed."

"No. That is the strange part of it."

Mrs. Crowninshield stopped, hot and breathless from her search.

"I cannot believe but that the mite will turn up. Have you asked Jerry
or Tim?"

"They were nowhere about when I got back," Walter replied. "The whole
place was still as the grave. I was just going to hunt up Jerry when I
saw the cars coming up the avenue."

"Well, I must not delay any longer now," announced Mrs. Crowninshield.
"The Davenports will be wondering what has become of me and so will
everybody else. Just find Jerry and Tim and quietly make sure they
have not taken the dog. In the meantime I will inquire of the maids at
the house. We will not, however, make too much talk about it, and send
out an alarm until we are certain there is a real tragedy. If I can
keep Mr. Crowninshield in ignorance of the matter until our guests
have gone I shall be glad. He will be dreadfully upset for he took
great pride in his possession of Lola and has declined numberless
offers to sell her."

"I know it," groaned Walter. "If it were only one of the other dogs
that was missing!"

"The fact that it isn't is what alarms me," returned the woman. "Lola
is a quiet little thing and has been petted so much that it would not
be like her to run away. Some of the other dogs might but she
wouldn't. She is far too timid."

"How could she run away, even if she had a mind to, with the gate
locked?"

"I know. That is another ominous fact." Mrs. Crowninshield shook her
head. "I'm afraid----"

"What?"

"That she has been stolen."

"Stolen!" gasped Walter. "But how could she with--with everybody
around?"

"But you yourself just said that nobody was around."

"Jove! That's true. Still somebody must have been here some time
during the afternoon. It is not likely Jerry, Tim, and all the rest
were out of hearing all the time I was gone."

"That is what we must find out."

"I'll go and hunt up Jerry now."

"Do. But work quietly; do not make a fuss. It will be time enough to
get everybody up in arms when we have to. I dread to think what Mr.
Crowninshield will say. He will be furious, simply furious."

With this dubious prediction his wife walked away.

She herself was upset. It was easy enough to see that. She strove,
however, to be calm, clinging desperately to the hope that the dog
might be discovered in the care of some of the men or maids. She
idolized Lola and although she did not admit it, His Highness knew
only too well that if it really proved that her pet was gone she, too,
would be furious.

"A nice mess!" commented the lad to himself as he hurried across the
lawn in search of Jerry. "A nice hole I am in the very first thing!
Between them they will tear me to pieces. And Ma--Ma will say, '_I
told you so!_' That's all the sympathy I'll get from her. She'll have
to know, of course, for Mr. Crowninshield will fire me bag and
baggage. I must expect that. Jerry as good as told me so when I came.
I sha'n't have a chance to defend myself. They will just believe I
left the gate of the kennels unlocked when I went out and that Lola
made off as fast as her four small feet could carry her. They will
either think that, or they will think--" he stopped aghast at the
possibility that had taken possession of his mind. "They couldn't
think I left it open on purpose for some one to get in and _take_
Lola! They couldn't think that! But suppose Mr. Crowninshield did
decide I was an accomplice what proof have I but my word that I
wasn't. It does look bad--my being gone and taking Achilles and the