The Radio Boys' First Wireless Or Winning the Pemberton Prize

"How about it, Joe?" asked Bob Layton of his chum, Joe Atwood, as they came out of school one afternoon, swinging their books by straps over their shoulders. "Going up to Dr. Dale's house to-night?"

"You bet I am," replied Joe enthusiastically. "I wouldn't miss it for a farm. I'm keen to know more about this wireless business, and I'm sure the doctor can tell us more about it than any one else."

"He sure does get a fellow interested," agreed Bob. "He isn't a bit preachy about it, either. Just talks to you in words you can understand. But all the time you know he's got a lot back of it and could tell you ten times as much about it if you asked him. Makes you feel safe when you listen to him. Not a bit of guesswork or anything like that."

"What are you fellows chinning about?" asked Jimmy Plummer, one of their schoolmates, who came up to them at that moment. "You seem all worked up about something."

"It's about that talk Dr. Dale is going to give us to-night on the wireless telephone," answered Bob, as he edged over a little to give Jimmy room to walk beside them. "You're going, aren't you? The doctor said he wanted all the boys to come who could."

"Do you suppose there'll be any eats?" asked Jimmy, who was round and fat, and who went by the nickname of "Doughnuts" among his mates because of his fondness for that special delicacy.

"Always thinking of that precious stomach of yours!" laughed Bob. "Jimmy, I'm ashamed of you. You're getting so fat now that pretty soon you won't have to walk to school. You can just roll there like a barrel."

"You string beans are only jealous because I get more fun out of eating than you do," declared Jimmy, with a grin. "But eats or no eats, I'm going to hear what the doctor has to say. I got a letter the other day from a cousin of mine out in Michigan, and he told me all about a set that he'd made and put up himself. Said he was just crazy about it. Wanted me to go into it so that he and I might talk together. Of course, though, I guess he was just kidding me about that. Michigan's a long way off, and it takes more than a day to get there on a train."

"Distance doesn't make much difference," declared Bob. "Already they've talked across the Atlantic Ocean."

"Not amateurs?" objected Joe incredulously.

"Yes, even amateurs," affirmed Bob. "My dad was reading in the papers the other night about a man in New Jersey who was talking to a friend near by and told him that he was going to play a phonograph record for him. A man over in Scotland, over three thousand miles away, heard every word he said and heard the music of the phonograph too. A ship two thousand miles out on the Atlantic heard the same record, and so did another ship in a harbor in Central America. Of course, the paper said, that was only a freak, and amateur sets couldn't do that once in a million times. But it did it that time, all right. I tell you, fellows, that wireless telephone is a wonder. Talk about the stories of the Arabian Nights! They aren't in it."

There was a loud guffaw behind the lads, accompanied by snickers, and the friends turned around to see three boys following them.

One of them, who was apparently the leader of the trio, was a big, unwieldy boy of sixteen, a year older and considerably larger than Bob and Joe. His eyes were close together, and he had a look of coarseness and arrogance that denoted the bully. Buck Looker, as he was called-his first name was Buckley-was generally unpopular among the boys, but as he was the son of one of the richest men of the town he usually had one or two cronies who hung about him for what they could get. One of these, Carl Lutz, an unwholesome looking boy, somewhat younger than Buck, was walking beside him, and on the side nearer the curb was Terry Mooney, the youngest of the three, a boy whose, furtive eyes carried in them a suggestion of treachery and sneakiness.

"What's the joke, Buck?" asked Bob coldly, as he looked from one to the other of the sniggering faces.

"You're the joke," answered Buck insolently; "that is, if you believe all that stuff I heard you pulling off just now. You must be easy if you fall for that."

"I wasn't talking to you," replied Bob, restraining himself with some difficulty. "But since you've butted in, perhaps you'll tell me just what it is that's so funny about the wireless telephone."

"The whole thing is bunk, if you ask me," replied Buck with the confidence that so often goes with ignorance. "Telephoning without wires! You might as well talk of walking without legs."

This argument seemed to him so overpowering that he swelled out his chest and looked triumphantly at his two companions, whose faces instantly took on the same expression.

"You made a ten strike that time, Buck," declared Lutz, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Hit the target right in the bull's-eye," chimed in Terry, with a smirk.

Bob and Joe and Jimmy looked at each other, and, despite their resentment, had all they could do to keep from breaking into laughter.

Buck noticed their amused expression, and his coarse face grew red and mottled.

"Well," he demanded, "what have you got to say to that? Am I right or ain't I?"

"You're wrong," replied Joe promptly. "Dead wrong. You're so far from the truth that you couldn't see it with a telescope. You're talking like a ham sandwich."

"Look out what you're saying, Joe Atwood, or I'll make you sorry for it," threatened Buck, as he clinched his fist, an ugly look coming into his eyes.

"I apologize," said Joe. "That is, I apologize to the ham sandwich."

Bob laid a restraining hand on his friend's arm.

"Easy, Joe," he counseled. "Listen, Buck," he went on. "Did you ever hear of Marconi?"

"Sure, I did," replied Buck. "He's the fellow that had the fight with Julius Caesar. The one that Cleopatra was dippy about."

"No," said Bob patiently. "You're thinking of Mark Antony. He's been dead for more than eighteen hundred years. The man I mean is a very live one. He's the inventor of wireless telegraphy."

"Never heard of him," muttered Buck sullenly.

"Well, since you never heard of him, we'll mention some one else," continued Bob. "I was only going to say that he's a pretty brainy fellow, and he believes in the wireless telephone. Then there's Edison. Perhaps you've heard of him?"

"Of course I have," blurted Buck furiously. "Say, what are you trying to do? Make a fool of me?"

"Nature's done that already," Joe put in, but Bob checked him.

"I'm simply trying to show," Bob explained, "that if we're 'easy,' as you call it, in 'falling for that stuff,' there are a lot of able men in the United States who are in the same boat with us. In fact there isn't a man of brains and education in the country who doesn't believe in it."

"Do you mean to say that I haven't any brains?" cried Buck in a fury.

"Not exactly that," replied Bob. "But perhaps you don't use what brains you have. That happens sometimes, you know."

"I guess a fellow's got a right to his own opinions," blustered Carl

Lutz, coming to the rescue of his discomfited leader.

"Of course he has," retorted Joe. "But when it's that kind of opinion he ought to put on the soft pedal. Any one has a right to have a club foot or a hunched back or cross eyes, but he doesn't usually go round boasting of them."

"You're a wise bunch, I'll tell the world," sneered Buck in lieu of a more stinging retort.

"Not at all," replied Joe. "It's you that claim to be wiser than Edison and the rest of them. But you mustn't think because you have water on the brain that you're the whole ocean."

The air was full of electricity and matters were tense between the two groups when a diversion came in the form of a halloo from the other side of the street, and Herb Fennington, a special friend of Bob and Joe, came running over to greet them. They stopped for a moment, and Buck and his cronies passed on, favoring Bob, Joe and Jimmy with malignant scowls as they did so.

"Hello, Herb!" called Bob, as the latter came up to them, a little breathless from running.

"Hello, fellows!" returned Herb, as he looked after Buck and his companions. "What's up with Buck and his gang? Looked as if there was going to be a fight about something."

"Not so bad as that, I guess," replied Bob, with a laugh, "though

Buck did look as though he'd like to take a swing at us."

"I only wish he had," grunted Joe. "That fellow certainly gets me mad, and I wouldn't mind at all having some excuse for pitching into him."

"What was it all about?" asked Herb, with lively curiosity.

"He heard us talking about the wireless telephone and butted in," explained Bob. "Practically told us we were fools for believing that there is such a thing."

Herb laughed outright.

"Sounds like Buck," he commented. "What he doesn't know would fill a book."

"A whole library you mean," corrected Joe.

"A library then," agreed Herb, as the boys resumed their walk, which had now brought them close to the business part of the town. "But say, fellows, forget about Buck and listen to this. It's a good one that I heard yesterday. Why is-"

He was interrupted by a shout from Bob.

"Look," he cried, "look at that auto! It's running wild!"

Their startled eyes followed the direction of Bob's pointing finger.

An automobile was describing curious antics in the middle of the street. It made short dashes here and there, hesitated, zigzagged. Then it turned suddenly toward the curb, dashed on the sidewalk and amid a crash of broken glass plunged through the plate glass windows of a store.

There was a moment of stupefaction on the part of the boys at the suddenness of what promised to be a tragedy. Then in a flash they came to life.

"There was a girl in that auto!" cried Bob, as he dashed toward the store, the others following close on his heels. "Hurry up, fellows. She may be badly hurt."

"More likely killed," muttered Joe. "Don't see how any one could live through that."

The store through whose windows the car had dashed was the largest paint and hardware store in the town. The crash had resounded far and near, and people were rushing toward it from all directions. The boys reached the place first, however. They opened the door and raced in, only to be greeted with a heavy volume of smoke, through which flickered tongues of fire.

In the midst of a mass of débris was standing the wrecked auto. The gasoline tank had been smashed by the impact, and the contents, luckily a small amount, had been scattered over the place and come in contact with a stove. The flames had spread to a large part of the paints and oils and other inflammable materials that the store contained. One of the clerks in the place had been hit and stunned by the car, while two others, together with the proprietor and a customer, were making desperate attempts to beat out the flames.

Bob's quick eye caught sight of a case of hand grenades standing near the entrance, and his qualities of leadership came into play at once.

"Grab those grenades, you, Herb, and, you, Jimmy," he cried, "and throw them where they're most needed. Come with me, Joe, and get that girl out of the car. Quick!"

In a twinkling, Herb and Jimmy were hurling the grenades at the points where the fire seemed to have gained most headway, while Bob and Joe worked their way over the mass of boxes and wrecked fixtures to the place where the runaway automobile had ended its mad rush.

The plate glass windows had reached almost to the ground, so that the automobile with its great momentum had easily surmounted the sills and reached nearly the middle of the store. One wheel had been torn off, the windshield was shattered into fragments, and the front of the machine had been crushed in.

In the driver's seat, still with her hand on the wheel, was the figure of a girl. No sound came from her, and from the way her body drooped forward, limp and motionless, it was evident that she was either unconscious or dead. The boys feared the worst, especially when they saw a stream of blood trickling down from a wound near her temple.

They worked at top speed, trying to reach her and draw her out from the driver's seat. But the bent and tangled mass of wreckage held her captive, and it was only after other willing hands had come to their assistance that they were able to lift her from the car.

They bore her to a point just outside the door, and laid her on some boxes that were hurriedly placed side by side. Her eyes were closed and she was deadly pale, the whiteness of her face being accentuated by the blood that dripped from her wound. She was a young girl, apparently no more than twenty, and was quietly though tastefully dressed. It was evident that she still breathed, and a slight fluttering of the eyelids indicated that she was returning to consciousness. Directly across the street was the Sterling House, named after its proprietor, and Mrs. Sterling, a motherly looking woman, who was among those who crowded around to look and help, recognized the girl at once.

"Why, she's one of our guests!" she exclaimed. "Her name is Berwick-Miss Nellie Berwick-and she's been staying with us for the last three days. Some of you bring her across to her room, and some one else hurry and get a doctor. Oh, there's Dr. Ellis now!" she exclaimed with great relief, as she descried a tall figure in the crowd hurrying to the side of the injured girl.

Under the doctor's directions, Bob and Joe, assisted by two others, lifted the girl and carried her across to the hotel. And while they are engaged in this work of helpfulness, it may be well for a better understanding of our story to sketch briefly the careers of Bob and Joe and their friends and the surroundings in which they had been brought up.

Bob Layton was the son of Henry Layton, the leading druggist and chemist of the town. Bob had been born and brought up in Clintonia, which was a thriving town of about ten thousand inhabitants in an Eastern state, about seventy-five miles from New York City. It was located on the Shagary river, a stream that afforded abundant opportunities for boating, fishing, and swimming, and was a source of endless pastime and recreation for the boys.

Bob, at the time this story opens, was fifteen years old, of rather dark complexion, and was tall and well-developed for his age. He was vigorous and athletic and a lover of outdoor sports. His magnetism and vitality made him a "live wire," and he was the natural leader among the boys with whom he associated. His nature was frank and friendly, and he was extremely popular with all those who were worth while. With that he had a quick temper, which he had learned, however, to keep under control. He never looked for trouble, but at the same time he never side-stepped it, and any one who tried to bulldoze and impose on him speedily found that he had picked out the wrong person.

Joe Atwood, Bob's special chum, was a boy of about the same age and was the son of Dr. Atwood, a prominent and respected physician of the town. Between him and Bob a warm friendship existed, and where one was found the other was certain to be not very far off. He had a fair complexion with merry blue eyes, that, however, could flash fire on occasion. As has already been seen in his interchanges with Buck Looker, he had a "quick trigger" tongue, and was likely to say a thing first and regret it afterward, because he had gone perhaps too far. Bob, as the more self controlled of the chums, served as a sort of check on the impulsiveness of his friend, and had many times kept him out of trouble. Joe shared Bob's fondness for athletic sports, and, like him, was a leading spirit in the baseball and football teams of the town.

Another thing that drew the boys together was their keen interest in anything pertaining to science. Each had marked mechanical ability, and would at any time rather put a contrivance together by their own efforts than to have it bought for them ready made. It was this quality that had made them enthusiastic regarding the wonders of the wireless telephone.

Herbert Fennington was a year younger than the others and the son of one of the principal merchants of Clintonia. He was lively, full of fun and jokes and an all-around "good fellow."

Jimmy Plummer was fourteen, round, fat, lazy, and good-natured, and a great lover of the good things of life. His father was a carpenter, thrifty, respected and a good citizen.

As the boys all lived on West Main Street, a pleasant, shaded street about a quarter of a mile from the business center of the town, and within a few doors of each other, they were naturally thrown much together both in the daytime and when in the evenings they foregathered at each other's homes to study together the lessons for the next day or to indulge in a few hours of fun and recreation.

The boys reached the hotel with their helpless burden and carried the girl upstairs to her room, where Mrs. Sterling had everything in readiness for her reception. Then the doctor took her in hand and the boys withdrew to the lobby of the hotel, where they planned to wait for a few minutes until the results of the doctor's examination could become known.

Now for the first time since the excitement began they had time to think of themselves, and when they looked at each other they could hardly forbear from laughing outright at the picture they presented. They were begrimed with smoke and grease, their clothes were rumpled and soiled, and Bob's sleeve had been split from shoulder to elbow, where it had been caught by a jagged strip of the material of the wrecked car.

"You look like a stoker from the hold of an ocean steamer," gibed

Joe, as he looked at the unkempt figure of his friend.

"It's dollars to doughnuts that you look just as bad," responded Bob, with a grin, as he made a break for the washroom, followed by his chum. In the work of washing themselves, they found that it was not only their clothes and appearance that had suffered. Each had a number of scratches and blisters that they had not felt during the stirring period of rescue but that now made their presence known. But these, after all, were trifles, and they took them as simply a part of the day's work.

They had only a few minutes to wait before the tall figure of the doctor emerged from the sick room and descended the stairs. The expression on his face reassured them, as they hurried forward to hear his verdict.

"There's no danger," he declared, as soon as he came within speaking distance, "though how she got off as easily as she did is almost a miracle. The crushed front and top of the machine acted as a sort of protection for her. The cut on the side of the face must have been made by a splinter of flying glass from the windshield. What she is suffering principally from is shock, and that's no wonder. Even one of you rough and ready youngsters," he added with a smile, "would find it a shock to go flying through a plate glass window."

"Sure thing," said Bob in reply. "I'm mighty glad to know that things aren't any worse with her. I didn't think when we rushed in that we'd find her alive at all."

"You boys deserve great credit for the quickness and decision with which you acted," the doctor said gravely. "The fire might have reached her in a few seconds more. I'm told that the auto caught fire just after you got her out.

"By the way," he added, as he started to leave the hotel, "she has been told of the way you rescued her, and she is very grateful. She wanted me to let you come in so that she could thank you in person, but in her present weakened state I didn't think it advisable. I told her, though, that I would speak to you about it, and that if you so desired you could call on her tomorrow."

"We'll be glad to," answered Bob, and Joe nodded his assent as the doctor with a wave of the hand went down the steps.

The boys followed him a moment later and went across the street to view the scene of the wreck. The fire had been put out, and the local fire company, which had been summoned to the scene, was rolling up the hose and getting ready to depart. The proprietor and clerks of the store, with the aid of volunteers, had drawn the wreck of the partly burned automobile from the store, and it stood in the street, a melancholy ruin. It was clear that as an auto its day of usefulness was over.

A large crowd still lingered about the spot, discussing the accident, which by its unique features had thoroughly stirred up the town. It was not often that an auto took a flying leap into a store and the story of why and how it happened was sure to furnish a topic of discussion for many days to come.

Bob and Joe, as two of the principal figures in the event, were surrounded at once and besieged with questions. Many were the commendations also that were showered upon them for their courage and presence of mind.

"Oh, that wasn't much," protested Bob. "We just happened to be close at hand when the auto went crazy. Anybody else would have done the same."

"Of course they would," broke in Buck Looker, who with his cronies was standing close by. "People are making an awful fuss about a little thing, it seems to me. How about the work we did in helping to put out the fire?"

"Did you?" asked Jimmy Plummer. "That's news to me. Look at your hands and clothes. They haven't got a mark on them. I saw you standing around outside, and you didn't lift a finger."

"You keep your mouth shut or I'll shut it for you," cried Buck angrily. "You're getting altogether too fresh."

Jimmy was about to retort, but just then there came an interruption.

"How are you, boys?" asked a pleasant voice, and the lads looked up to see Dr. Amory Dale, the pastor of the "Old First Church" of Clintonia, standing beside them.

Most of them responded cordially, for they liked and respected him. There was no stiffness or professionalism about him to make them feel that they were being held at a distance. He was comparatively young, somewhere in the early thirties, and had the frame and bearing of an athlete. There were rumors that he had been a star pitcher on his college baseball nine and a quarterback on a football eleven whose exploits were still cherished in the memory of his institution. He was a lover of the out-of-doors and there was a breeziness and vitality that radiated from him and made him welcome wherever he went. He kept in touch with modern science, and it was said that he would have embraced a scientific career if he had not felt it his duty to enter the pulpit.

"You boys seem to have had a strenuous time of it," he said, as he looked with an amused smile at the torn and soiled clothes of Bob and Joe as well as the scratches and blisters that marked them. "I hear that you covered yourself with glory. Tell me more about it."

They went into all the details they knew, passing over as rapidly as possible their own part in the affair, and Dr. Dale listened attentively.

"Good work," he commented. "The occasion came and you were equal to it, and that's all that can be asked of anybody. I think I'll step over to the Sterling House now and see if I can be of any help to the poor girl who has had such a trying experience. By the way, boys, I hope you won't forget about that wireless talk up at my house to-night. I'm looking for you all to come if possible, and I'll do my best to see that you have a good time."

"We're sure of that," replied Bob, with a smile. "And we haven't been thinking of much else since you first asked us to come. In fact, we were talking about it just before the accident."

"That's good," replied the doctor. "You coming too, Buckley?" he asked, turning to Buck, who with his cronies was standing grouchily a little apart from the others.

Buck stammered something which could be hardly understood, but which was interpreted by the doctor as a negative. The minister did not press the matter, but with a pleasant wave of the hand that included them all he went across the street.

"He's a brick, isn't he?" remarked Bob, as he looked after him.

"You bet he is," agreed Joe emphatically.

"All wool and a yard wide," was Herb's tribute, as the boys, having gathered up their books, which in the excitement had been thrown wherever they happened to fall, resumed their walk toward their homes, leaving Buck and his mates glowering after them.

There was no lack of animated conversation around their supper tables that night. Bob's parents made no secret of the fact that they were proud of their son's part in the day's work. Joe, too, found himself made much of in the family circle, not only by his father and mother, but by his sister Rose, who hovered about him forestalling his wants and showing him a deference that would have been highly flattering if it had not been also somewhat embarrassing. Rose, a year or so younger than Joe, was all aflutter with the romantic possibilities of the affair. A young girl in distress! Joe to the rescue! What could be more interesting?

"Was she pretty, Joe?" she asked.

"Blest if I know," her brother answered briefly. "Pass me some more of that roast veal, Sis. It goes right to the spot."

With a sigh, Rose complied. Joe was so practical!

Herb and Jimmy came in for a modified share of applause because of the help they had rendered by their prompt and efficient handling of the fire grenades, which had held the flames under control until the fire department could get to the place and complete the job.

The minister's house adjoined the big stone church, which was on West Main Street and divided the business from the residential part of the street. It was a roomy, capacious structure, and at about eight o'clock that night it became a place of pilgrimage for a large number of the boys of the town. Buck Looker and his cronies were conspicuous by their absence, but this was a relief rather than a privation.

Bob and his friends were among the first comers. They were warmly greeted by Dr. Dale and ushered into the large living room of the parsonage. The portières had been drawn back between the front and back rooms so that nearly the whole ground floor was thrown into one big room. Extra chairs had been brought in so that there were accommodations for a large number. There were no grown people in the gathering, for the doctor had especially confined his invitation to the boys, who, he knew, would feel more at ease in the absence of their elders.

"There's Talley's wagon," remarked Jimmy, as he noted the presence at the curb of a vehicle bearing the name of the leading caterer of the town. "I'll bet we're going to have some eats."

"And you've just come from the supper table!" exclaimed Bob.

"He's like a trolley car," chaffed Joe. "You can always crowd more into it."

"Don't you know the doctor's going to give you a feast of reason?" asked Herb with mock gravity.

"Reason's all right," admitted Jimmy, "but there isn't much nourishment in it."

"How about a flow of soul?" asked Bob.

"Nothing against it," Jimmy answered, "but a flow of lemonade has its good points too."

From the time the boys entered the room their eyes were fixed on a box-like contrivance that was placed on a table close up against the wall of the further room. It had a number of polished knobs and dials and several groups of wires that seemed to lead in or out of the instrument. Connected with it was a horn such as was common enough in the early days of the phonograph. There were also several pairs of what looked like telephone ear pieces lying on the table.

They eyed it with intense curiosity, not unmixed with awe. They had already heard and read enough of the wireless telephone to realize that it was one of the greatest marvels of modern times. It seemed almost like something magical, something which, like the lamp of Aladdin, could summon genii who would be obedient to the call.

The rooms were comfortably filled when Dr. Dale, with a genial smile, rose and took up his stand near the table.

"Now, boys," he said, "I've asked you to come here to-night so that we can talk together and get a little better idea of some of the wonders of the world we are living in. One of those wonders and perhaps the most wonderful of all is the wireless telephone," and here he laid his hand on the box beside him. "Most of you have heard of it and want to learn more about it. I'm going to try to explain it to you just as simply as I possibly can. And I'm not going to do all the talking either, for I want you to feel free to ask any questions you like. And before I do any talking worth mentioning, I'm going to give you a little idea of what the wireless telephone can do."

The boys watched him breathlessly as he handled two of the knobs at the side of the box. A moment later they heard the clear, vibrant notes of a violin playing a beautiful selection from one of the operas. The music rose and swelled in wonderful sweetness until it filled the room, with the delicious melody and held all the hearers entranced under its spell. It was evident that only the hand of a master could draw such exquisite music from the instrument.

The doctor waited until the last notes had died away, and smiled with gratification as he saw the rapt look on the faces of his visitors.

"Sounds as if it were in the next room, doesn't it?" he asked.

"But that music came from Newark, New Jersey."

"Gee," whispered Jimmy to Bob, alongside whom he was sitting, "that's nearly a hundred miles from here."

"But there's no need of confining ourselves to any place as near as that," continued the doctor. "What do you say to listening in on Pittsburg? That's only a trifle of four hundred miles or so from here."

"He calls four hundred miles a trifle!" breathed Jimmy. "Pinch me, somebody. I must be dreaming."

Joe on his other side pinched him so sharply that Jimmy almost jumped from his chair.

"Lay off there," he murmured indignantly.

"S-sh," cautioned Bob, for by this time the doctor had made another adjustment.

Then into the room burst the stirring strains of the "Stars and Stripes Forever" played by a band that had a national reputation. The rhythm and dash and fire of the performance were such that the boys had all they could do to keep their seats, and, as it was, their feet half unconsciously beat time to the music.

"Hit you hard, did it?" smiled Dr. Dale, who, to tell the truth, had been keeping time himself. "Well, I don't wonder. I'd hate to see the time when music like that wouldn't shake you up. But now we'll go a few hundred miles farther and see what Detroit has to give us."

Jimmy was past speech by this time and could only look at his comrades in helpless wonder. Then the twang of a banjo sounded through the rooms and to the thrumming of the strings came a voice in rich negro dialect

"It rained all night the day I left,

The next day it was dry,

The sun so hot I froze to death

Susanna, don't you cry."