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[Illustration: He sprang to the instrument table, seized and adjusted
a headpiece, pulled a transmitter to him, he began calling.
(_Radio Boys With the Revenue Guards_) _Page 140_]
THE RADIO BOYS
WITH THE REVENUE GUARDS
By GERALD BRECKENRIDGE
Author of
"The Radio Boys on the Mexican Border," "The Radio Boys on Secret
Service Duty," "The Radio Boys' Search for the Inca's Treasure," "The
Radio Boys Rescue the Lost Alaska Expedition."
[Illustration: Frontispiece]
A. L. BURT COMPANY
Publishers New York
THE RADIO BOYS SERIES
A Series of Stories for Boys of All Ages
By GERALD BRECKENRIDGE
The Radio Boys on the Mexican Border
The Radio Boys on Secret Service Duty
The Radio Boys with the Revenue Guards
The Radio Boys' Search for the Inca's Treasure
The Radio Boys Rescue the Lost Alaska Expedition
Copyright, 1922
By A. L. BURT COMPANY
THE RADIO BOYS WITH THE REVENUE GUARDS
Made in "U. S. A."
CHAPTER I
TWO MYSTERIES
"Not much like last summer, is it, Jack?"
"Not much, Frank."
"No Mexican bandits. No Chinese bad men. No dens in Chinatown. Say,
Jack, remember how you felt when we were licked in our attempt to
escape from that dive out in San Francisco? Boy, that was the time
when things looked mighty blue. Jack?"
No answer.
"Jack?" In a louder tone.
Still no answer.
Frank turned around impatiently from where he lounged in the open
doorway of the radio station, and faced his chum at the receiver.
"Oh, listening-in," he exclaimed, and fell silent. Facing about, he
gazed southward to where, less than a mile away, sparkled in the
bright July sunshine the clear waters of the open Atlantic.
Frank Merrick was thinking of the adventures crowded into the lives of
himself and his two chums, Jack Hampton and Bob Temple, during their
summer vacation the previous year. All three boys were sons of wealthy
parents and lived on country estates at the far end of Long Island.
Jack's mother was dead. Frank who was an orphan, lived with the
Temples. All had attended Harrington Hall Military Academy, but Jack,
a year older and a class ahead of his chums, had graduated the
previous spring and already had spent his Freshman year at Yale.
The previous year Jack had gone to New Mexico with his father, an
engineer, who was then superintendent in charge of field operations of
a syndicate of independent oil operators. Mr. Hampton had been
captured by Mexican rebels, and rescued by the boys, for Frank and Bob
with Mr. Temple had joined Jack after his father's loss. Later Mr.
Temple had taken the boys on to San Francisco with him, and there they
had become involved in the plottings of a gang of Chinese and white
men, smuggling coolies into the country in violation of the Exclusion
Act.
It is not to be wondered at that Frank, dreaming of those adventurous
days as he lounged in the doorway, felt a twinge of regret at what
promised to be a dull vacation by comparison.
It was true, he thought, they had everything to make them happy and
keep them interested, however. Here was the powerful radio station
built by Mr. Hampton under government license to use an 1,800 meter
wave length, for purposes of trans-oceanic experiment. Then, too,
Frank and Bob jointly owned a powerful all-metal plane, equipped with
radio, and adapted for land or water flying. Besides, there was the
new and powerful speed boat bought for the three of them this summer
by Mr. Hampton and Mr. Temple.
And their homes were admirably located for vacationing, too. On the
far end of Long Island, miles from another human habitation, with
dense woods, miles of lonely beach, and the open sea--all at their
command. Well, Frank thought, after all it might not be so exciting a
summer as the last, yet the three of them ought to be able to have a
pretty good time.
An exclamation of anger from Jack caused Frank to face about. His chum
had taken the receiver from his head.
"That interference again?" asked Frank.
"Yes," replied Jack, rising and joining his chum in the doorway. "Oh,
there comes Bob," he added, pointing to a tall, broad figure swinging
over the top of a low sandhill from the beach.
Frank's glance followed in the direction Jack indicated. Although Bob
was still distant there was a purposefulness about his stride and
about the way he waved a response to their greetings that caught his
chum's attention.
"Bob's got something on his mind," he said, with conviction. "Wonder
what it is?"
"Maybe, he found something, hiking along the beach."
"Maybe, he did," agreed Frank. "I didn't feel like hitting it up with
him this morning, felt kind of lazy, as if I had spring fever. It
would be just my luck to have him make a discovery on the one morning
I wasn't along with him."
Bob's figure disappeared in a fold in the sandhills, and Frank
remembering Jack's disgust over interference in the radio receivers,
began to question him about it while waiting for Bob to arrive.
"What was it like this time, Jack?" he asked.
"Just the same, only worse," answered Jack. "Tune up to 1,375 meters
for receiving and then comes that snarling, whining, shrieking sound.
It's steady, too. If it were dot and dash stuff, I might be able to
make something out of it. But somebody somewhere is sending a
continuous wave, at a meter length, too, that is practically never
used. From 1,100 meters to 1,400 meters, you know, is reserved and
unused wave territory."
"I wonder what it can be," said Frank.
Bob by now had approached within calling distance, and he was so
excited that he began to run.
"What's the matter?" called Frank.
"Somebody chasing you?" asked Jack, as the big fellow ploughed through
the sand and halted before them.
Bob grinned tantalizingly.
"What would you give to know?"
"At him, boys. At him," cried Jack, making a flying tackle.
His arms closed about Bob's waist. At the same time, Frank who had
been standing to one side, dived in. His grip tightened about Bob's
legs below the knees. All three lads rolled over in the sand in a
laughing, struggling heap. Presently, Jack and Frank bestrode the form
of their big chum and Frank, who sat on his chest, gripped Bob's
crisply curling hair.
"Now will you tell?" he demanded in mock ferocity. "If you don't----"
"All right, you big bully," answered Bob. "Why don't you pick on a
fellow your size?"
With which remark, he gave a mighty heave--as Frank afterwards
described it "like a whale with a tummyache"--and Frank and Jack went
sprawling. Then he stood upright, brushing the sand from his khaki
walking clothes.
"Oh, is that you down there?" he asked. "Why, where did you come
from?"
Then, as Frank made a clutch for his ankle, he brushed him aside and
sat down on the sand:
"Say, listen, cut out the fooling. I've got something to tell you
fellows."
Bob was so plainly excited that his chums were impressed. Scrambling
up they seated themselves beside him.
"Fire away," said Jack.
"What would you say to my finding the tracks of a peg-legged man
coming up out of the sea, crossing the sands of Starfish Cove and
disappearing into the trees beyond there?"
The inlet which Bob thus referred to was some three miles distant,
with a patch of timber some twenty yards back from the water and a
ring of low sandhills behind the woods.
"A peg-legged man?" said Frank. "That certainly sounds piratical. Go
on. Your imagination is working well to-day."
"Did he arrive in a boat?" asked Jack.
Bob nodded.
"Yes. I found where the boat had been run up on the sand. But--he
didn't leave. The boat went away without him. He disappeared inland,
and there were no tracks marking his return."
Jack whistled.
"Whew. Did you follow?"
"Did I follow? Huh. You can just bet I did follow. And, say,
fellows----"
"What?"
"I know now where that strange interference in our radio receivers
comes from."
"Is that so?" demanded Jack, excitedly. "It was cutting up didoes just
a few minutes ago, just before you arrived. Had been for some time,
too."
"Well," said Bob, "that's not to be wondered at. For when I followed
Peg Leg's tracks through the trees I discovered a radio station tucked
away in a hollow behind the timber, with sandhills hiding it on the
landward side. I watched for a while from behind a tree, but couldn't
see anybody. Then I hustled here to tell you fellows about it."
Puzzled, the trio regarded each other in silence. Presently Jack
spoke.
"Look here, fellows. There's something queer about this. A mysterious
radio station, hidden away, that sends a continuous wave on a hitherto
unused wave length. This has been going on for a week. What does it
mean? Then there is this man, this Peg Leg, whom Bob discovers
arriving from the sea."
"Let's go together and investigate," cried Frank, jumping to his
feet.
"I'm with you," declared Bob, also arising. "I would have gone up to
the station and done that very thing, by myself, but--I don't
know--there was something about it all--something sinister."
"Wait a minute, you fellows," said Jack, also springing upright. "We
can't go putting our heads into trouble recklessly. Bob's good sense
prompted him when he refrained from pushing up to that radio station
by himself. There is something sinister about this. That place is
isolated, there are no roads near it, nobody ever hikes along that
beach except us. How did the station ever come to be built? Why, the
material and supplies must have been brought by boat. They couldn't
have been transported overland very well."
"What shall we do, though, Jack?" asked Frank, impatiently. "You can't
reasonably expect to have a thing like this rubbed under our noses
without our going ahead and investigating."
There was so much plaintiveness in his voice, as of a child from whom
a toy was being withheld, that Bob and Jack both burst into laughter.
Then Jack sobered.
"Tell you what I think," he said. "It's only mid-afternoon. Let's get
out your plane, and take a look at this place from the air."
"I guess the old boat is working all right now," said Frank. "How
about it, Bob? You know we haven't been up for two or three weeks,
Jack. Bob's been tinkering with it. When I last saw him at work, he
seemed to have the engine entirely dismantled. Looked to me as if he
had enough parts for three planes. Did you get it together again,
Bob?"
"Yes," said Bob. "And she'll fly now, boy, believe me. Well, come on,"
he added, starting for the hangar, not far distant but out of sight
behind the sandhills.
The others followed.