PUTTING IT THROUGH
The boys stared at him for a moment as though he had gone suddenly
crazy. Then the light of adventure dawned in their eyes, and they
grinned joyously.
"Say, old boy," said Joe in an awed voice, "that sure is some swell
idea. But do you think we could swing it? We know a lot about
receiving, but when it comes to sending----"
"We're a bunch of nuts," finished Jimmy, decidedly.
"Maybe," retorted Bob. "But at this time, even a bunch of nuts might
be better than nothing."
"We've been studying the code," said Joe thoughtfully. "We might be
able to handle it all right. It isn't the first time, if we're not
experts. Of course we can do it."
"But not for old Salper," said Herb. "He's so impatient he'd make us
forget in five minutes everything we ever knew."
"Maybe," said Bob again, adding, stoutly: "But I'm game to make a try
at it anyway. There's no one else to do it, and Mr. Salper stands to
lose his wife and a lot of money besides if some one doesn't help him
out."
"Well, let's make him the proposition," suggested Joe, pausing and
looking back at the Salper house. "I'm with Bob in this thing."
"So say we all of us," sang Herb cheerily, as they turned back.
"So long as Bob's the goat," finished Jimmy.
They found Mr. Salper in the living room of the bungalow, savagely
smoking a cigar. He scarcely looked at the boys when the girls let
them in, and Bob was forced to speak his name before he gave them his
attention.
"Well, what is it?" he said gruffly, his tone adding plainly: "What
are you doing here anyway? I wish you'd get out."
The tone made Bob mad, as it did the other boys, and when he spoke his
own tone was not as pleasant as usual.
"We've decided to try to help you out, if we can, Mr. Salper," he
said, and the man looked at him with a mixture of surprise and
incredulity.
"In what way?" he asked, in the same curt tone.
"We know something about sending and receiving messages by radio," Bob
went on, getting madder and madder. "And we thought maybe we might get
a message through for you to a doctor and to your brokers, as well. Of
course," he added, modestly, "we haven't had very much experience----"
Bob was too modest to say anything about how he had once sent messages
to some ships at sea, (as related in detail in "The Radio Boys at
Ocean Point,") and how he had tried to send on other occasions.
"Experience be hanged!" cried Mr. Salper, so suddenly that the boys
jumped. "You mean to tell me you can operate that radio contraption?"
"I think so," said Bob, still modestly. "We haven't done much along
that end of it----"
"You'll do," cried Mr. Salper, while Edna and Ruth stared at him with
tear-reddened eyes. "Are you ready to go with me right away to the
station?"
The boys nodded and the older man shrugged into his great coat,
reaching quickly for his cap.
"Take care of your mother," he said to the girls. "I'll stop on my way
over to the hotel and send a nurse over for her. I hear there are two
of them there. Don't see why the physician there didn't send some one
to take his place if he had to leave."
In a moment the radio boys found themselves once more in the freezing
air of the out-of-doors, being hurried along by the erratic Mr.
Salper.
Poor Jimmy suffered on that forced march. Although he uttered no word
of protest, his face was purple and his breath came in little puffing
gasps before they had reached the hotel.
Once there, they had a little respite, however, while Mr. Salper went
to arrange about having a nurse sent over to his wife. Jimmy waited in
the hotel lobby in a state nearing collapse while the other boys went
up to inquire once more about their friend, the operator.
They found him no better--worse, if anything--and their faces were
very solemn when they rejoined Jimmy in the lobby.
"Guess it will be nip and tuck if he gets through at all," said Bob,
anxiously. "I don't see why such hard luck had to pick him out for the
victim."
"I suppose they'll appoint another operator right away," suggested
Herb.
"I suppose so," agreed Jimmy. "But it will be hard to get any one for
a week or more on account of the heavy weather."
"And in a week's time without communication with the outside world a
lot of Mr. Salper's money will probably have gone up in smoke," said
Joe.
"Yes, it's us on the job all right," said Bob, looking a bit worried.
"I only hope we can live up to what's expected of us."
"All right, boys," said Mr. Salper, on returning, in his eyes the
preoccupied look of the man of affairs. "If you can help me out of
this fix, I will surely be deeply in your debt."
These genial words--almost the first that they had heard from the
self-absorbed man--warmed the boys' hearts and they resolved to do the
best they could for him, and, through him, for his daughters.
When they reached the station they found it deserted save for one man
who sat at a desk, humped over in a dispirited fashion, reading a
magazine.
At the entrance of Mr. Salper and the boys he looked up, then got up
and came over to them as though he were glad of their companionship.
"How do you do, Mr. Salper?" he said, addressing the older man with
marked respect. "Is there anything I can do for you?"
"Nothing, unless you can work this contrivance," returned Mr. Salper,
with a comprehensive wave of his hand toward the cluttered radio
table.
"I'm sorry," said the other, a frown of anxiety lining his forehead.
"The operator is sick, and because of the heavy weather it is doubtful
if we shall be able to secure another one within the week."
"A week!" cried Mr. Salper. "That amount of time, my friend, may very
easily spell ruin for me. It is necessary that I communicate with New
York immediately. Are you ready, boys?"
The man looked with surprise, first at the radio boys and then back to
Mr. Salper.
"Am I to understand----" he began, when Mr. Salper cut him short with
an imperative wave of the hand.
"These boys," he said, "know something of radio. How much they know I
am about to find out.
"Are you ready?" he asked, sharply, as the boys still hesitated. "A
delay of even a few minutes would be regrettable."
The boys looked at each other, and since no one else made a move to
approach the apparatus, Bob saw that it was up to him. And right there
he realized the great difference that there is between theory and
practice. Of course they had had some practice in sending and they
were fairly familiar with the code, but never before had they been
called upon to make use of their knowledge in such a matter as this.
Then too, Mr. Salper was not the kind of person to inspire
self-confidence. He was a driver, and it is hard to do good thinking
when one is being driven.
However, having gone so far, there was no possibility of backing out
and with a show of confidence, Bob approached the apparatus. The man
who had addressed Mr. Salper regarded him with not a little distrust.
He had heard of the radio boys, as who at Mountain Pass had not, but
he certainly did not think them competent to send a message of any
importance.
And at that moment, neither did Bob.
"Will you send your message phone or code?" he asked, looking up at
Mr. Salper inquiringly. "We can do either here."
Mr. Salper hesitated for a moment, then with a significant glance at
the other man, who was hovering curiously near, he snapped out,
"Code."
"Do you know the letters of the station to be called?" asked Bob.
The broker consulted a notebook which he took from his pocket.
"Call HRSA," he returned. "That is our Stock Exchange station," he
explained. "They ought to be on the job while the Exchange is open.
They will relay a message to my brokers."
Joe was standing beside Bob and saw that his chum's hand trembled
somewhat as he took hold of the ticker.
"Don't get rattled, Bob," he whispered. "Take your time and don't let
him scare you. Remember, it's you that's doing the favor."
Bob grinned, and then began sending out the call. Across the ether
traveled the letters HRSA and the call was presently caught up in New
York and then another message was relayed to the office of a
well-known brokerage firm.
"Hey, Bill," called a well-dressed young man seated at a desk in the
far end of the office. "Here's WBZA calling us. These are the letters
of the station at Mountain Pass----"
"Where the Honorable Mr. Gilbert Salper is taking his rest cure,"
finished another man, flinging away his cigarette and coming to stand
beside his partner. "Do you suppose it's the old boy himself calling?"
"We'll soon find out," returned the other, and without delay sent in a
message to the New York sending station. In a few seconds they were
being radioed into the ether.
Bob's face beamed as he transcribed the dots and dashes into words.
The message read thus:
"WBZA heard from. HRSA awaiting message."
Mr. Salper, who had been striding up and down, hurried to Bob's side
in answer to the lad's hail. The other boys were peering eagerly over
Bob's shoulder.
"I've reached HRSA and through them H. & D.," explained the young
operator proudly. "H. & D. are waiting for your message."
"Fine! Fine!" cried Mr. Salper, and his face showed great enthusiasm.
"Those are my brokers, Hanson and Debbs. Got 'em right off the reel,
didn't you, boy? Great work! Can you get my message through at once?"
"I don't know of anything to stop me," answered Bob. It seemed too
good to be true that he had picked up the right station so quickly.
"Send this, then," Mr. Salper directed. And in a firm hand he wrote
down the following message:
"Mohun is a crook and plots to ruin me. Find out
his scheme and check him.
Gilbert Salper."