RADIO BOYS IN THE THOUSAND ISLANDS
or, The Yankee-Canadian Wireless Trail
by
J. W. DUFFIELD
Author of
RADIO BOYS IN THE SECRET SERVICE; or, Cast Away on an Iceberg.
RADIO BOYS IN THE FLYING SERVICE; or, Held For Ransom by Mexican Bandits.
RADIO BOYS IN THE ROCKIES; or, The Mystery of the Lost Valley.
1922
CONTENTS
Chapter
I Vacation Plans
II Tragedy or Joke
III Talking it over
IV The Catwhisker
V A Baffling Situation
VI A Mystery and Cub's "Goat"
VII Returning Cub's "Goat"
VIII Mathematics or Geography?
IX The Radio Diagram
X The Island-Surrounded Island
XI The Deserted Camp
XII Hal's Discovery
XIII "Robinson Crusoe's" Diary
XIV More Light and More Mystery
XV The Hook-up on Shore
XVI Running down a Radio Fake
XVII Bud's Discovery
XVIII Unwelcome Visitors
XIX "S.O.S." from Friday Island
XX Four Prisoners
XXI The Hostage
XXII The "Crusoe Mystery" Deepens
XXIII "Sweating" the Prisoner
XXIV "Something Happens"
XXV Bud Shoots
XXVI The Slingshot Victim
XXVII Chased out
XXVIII A Radio Eavesdropper
XXIX The End of the "Mystery"
XXX The Result of a Radio Hazing
CHAPTER I
Vacation Plans
"Now, fellows, what are we goin' to do this vacation?" demanded Cub Perry
as he leaned back in his upholstered reed rocker and hoisted his size 8
shoes onto the foot of his bedstead. "School's all over, we've all passed
our exams, and now we've got a long vacation before us with nothing to
do. It's up to yo-uns to map out a program."
"Why can't you help map it out?" asked Bud Taylor with something of a
challenge in his voice. "You always have the last word?"
"Cub's the dictator of our outfit, and we do the work, that's why,"
declared Hal Stone. "We always have to listen to him, you know that, Bud.
So what's the use o' kickin'?"
"Oh, I'm not kickin'," Bud replied. "It's no use. Cub 'u'd drown us out
with his voice if we hollered. You know you made 'im admit once that
noise was the only thing that 'u'd convince him."
"You c'n change that now and call it static instead of noise since we've
all become radio experts," smirked Cub with characteristic superiority.
"Ha, ha," laughed Bud.
"Tee-hee," tittered Hal.
By the way, it was from this peculiar manner of laugh, that Hal got his
nickname, Tee-hee. Cub's given name was Robert, shortened sometimes to
Bob and Bud's was Roy. Cub and Bud were always known by their nicknames,
but Hal was addressed as Tee-hee only on fitting or intermittent
occasions.
The three boys were seated in Cub's room at the Perry home, one of the
largest and most interesting samples of domestic architecture in the City
of Oswego, on the shore of Lake Ontario. Cub was a rich man's son, but he
was constitutionally, almost grotesquely, democratic. There was nothing
that would make him angrier, to all appearance at least, than open
reference in conversation to the wealth of his father. For such offense
he was ever ready to "take off the head" of the offender. However, once
in a while one of the bolder of his friends would beard the lion in his
den more or less successfully. But it was necessary for such venturesome
person to be ever in command of ready wit in order to emerge with a whole
skin, figuratively speaking, and Bud and Tee-hee were the real leaders of
this victorious few. That was the reason why they were chums of Cub.
The fact of the matter, to be perfectly frank, was that Cub was a good
deal of an actor. Whether he was conscious of this fact we will not
venture to say. He is the only one who knows, and we have never broached
the subject to him. The average person on first making his acquaintance
doubtless would set him down as a very domineering youth; some might even
call him a bully, but they would change their minds eventually if the
acquaintance continued. Perhaps the best way one could judge Cub, without
being Cub himself, would be to characterize him as being fond of playing
the bully just for fun. Indeed, it is quite probable that Cub carried a
perpetual laugh in his sleeve.
This dominant youth was tall and lanky. He was only 17 years old, but as
big as a man, so far as altitude and the size of his feet were concerned.
He lacked one inch of being six feet tall, and he wore size 8 shoes. The
hope for his proportion was expansion, and judging from the hereditary
history of his paternal ancestry, there was good prospect for him in this
regard. His father was a large man and well built.
To complete the description of Cub, he was a youth of very wise
countenance. He liked to read "highbrow stuff" and reflect and inflict it
on such victims as were unable to counter his domination.
Bud was a short, quick, snappy, bold fellow, "built on the ground". It
is possible that he might have upset Cub in a surprise wrestle, but
nobody ever dared to "mix" with Cub in such manner; the lanky fellow
seemed to be able to out-countenance any suggestion of physical
hostility. The glower of his face seemed to spell subjection for all the
boy world about him.
But Bud would blurt out something now and then that seemed to startle Cub
into a mood of reflection, and whenever Cub reflected his dominance
wavered. Tee-hee was able to accomplish the same effect without a
"blurt". Tee-hee was sly, "as sly as they make 'em", but it was a kind of
slyness that commands respect. It even gave an air of respectability to
his laugh, for, ordinarily, a "tee-hee" sounds silly. But Hal's "tee-hee"
was constitutional with him, and his sly shrewdness gave it real dignity.
Cub was usually the dominating factor in all the boy arguments of their
"bunch", which varied in numbers from ten to twenty, according to the
motive of interest that drew them together. He seldom started an
argument, unless his disposition to "bawl" somebody out for uttering a,
to him, foolish opinion, he regarded as a starter. He seldom spoke first,
but usually last. One day he "bawled" Tee-hee for the latter's "silly
laugh", telling him that he would never be a man unless he learned to
"laugh from his lungs".
"You seem to like a lot of noise," Hal observed.
"Yes, it's the only thing that convinces me," Cub shot back rashly.
He realized his rashness, but it was too late. Tee-hee "got" him.
"I understand you now," the sly youth announced. "Whenever we have
a dispute, the only way for me to win is to make a bigger noise
than you do."
But Cub was not slow, and he evened matters up by roaring:
"You can't do it; you ain't got the lungs."
However, there was a serious side to this trio of radio boys. They were
not known chiefly for their frivolity, which probably would have
characterized them if they had got into any bad scrapes. Their deportment
was really above reproach, so that their parents reposed a good deal of
confidence in them and allowed them to do pretty much as they wished in
the matter of their recreation and sports. On the occasion with which the
narrative opens we find them very serious minded over a very important
problem, although it seemed well nigh impossible for them, even under
such circumstances, to bar severely all manner of gaieties.
"I don't see where there's anything new for us to do this summer," said
Bud after the merriment over the "static repartee" with Cub had subsided.
"We c'n go camping or fishin', or we c'n stay at home and listen in."
"Oh, you haven't got any invention in that head o' yours, Bud," declared
Cub with tone of disgust. "Tee-hee, take your turn and see if you can't
hand us somethin'."
"Aw, why don't you furnish some brains for us, Cub," Bud objected with
spirit. "I never knew you to yet. You just razz us till we turn up the
thing all of us wants, and then you act as if you'd done all the work."
"Well, what do I pay you for?" Cub demanded, with an air of final
judgment.
Of course, Cub did not pay them anything; that was just a little evidence
of his exasperating domination. Bud saw, as usual, that there was no use
of trying to carry his protest further, so he gave way to Hal, who looked
as if eager to take his turn.
"I tell you what let's do," proposed the latter. "Let's go campin' and
take one of our radio sets with us."
Cub leaped to his feet enthusiastically, bringing his feet down on the
floor with a force that seemed to jar the whole house. Fortunately there
was a substantial rug between his descending number 8's and the floor.
"That's what I call brains, Tee-hee," he declared, reaching over and
planting a hearty slap on the author of this ingenuity. "You deserve a
bonus. The scheme is hereby adopted."
"Without consulting me?" demanded Bud with very good simulation of
hurt dignity.
"Absolutely, Bud, you fell asleep and let Tee-hee get ahead of you."
"And meanwhile, what did you do?" Bud inquired pointedly.
"I sat in judgment over your suggestions," Cub replied readily. "You
fellows needed somebody to decide what your suggestions were worth.
That's my function--get me?--my function."
"Well, I was goin' to vote for Tee-hee's idea," said Bud with slight tone
of resentment. "You might 'ave let me get my vote in."
"It wasn't needed, it wasn't needed," Cub ruled. "Two's a majority
of three."
"I'm going to vote for it anyway. I think his idea is a dandy."
"Your vote is accepted and recorded as surplus noise."
"Static, you mean," Bud suggested with modest sarcasm.
"To be up to date, yes."
"Tee-hee," laughed Tee-hee.