Produced by Roger Frank and Sue Clark
[Illustration: “That cabin is exactly like the one I saw up at
Moosehead,” he whispered, as soon as he was beside Bob.]
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THE GOLDEN BOYS RESCUED BY RADIO
By L. P. WYMAN, Ph.D.
A. L. BURT COMPANY
Publishers—New York
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THE GOLDEN BOYS SERIES
A Series of Stories for Boys 12 to 16 Years of Age
By L. P. WYMAN, Ph.D.
Dean of the Pennsylvania Military College
The Golden Boys and Their New Electric Cell
The Golden Boys at the Fortress
The Golden Boys in the Maine Woods
The Golden Boys with the Lumber Jacks
The Golden Boys on the River Drive
The Golden Boys Rescued by Radio
The Golden Boys Along the River Allagash
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Copyright 1923 By A. L. BURT COMPANY
THE GOLDEN BOYS RESCUED BY RADIO
Made in “U. S. A.”
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THE GOLDEN BOYS RESCUED BY RADIO
CHAPTER I
THE POCKET RADIO.
“There, that’s done. Got that condenser ready, Jack?”
“I’ll have it in a jiffy, Bob. The wire’s come unsoldered and I’ve got
to fix it but it won’t take but a minute.”
“All right, but make it snappy. I’m on pins to know whether the thing’s
going to work.”
The two boys, Bob and Jack Golden, aged nineteen and eighteen
respectively, had been hard at work for nearly three weeks in their
laboratory in the basement of their home in Skowhegan, Maine, a small
town some hundred miles north of Portland, on the Kennebec River. It was
now nearly ten o’clock at night and they had been hard at work since
early morning in an endeavor to bring their labors to an end before
going to bed.
“There, she’s fixed,” Jack declared, with a sigh of relief as he placed
a small soldering iron in its place over the work bench.
“Good. Now you take your set up to the bedroom and we’ll give it a try
out. If it only works, it’ll be the best thing we’ve ever done, Jack
boy,” and Bob threw his arms about his brother’s neck and gave him a
hearty hug.
“Save the pieces,” Jack laughed as he turned to the bench and picked up
a small wooden case which he slipped into his coat pocket. Then from a
small drawer he took a brass cylinder about seven inches long and
slightly over an inch thick. Caps, which had the appearance of silver,
but were composed of an alloy, the secret of which was known only to the
two boys, closed the ends of the cylinder. Some three feet of fine wire
was soldered to the center of each cap. From the same drawer he took a
small round object closely resembling the ear piece of a head telephone.
“I’ll call you in about ten minutes,” he said as he started toward the
door. “That is, I’ll try to,” he added turning with his hand on the
knob.
As soon as his brother had closed the door Bob set to work assembling
his outfit similar, in all respects, to that which Jack had taken with
him. The small wooden case he put in an outside coat pocket pushing the
two wires which led from it through the lining of the coat. These he
quickly attached to the brass cylinder which he then slipped into his
inside pocket. The little telephone receiver, which was designed to
serve as a transmitter as well, he connected by two wires to the two
terminals at one end of the case and slipped it into the same pocket. As
he stood there there was nothing visible about him to indicate that he
carried on his person their latest invention.
“There, I guess there’s nothing more to do except wait,” he said aloud
as he sat down in a chair.
While he is waiting will be as good a time as any other to introduce the
two boys to any who have not read the previous volumes of this series.
Bob and Jack Golden were sons of a well-to-do manufacturer and
lumberman, Mr. Richard Golden. Their home was in the little town of
Skowhegan on the Kennebec River. The boys, being of an inventive turn,
their father had fitted up for them, in the basement of the home, a
combined workshop and laboratory. Here they spent many hours of their
vacations and more than one useful invention had resulted from their
labors. The most important was undoubtedly an entirely new type of
storage cell. This cell, though small enough to be carried in the
pocket, was yet powerful enough to run a motor boat or an automobile for
a long time.
“It’s about time I was getting that call,” Bob thought as he glanced at
his watch for the tenth time since Jack had left. “It’s been more than
ten minutes. Guess I’d better go up and see what’s up.”
But just as he started to rise from his chair a faint but distinct
buzzing sound caught his ear.
“There he is now,” he thought as he quickly pulled the receiver from his
pocket and held it to his ear.
“Hello, Bob. Can you hear me?” The words were as distinctly audible as
if his brother had been standing at his side.
“Fine,” he replied holding the small receiver, which, by pressing a
button on the side of the case, he had converted into a transmitter, a
few inches from his mouth. “It seems to work all right at this end. Can
you hear me?”
Pressing the button again he held the receiver to his ear once more.
“Plain as day,” came the delighted voice of his brother. “I’ll be down
in two shakes of a dog’s tail.”
Bob had hardly disconnected the wires and taken the case and cylinder
from his pockets when Jack burst into the room.
“Whoop la, she’s a go all right,” the younger boy shouted as he caught
hold of his brother and for a moment the two delighted boys executed an
Indian war dance about the room.
“We’d better not make too much noise,” Bob cautioned as out of breath he
threw himself into a chair. “I expect the folks are in bed by this time
and they may think the house is on fire,” he laughed.
“But to think that we’ve hit it at last after trying more than twenty
different things,” Jack declared as he too sat down. “It seems too good
to be a fact, but those selenium plates are evidently just the thing.
They catch the waves just as well and perhaps better than aerials.”
“They seem to is right,” agreed more cautious Bob. “But remember we’ve
tried them for only a comparatively few feet. How they will work at a
long distance is another question.”
“Of course that’s so,” agreed Jack thoughtfully, “but, for the life of
me, I can’t see why they won’t catch them just as well at a long
distance as at a short. Anyhow we’ll know before long. I’ll take my bike
and go up to the lake first thing in the morning and we’ll give them
another try.”
“That’s the ticket, and now I move we hit the hay for a few hours’
sleep, I’m about played out working all day and most of the night the
way we’ve been doing lately,” Bob said as he switched off the light.
The two boys had indeed as Jack put it, “been burning the candle at both
ends,” and they no more than touched their pillows before they were
sound asleep. Nor did they awake until their sister, Edna, called them.
“Come on there, you sleepy heads. Think I’m going to keep breakfast
waiting for you all day?” she cried as she sprinkled a few drops of
water on Jack’s face.
“Who called out the fire department?” the latter muttered as he sat up
and rubbed his eyes.
“It needs more than a fire department to get your eyes open,” Edna
laughed as she gave Bob a similar treatment. “You’ve got just three
minutes to get down to the table or you get nothing to eat,” and with
the ominous threat she ran from the room.
“Guess she means it,” Bob yawned as he threw the bed clothes to one
side.
They made it with ten seconds to spare, but, as Jack declared, “a miss
is as good as a mile.”
“Thought I’d scare you into hustling,” Edna declared as she placed a
huge plate of hot cakes in front of them.
“I’ll call you in about fifteen minutes,” Jack said a few minutes later
as he stood in front of the house ready to mount his motor cycle.
“Better make it twenty,” Bob laughed. “You’ll have Switzer on your trail
if you go to burning the road before you get out of town.”
“He’ll have a swell time catching me,” Jack declared as he started.
The motor cycle made not the slightest sound as he sped down the street.
The putt-putt of the usual gas engine was absent as the wheel was
equipped with a powerful electric motor driven by one of their new
cells.
Lake Wesserunsette, a beautiful sheet of water, nearly five miles long,
lies to the north of Skowhegan and about six miles distant. Here the
Goldens had a summer cottage situated near the shore of the lake in the
midst of the tall pines. “The Shadow of the Pines” as they had named the
cottage, was a large comfortably furnished house and during July and
August the family spent much of their time there. But this summer they
were a little later than usual and had not as yet opened the house.
“Just sixteen minutes,” Jack declared after a glance at his watch, as he
leaned the motor cycle against the steps of the front porch.
A moment later and he was sending the “call” to his brother by pressing
a small switch at one end of the case. Almost at once the answer came as
clear and distinct as on the previous night when they had been in the
same house.
“Distance don’t seem to cut any figure at all does it?” he declared a
moment later after they had congratulated each other.
“Doesn’t seem to, that’s a fact,” Bob replied. “I’m coming up and we’ll
have a sail in the Sprite,” he added.
Leaving his motor cycle leaning against the steps Jack quickly ran down
to the boat house. Fortunately he had the key in his pocket and in a
moment he had the door open. Everything was as he remembered to have
left it the previous summer. Slung above the water was the Sprite, an
eighteen foot boat, which, the summer before, they had equipped with an
electric motor in place of the gas engine.
“She’s sure a beauty,” Jack thought as he gazed at the boat’s graceful
lines.
He at once set to work lowering her to the water and had just finished
when Bob arrived.
“You didn’t lose any time getting up here,” Jack said.
“Seventeen minutes exactly.”
“Then I beat you by a minute,” Jack laughed. “But did you think to bring
up a cell?”
“Two of ’em,” Bob replied taking two brass cylinders, about half large
again as those which they had used for the radio outfits, from his
inside coat pocket.
It was the work of but a moment to slip one of the cells in place and in
less than ten minutes they were ploughing through the waters of the
lake, Jack at the helm while Bob lounged in the stern his hand within
reach of the switch which controlled the speed of the boat.
“Isn’t this simply glorious?” Bob asked as he pushed the switch over
another notch.
“It sure is the life,” Jack agreed enthusiastically, as he headed the
boat down the lake.
“I wonder just how far these pocket radios are going to be good for,”
Bob said pushing the switch over still another point.
“Only way to find out is to try ’em, I reckon,” Jack replied.
“How does this plan strike you? After dinner we’ll show Edna how to use
it, and then we’ll leave one set with her and we’ll take the other and
run up to the cabin at Moosehead. That’ll give it a test of fifty miles.
We’ll stay all night and come down in the morning.”
“Fine. That’ll be just the thing. We haven’t been up there since Spring
and perhaps I can get a mess of trout although it’s rather late,” Jack
agreed.
They made a complete circuit of the lake and it was close to eleven
o’clock when they returned to the boat house.
“Our last two summers have been pretty strenuous,” Bob remarked as they
were walking up to the cottage, “and I for one will be pretty fairly
content to spend a quiet time here.”
“Same here,” Jack laughed. “But I’ll bet something’ll turn up before the
summer is over to make it exciting.”
As it turned out Jack was correct but even he had little idea at the
time just how exciting that summer was destined to be. It is indeed
fortunate that the future is hidden from us. Had the two boys known what
was in store for them it is doubtful if they would have returned to
their home in the village in as high spirits.
Edna Golden, two years younger than Jack, readily agreed to help her big
brothers. Indeed she was always interested in whatever they were doing
and, as Jack often remarked, “she was a splendid pal.”
“If nothing happens we’ll call you at five o’clock,” Bob said as he
stood by the side of his motor cycle in front of the house. “I’m
allowing plenty of time for a puncture,” he added as he mounted the
wheel and started off down the street closely followed by Jack.
Moosehead Lake lies about fifty miles to the north of Skowhegan and the
log cabin, owned by Mr. Golden, was situated about half way up the lake,
which is all of forty miles long.
The dirt road, rough in many places, made fast traveling on a motor
cycle uncomfortable, not to say dangerous. However, as their way led
through only three or four small villages, they usually made the trip in
about two hours and a half. It was but a little past one o’clock when
they started so, as Bob had said, they considered that they had plenty
of time.
At half past two they had covered forty miles.
Bob was riding ahead with Jack some thirty feet behind when, suddenly
the latter heard a loud report like the crack of a pistol. He looked up
quickly to see Bob’s wheel wobbling from side to side as the rider made
frantic efforts to keep it under control. He succeeded finally and Jack
rode slowly up.
“Must have struck a sharp rock,” Bob declared as he examined the rear
tire of his machine. “I should say so,” he added a moment later as he
pointed to a ragged cut nearly two inches long.
“It’s a good thing we’ve got some blowout patches in the kit,” Jack
declared as he led his wheel to the side of the road and leaned it
against a tree.
Bob led his wheel a few feet down the road to where a large maple tree
offered a shady spot and the two boys at once set to work to make a
temporary repair. They found that the inner tube was split for a
distance of several inches, too long a split to be repaired with a
patch. Fortunately, however, Jack had a spare tube in his kit and in
less than a half hour they were ready to start again.
“I guess she’ll hold till we get there,” Bob said as he finished
wrapping tape over the cut.
Just as he was leading the machine out into the road a big car whirled
by in a cloud of dust.
“Did you see those two men on the back seat?” Jack asked as he led his
wheel up beside Bob.
“No, I didn’t notice them particularly. Why?”
“Nothing; only unless I’m greatly mistaken they were two of those
fellows that we caught making moonshine up on Mount Bigelow last
summer,” Jack replied quietly.
“Nonsense. Those fellows are in state prison serving a good long term,”
Bob declared. “You must be seeing things.”
“Mebbe. But I’ll never forget that guy with the hooked nose, and if that
wasn’t he it was his twin brother. Sometimes prisoners escape you know.”
“Yes, I know that, but I guess we’d have seen something about it in the
papers if they had escaped,” Bob replied as he started off.
“Just the same, that was the fellow all right,” Jack muttered to himself
as he followed suit.
Without further mishap they reached the cabin shortly before five
o’clock.
“Gee, but the old camp looks good,” Jack declared as they led the wheels
around to a small shed behind the cabin.
“She sure does,” Bob agreed. “I hardly know which place I like the
better, here or at Wesserunsette.”
At exactly five o’clock Bob pressed the switch on the little case and,
with the receiver at his ear, waited anxiously. However, he had not long
to wait, for almost immediately Edna’s voice came to him clear and loud.
Even Jack, without a receiver, could distinguish the words.
“Distance doesn’t seem to make a bit of difference, does it?” Bob said
after they had both talked with Edna.
“Not a bit so far as I could see. You’d thought she was right here in
this room,” Jack agreed enthusiastically. “But how about some eats? If
you’ll get a fire going and mix up a batch of biscuits I’ll see how the
trout are feeling about it.”
“Righto. You do your part and you’ll find the biscuits on the job all
right.”
Jack took his favorite rod from where it hung on the wall of the room
and started for a large brook which emptied into the lake a few hundred
yards below the cabin. It was a favorite fishing place of his and he was
almost sure of at least a fair catch. Nor was he disappointed on this
occasion. He found the trout hungry and in less than a half hour twelve
of the speckled beauties, none weighing less than two pounds, were
strung on a notched stick.
“There, I guess that’ll be enough for supper and breakfast and to take
down home to the folks,” he thought as he reeled in his line.
Just as he was about to pick up the string of fish he heard a noise just
behind him and, looking up, he saw a man, standing just at the edge of
the woods, staring at him. He was an evil-looking man, tall and broad
shouldered, evidencing great strength. His face was covered with a
course stubble of several days’ growth, and his shaggy eyebrows were
drawn in what seemed to be a perpetual frown.
“Howdy, sonny. How’s the fishing?” The man evidently was striving to
make his voice sound pleasant as he stepped forward.
Now Jack never did like to be called sonny and the term coming from this
trampish appearing man made the hot blood rush to his face. But he
quickly got his feelings under control and replied pleasantly enough.
“It’s first rate, thank you,” and held up the string for the man’s
inspection.
“You shore have got some good uns. How ’bout givin’ a feller a couple
fer supper?”
“You are welcome to them,” Jack replied as he took two of the fish from
the stick and handed them to the man.
The man grunted something which might have been thanks as he dropped
them into a sack which he carried in his right hand.
“You stayin’ round here?” he demanded.
“Not long. Only over night.”
“Reckon that’s your place back thar.” The man pointed over his shoulder.
“Yes, that’s our cabin.”
“Wall, reckon I’ll be trudgin’,” and, throwing the sack over his
shoulder the man started up stream and in a moment was lost to sight in
the thick woods.
All the time Jack had been talking with the man he had been searching
his memory. Where had he seen that man before? That he had seen him he
was sure, for his face as well as his voice was strangely familiar. But
try as he might he was unable to place him.
“Guess I’d better catch a couple more to make up for those two,” he
thought as he picked up his rod. The fish were as hungry as ever and it
was but the work of a few minutes to replenish the string.
“I wonder where that fellow was bound for,” he thought as he again
reeled in his line.
Some impulse, which he could not have explained, urged him to follow the
man.
“Guess it’s a fool thing to do,” he muttered as he hid the fish and his
rod in a thick clump of bushes, “but I’ve just got to follow that fellow
a little way anyhow.”
Just above where he had been fishing the trees grew close to the edge of
the stream. Careful not to make the slightest noise the boy stole
through the thick woods, his ears keen to catch any sound. Every few
yards he stopped to listen. He had no real thought that the man would
expect him to follow him but he was well acquainted with the character
of men of his type and knew the value of caution.
He had followed the course of the brook for about a quarter of a mile
and had about decided to turn back when suddenly the sound of voices
reached his quick ears. He listened but although he could hear the
voices plainly enough he was unable to catch the words.
“Guess they’re talking canuck,” he thought as he stole cautiously
forward. As he advanced the voices grew more distinct and soon he was
able to catch a word now and then. Although he was somewhat familiar
with the language, the men were talking so rapidly that he was unable to
get the drift of the conversation. That there were at least three men
present he was certain and he judged that the man he had encountered was
telling the others about the meeting. He crept a little nearer and
finally, peering through the thick undergrowth, he caught sight of a
small cabin built of unpeeled logs and evidently quite new. Just in
front of the door he could see three men standing. One was the man he
had met and, it was plain that the others were half-breeds.
For some moments he crouched trying to catch the drift of the talk. But,
to his disappointment, he was unable to do so, although he was sure that
the men were talking about him. This belief was strengthened by the fact
that a number of times the man, to whom he had given the fish, pointed
toward the Golden cabin.
But after a few minutes the men went into the cabin and, greatly
disappointed. Jack started back.
“They’re sure tough customers and I’ll bet a fish hook they’re up to
something,” he thought as he made his way quickly through the thick
forest.