"When do we give the concert, Herb?" asked Bob at breakfast the next
morning.
"Mother isn't quite sure yet," replied Herb to Bob's question. "Not
until she consults with some of the others, anyway. But she thinks that
a week from to-night will be all right. Guess one night's the same as
another as far as we are concerned."
As a matter of fact, the projected concert was scheduled several days
sooner than Herb had predicted, being set for the ensuing Saturday
night, so as to get as many of the week-end visitors as possible.
Tickets to the affair sold well, and from the first it became evident
that there would be a large attendance. People were only too glad to
come, both for the sake of hearing good music and to know that they were
contributing to a worthy charity. The boys, as the volume of sales
increased, realized that it was up to them to see that the visitors
should have the worth of their money and they went over the set with a
"fine-tooth comb," to use Herb's expression, in order to make sure that
every part of it was in fine working order.
"We'll have to test everything out pretty thoroughly," remarked Bob,
that Saturday morning. "We'd never hear the last of it if anything went
wrong to-night."
"You bet!" said Joe. "We've got to have everything in apple-pie order."
The audience began to arrive early. A large space had been roped off in
front of the central bungalow and furnished with rows of campchairs. The
boys had set up the loud-speaking horn on a small table on the porch,
running leads from it to their apparatus in the living room. This
enabled them to operate the set out of sight of the audience.
By eight o'clock almost everybody was in his place, waiting expectantly,
and in some cases somewhat sceptically, for the music to begin.
But they had not long to wait. Inside the bungalow the boys, excited and
tense, heard the familiar voice of the announcer at WJZ, the big Newark
broadcasting station. While he was speaking the boys had the horn
outside disconnected, but with their head phones they tuned until the
announcer's voice was distinct and clear and all other sounds had been
tuned out. Then, as the announcer ceased speaking, and in the brief
pause that ensued before the first selection on the program started, the
boys connected in the loud-speaker on the porch.
The concert commenced. Violin solos, vocal selections, and orchestral
numbers followed each other in quick succession, every note and shade of
tone being reproduced faithfully by the radio boys' set.
The audience sat in absorbed silence, listening spellbound to this
miracle of modern science. At intervals they could not resist
applauding, although the artists producing the music were many miles
away. When the concert was over at last there was a regular storm of
handclapping and calls for the boys, who at length had to appear on the
porch, looking, it must be confessed, as though they would rather have
been almost anywhere else.
Cries of "Speech! Speech!" came from the audience, and at last Bob
stepped forward.
"We're mighty glad if all you folks enjoyed the concert," he said. "We
boys are all very much interested in radio, and we want to have
everybody know what it is like. Maybe before the sanitarium gets
finished you'll have to listen to another concert," he added, with a
grin.
Cries of "we hope so" and "make it soon" came from the audience, which
then dispersed with many expressions of commendation for the evening's
entertainment.
When the receipts for the evening were counted it was found that they
had taken in over four hundred dollars, which was soon turned over to
the trustees of the sanitarium.
The concert was the chief topic of conversation in the neighborhood for
the next few days, and the radio boys were deluged with requests for
information concerning radio and radio equipment. They were somewhat
surprised at the furor caused by their concert, but that was probably
the first time that most of those present had ever heard radio music or
had reason to give more than passing thought to the subject.
But the boys had other interests in addition to radiophony to absorb
their attention. At last word had come that the tourists had started
home, and the boys were excited at the thought of soon seeing their
parents and Rose again. They had written that they would come from
Norfolk to Boston on the steamer _Horolusa_, a combination freight and
passenger ship.
"Say!" exclaimed Bob, when he read this, "wouldn't it be great if they'd
send us a wireless message from their ship when they pass Ocean Point on
the way to Boston?"
"You bet it would," said Joe. "Do you suppose they'll think of it?"
"They'll probably be passing here some time to-morrow," said Jimmy; "so
it will be up to us to keep close to the radio outfit in case they do
send a message. Probably they'll never think of it, though."
"I hope they have good weather for the trip," said Bob. "It doesn't look
very favorable just now."
"It doesn't, for a fact," agreed Joe. "It's been cloudy and muggy for
the last two days, and it's worse than ever to-day. But it probably
won't amount to anything. There isn't apt to be a bad storm at this time
of year."
But the weather failed to justify Joe's optimism. As the day wore on the
cloudiness increased, and toward evening a breeze sprang up that kept
freshening until it had attained the proportions of a gale. All that
night it blew with increasing violence, and the next day, when the boys
went down to look at the ocean, they were alarmed at the size and fury
of the surf. Toward evening their anxiety increased, as no word had come
from the _Horolusa_, although they had spent the afternoon at their
radio set. They overheard messages of distress from other vessels,
however, and knew that the storm was creating havoc along the coast.
Night came on early, with the gale still blowing with unabated fury, and
after supper Bob proposed that they go to the big radio station and see
if there was any news there of the _Horolusa_.
"That will be fine," said Jimmy. "If they haven't received any news of
the ship there, we can be pretty sure that she is all right, because
they would have been sure to get any distress message if it had been
sent out."
The boys made a hasty end of their meal, and then started through the
storm and darkness for the wireless station. It was raining in torrents
that were driven before the gale and penetrated the thickest clothing.
The only light the boys had came from an occasional jagged flash of
lightning, and they kept to the path more by instinct than knowledge of
its direction. But, with heads lowered to the storm, they plodded
doggedly on, their minds filled with forebodings of disaster to their
loved ones. The terrible roar of the breakers on the beach made them
shudder with dread.
Suddenly a tremendous flash of lightning split the sky, and in the
fraction of a second that the vivid glare endured they saw a man coming
toward them whom Bob and Joe recognized at once. It was Dan Cassey, the
scoundrel who had tried to cheat Nellie Berwick in the matter of the
mortgage on her home.
More from instinct than anything else, the radio boys sought to block
the man's path, guessing that he was probably on some evil errand and
remembering the warning that Miss Berwick had given them. Cassey struck
out at random, and one lucky blow caught Joe unawares and knocked him
down. The other boys sprang at Cassey, but in the darkness he managed to
elude them and took to his heels.
It was hopeless to attempt to find the rascal in the pitch blackness,
and after running a few steps the boys realized this and returned to
help their comrade.
The latter had gotten to his feet and was fuming with anger, and it was
all that his friends could do to dissuade him from rushing off through
the darkness in quest of his assailant.
"But he was headed for the village probably," expostulated Joe. "We'll
probably find him there if we get there before he has time to light
out."
"Maybe. But it's more important just now to get to the wireless station
and find out if there's any news of the _Horolusa_," said Bob. "If we
find out that she's all right, we can get after Cassey later."
"That's good dope," said Jimmy. "The sight of that rascal has made me
feel more scared than ever for the folks. He's a hoodoo, a raven, a sign
of bad luck. I'm not superstitious, but meeting him has given me the
creeps."
The boys resumed their interrupted journey, and before long could see
the lights of the radio station shining through the rain.
"Now, if we can only find out that the steamer is safe!" sighed Bob.
"If we only do!" came from Joe. "It would be terrible if anything went
wrong in this awful storm."
The boys increased their pace, and were soon mounting the steps of the
porch. To their surprise, the door was wide open, and almost by instinct
they felt that something was wrong. Their suspicions were confirmed the
next moment, for as they entered the house the first object they saw was
their friend, Brandon Harvey, stretched unconscious on the floor with
blood trickling from a wound on his head. The little safe of which he
had spoken the last time the boys were there stood wide open, and the
cash drawer lay empty on the floor.