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The Radio Boys Series
(Trademark Registered)
THE RADIO BOYS AT THE SENDING STATION
Or
Making Good in the Wireless Room
by
ALLEN CHAPMAN
Author of
The Radio Boys' First Wireless, The Radio Boys at Ocean Point
Ralph of the Roundhouse, Ralph on the Army Train
With Foreword by Jack Binns
Illustrated
[Illustration: THE TIME CAME FOR JOE TO GIVE HIS RECITATIONS.
The Radio Boys at the Sending Station. Page 209]
New York
Grosset & Dunlap
Publishers
Made in the United States of America
* * * * * *
BOOKS FOR BOYS
BY ALLEN CHAPMAN
12mo. Cloth. Illustrated.
THE RADIO BOYS SERIES
(Trademark Registered)
THE RADIO BOYS' FIRST WIRELESS
Or Winning the Ferberton Prize
THE RADIO BOYS AT OCEAN POINT
Or The Message that Saved the Ship
THE RADIO BOYS AT THE SENDING STATION
Or Making Good in the Wireless Room
THE RADIO BOYS AT MOUNTAIN PASS
Or The Midnight Call for Assistance
THE RADIO BOYS TRAILING A VOICE
Or Solving a Wireless Mystery
THE RAILROAD SERIES
RALPH OF THE ROUNDHOUSE
Or Bound to Become a Railroad Man
RALPH IN THE SWITCH TOWER
Or Clearing the Track
RALPH ON THE ENGINE
Or The Young Fireman of the Limited Mail
RALPH ON THE OVERLAND EXPRESS
Or The Trials and Triumphs of a Young Engineer
RALPH THE TRAIN DESPATCHER
Or The Mystery of the Pay Car
RALPH ON THE ARMY TRAIN
Or The Young Railroader's Most Daring Exploit
GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, New York
COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY
GROSSET & DUNLAP
The Radio Boys at the Sending Station
* * * * * *
FOREWORD BY JACK BINNS
Since this volume was written an epoch making invention has been announced
to the radio world. It is the super-regenerative system developed by E. H.
Armstrong, the wizard of Columbia University. This system is bound to
revolutionize the art of wireless communication in every branch, and is in
itself the most important discovery since Marconi put into operation the
first crude form of wireless apparatus.
I am mentioning this fact because there is the romance of youth overcoming
every obstacle placed before it tied up in the history of Armstrong's
remarkable achievements, and the story of this romance should stand
forward as an incentive to American boyhood.
Fifteen years ago when radio amateurs first began to send out wireless
telegraph messages, the federal authorities in Washington were at a loss
to devise some means that would regulate them. It was then that a bright
official conversant with radio said: "Put 'em down below 200 meters, and
they'll soon die out."
He knew perfectly well that it was almost impossible to operate on those
low wave-lengths with the apparatus in existence at that time--hence his
sardonic proposal. The amateurs, however, refused to "die out." Faced
with the inexorable regulation, they set to work to devise apparatus which
would operate successfully. Among them was E. H. Armstrong, a youth who at
that time was attending Columbia.
It was a really lucky thing for the world that the official in Washington
thought of his clever scheme to kill the amateurs, because it provided
just the incentive needed to set Armstrong to work. The result has been
that within ten years he has produced three epoch-making inventions, any
one of which would have been a remarkable life achievement in itself.
Such, briefly is the story of one radio boy overcoming difficulties, but
of course in this case it is a real story. It emphasizes the fact that
even in these highly developed and organized times there is always an
opportunity for boys to improve upon existing conditions, and since this
is the theme of the adventures of "The Radio Boys," I am very glad to
write the foreword to the series.
[Signature: Jack Binns]
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I The Collision 9
II To the Rescue 19
III At the Wireless Station 31
IV Radio Plans 46
V Back from the Beach 55
VI Radio's Long Arm 62
VII Learning to Send 69
VIII A Rattling Fight 77
IX Larry Reappears 85
X A Terrible Accident 94
XI Light Out of Darkness 102
XII A Glad Announcement 113
XIII Full of Promise 119
XIV An Impromptu Feast 125
XV Getting a Trial 135
XVI Speed 144
XVII Vaulting Ambition 151
XVIII New Hope 160
XIX Listening In 166
XX The Wonderful Science 173
XXI The Vanishing Crooks 178
XXII Broadcasting Marvels 185
XXIII The First Venture 197
XXIV Winning Out 204
XXV Solving the Mystery 215
THE RADIO BOYS AT THE SENDING STATION
CHAPTER I
THE COLLISION
"Isn't it a grand and glorious feeling?" exclaimed Bob Layton, a tall
stalwart lad of fifteen, as he stretched himself out luxuriously on the
warm sands of the beach at Ocean Point and pulled his cap a little further
over his eyes to keep out the rays of the sun.
"I'll tell the world it is," agreed Joe Atwood, his special chum, as he
burrowed lazily into the hollow he had scooped out for himself. "You don't
have to put up any argument to prove it, Bob. I admit it from the start."
"Same here," chimed in Herb Fennington, sprawled out in a fashion which if
certainly inelegant was quite as certainly comfortable. "Take it from me,
it's great. I could die loafing like this."
"Seems to be unanimous," remarked Bob, "although I haven't heard Jimmy's
musical voice mixing into the conversation and he's usually right there
with the talk. I wonder----"
Just then he was interrupted by a vigorous snore proceeding from a fourth
member of the group, a fat round-faced boy slightly younger than the
others, who was lying on his back a few feet away.
The boys broke into a laugh.
"There's the answer," chuckled Herb. "Trust Jimmy to go to sleep on the
slightest provocation. There's only one thing he can do better, and that
is eating."
"He sure is no slouch at either," laughed Joe. "The seven sleepers of
Ephesus had nothing on Jimmy. And if he went into a doughnut-eating
contest, I'd back him to my last dime."
"It's no wonder that's he's tired," said Bob, coming to the defense of the
unconscious Jimmy. "If either of you fellows had had the tussle he had
with the waves that night when he was hanging on to the broken bridge
expecting every minute to be his last, you wouldn't be feeling any too
lively, you can bet your boots."
"Right you are," admitted Herb. "That was a tough fight. It makes the cold
chills run up and down my back now when I think of it. I don't think
there'll be many times in Jimmy's life when he'll come so near death and
yet side-step it."
"You were pretty close to it yourself, Bob," put in Joe. "Your chances of
getting by didn't seem to be worth a plugged nickel. Of course you're
stronger than Jimmy and could have kept up longer if you'd been swept
away, but I don't believe there's any one living that could have bucked
that torrent."
"I'll admit that I felt mighty good when I got my feet on solid ground
again," said Bob. "There's no denying that that was a pretty strenuous
night, what with fighting the waves and Dan Cassey too. But we beat them
both and came through all right."
"Talking of Cassey," said Joe, "I saw the rascal this morning when I went
into the town to attend to a little business for my father. I wasn't far
from the jail and I dropped in to see just what arrangements had been made
for his trial. The warden was glad to see me--you know he's been pretty
strong for us since we saved the police the work of getting their claws on
Cassey--and as he was just about to make the rounds he asked me to go
along. So I had a chance to see Cassey behind the bars."
"I suppose he was glad to see you?" remarked Bob, with a grin.
"Tickled to death," laughed Joe. "I'm just as popular with him as poison
ivy. He got just purple with rage and shook the bars of his cell as
though he were trying to break them to get at me. He tried to tell me what
he thought of me, but he stuttered so much that he couldn't get it out. I
suppose he's stuttering yet."
"It's not surprising that he's sore at us," said Bob. "That's twice we've
put a spoke in his wheel; once when he tried to swindle Miss Berwick in
the matter of that mortgage and again when he blackjacked Harvey and
looted his safe. We sure have been a jinx for him."
"And he isn't the only one who has it in for us," said Joe, as he caught
sight of three boys of about their own age who were passing by, and who in
passing cast looks of dislike on the little group on the sands. "There's a
sweet bunch--I don't think."
The others followed the direction of Joe's glance and had no trouble in
agreeing with him.
"That Buck Looker is sure bad medicine," remarked Bob. "And Lutz and
Mooney who hang out with him are just about as bad. They're all tarred
with the same brush."
"They're a blot on the landscape--or perhaps I should say seascape," put
in Herb.
"Where every prospect pleases,
And only man is vile,"
chanted Joe. "Do you notice how everybody steers clear of them? Outside of
each other, not one of them has a friend in the whole colony."
"It's a wonder we haven't had a run in with them before this," ruminated
Herb.
"I guess Buck doesn't want any of our game," Joe rejoined. "He's already
had one licking from Bob, and it was only the butting in of Mr. Preston
that saved him from getting another one from me. But I have a hunch that
he'll get it yet. My knuckles are itching, and that's a bad sign--for
Buck."
"You'll get the chance all right," predicted Herb. "Ten to one they're
framing up some low-down game to play on us whenever they find an opening.
Maybe they'll try to put our radio set out of commission, just as they
stole Jimmy's set and tried to wreck Bob's aerial."
"They're welcome to try," said Bob carelessly. "Though they ought to be
cured of that idea when they remember how they flivvered the other times.
But talking of radio reminds me that we ought to get busy with that
lightning arrester we were talking about."
"What has lightning done that it ought to be arrested?" joked Herb.
For answer, Bob scooped up a handful of sand and threw it at the scoffer.
Herb ducked adroitly and the sand passed over his head and fell full on
Jimmy's mouth, which at the moment happened to be open.
There was a terrific coughing and sputtering, as Jimmy came up to a
sitting posture with a quickness that was quite foreign to his nature.
"Who--who the mischief did that?" he demanded, as soon as he could speak,
glaring indignantly from one to the other of his comrades, who at first
had been alarmed for fear he would choke but now were convulsed with
laughter.
"I did," confessed Bob, as he tried to restrain his untimely mirth. "But I
didn't mean to, old scout. Herb here had just gotten off one of his
horrible jokes, and I was trying to make the punishment fit the crime. I'm
awfully sorry."
"You look it," snorted Jimmy, still trying to get the remainder of the
sand out of his mouth. "You look as though your heart was broken, sitting
there and grinning like a monkey."
"Cross my heart and hope to die, I didn't mean to," declared Bob. "I
wouldn't have disturbed your innocent slumbers for anything in the
world."
"Never mind, Jimmy," put in Herb. "They say that every one has got to eat
a peck of dirt before they die, and you might as well start in early."
"I guess I got my whole peck then," grumbled Jimmy, as he rubbed his mouth
vigorously with his handkerchief. "I feel like a chicken with sand in its
craw."
"You ought to feel pretty good then," replied Herb, "for they eat it
because they like it."
"You're the cause of it all," said Jimmy. "When you try to be funny again,
do it when I'm not around. I'll bet the joke was a rotten one, anyway."
"Shall I tell it to you?" asked Herb hopefully.
"Not unless you're prepared to die," replied Jimmy, and Herb forebore to
add insult to injury.
"Now as to this lightning arrester," resumed Bob, leaving Jimmy to regain
his equanimity. "We've got to put it up, for the regulations require it
and we ought to have done it before."
Jimmy pricked up his ears but said nothing.
"I don't think there's really much need of it," objected Joe. "It's too
nice an afternoon to work. We've got a lightning rod on the cottage
anyway."
"It isn't so much for the cottage as the set," said Bob. "If the lightning
got into the receiving set it would make short work of it. Now here's the
kind of lightning switch we'll have to have," and he launched into an
earnest discussion of a type that was required by the radio regulations.
Jimmy took no part in the discussions, but they attributed this to a touch
of grouchiness and gave him time to get over it. Bob after a while
glanced at him, and saw that he wore a broad grin on his face.
"What's the joke, Jimmy?" he asked, a little suspiciously.
For only answer Jimmy broke into a peal of laughter.
"Of all the boobs," he chortled.
They looked at him and then at each other in bewilderment.
"Do you think the sun has affected his brain?" asked Herb, with affected
anxiety.
"It might have, if he had any brain to be affected," replied Joe, in the
same strain.
"Let us in on it, Jimmy," pleaded Bob. "Don't be selfish and keep it all
to yourself."
"Why, you thick heads," replied Jimmy, with more force than politeness,
"don't you know that you don't have to have a lightning arrester with a
loop aerial?"
There was a moment's silence while they let this sink in, and then a
sheepish grin stole into their faces.
"Sure enough," owned up Bob. "I knew that too, but I had forgotten it for
the time. I was thinking of the outdoor aerial. Of course on an indoor
aerial there's no need of a lightning arrester. Jimmy, I take off my hat
to you. As the leader of the lynching party said to the widow, after they
had lynched the wrong man, the joke's on us."
"I guess that evens things up," crowed Jimmy gleefully, his usual
good-humor completely restored. "To think of all that waste of good chin
music over nothing," he added mockingly.
"Don't rub it in," admonished Joe. "We'll admit that we're boobs and let
it go at that. Serves us right for thinking of working on a day like this,
anyway. Those people out there have the right idea," he continued,
pointing to a party in a rowboat some distance out from the shore.
"Wish we were out there with them," remarked Herb enviously, as his eyes
followed the boat, which had in it three persons, two boys and a girl.
"A sailboat would be good enough for me," put in Jimmy. "Rowing is too
much like work."
"Or better yet a motor boat like that one coming over from the right,"
said Herb. "In that thing the engine does all the work."
"Those fellows in the rowboat seem to be laboring pretty hard at the
oars," remarked Bob. "They don't seem to be any too expert, and the waves
are pretty rough since that wind sprang up."
"The reason they're pulling so hard is to get out of the way of that
motor boat," declared Joe. "It looks almost as though they were going to
run them down."
"There wouldn't be any excuse for that with the whole broad ocean to
maneuver in," commented Bob. "But, Great Scott!" he cried, jumping to his
feet. "That's just exactly what it's doing. Look! It's right on top of
them!"
The four boys watched with breathless interest the unfolding before their
eyes of what promised to be a tragedy.
The young men in the smaller boat were pulling like mad to get out of the
way of the motor boat bearing down upon them with undiminished speed. The
girl in the stern of the boat was wringing her hands and screaming.
Whether the two men in the motor boat failed to see the rowboat in their
path, or whether they were simply reckless and heartless, it was
impossible to tell. In any event, there was no shifting of the helm, no
slackening of speed. Swift and relentless as doom the motor craft drove
into the rowboat and crushed it like an eggshell.