The Radio Boys in the Thousand Islands | Page 3

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.
CHAPTER II
Tragedy or Joke?
The three boys discussed vacation plans along the line suggested by
Hal for half an hour, and then Cub said:
"We can't get any further on this subject to-night. It's nearly 8 o'clock;
Let's go in the radio room and listen to some opera music for a while."
He led the way into an adjoining apartment, a veritable radio laboratory.
Two years before, as a wireless amateur, Cub had built for himself in
this room an elaborate sending and receiving set, and he proved to be

one of the first, boy though he was, to appreciate the outlook for the
radiophone, even before "the craze" had gripped the country. He soon
had his father almost as much interested in the subject as himself, so
that the question of financing his latest radio ambition was no serious
obstacle. An early result of this active interest on his part was the
addition of a receiving amplification with which he could listen in to
messages from major-power stations in the remotest parts of the
country. Indeed, under favorable conditions, he had picked up
messages from as far distant points as Edinburgh, Scotland, and
Australia.
Cub sat down at the table and tuned to 360 meters. The other boys
seated themselves comfortably and waited with a kind of luxurious
contentment for the beginning of the program, which came in a few
minutes. They "sat through" the entire Westinghouse program and then
Cub began to "tune up and down" to find out what else was going on in
the air. The room for several minutes was resonant with a succession of
squeaks, squawks, whines, growls, dots-and-dashes, whistles, and
musical notes. Suddenly he gave a start that aroused the curiosity of his
friends and made them more attentive to his actions.
"Did you get that?" he shouted.
"No," replied Bud and Hal, in chorus, springing forward.
Cub was tuning excitedly back and forth about a certain, or uncertain,
wave length, which he had lost.
"Put on your 'phones," he said, putting on his own. "You may not get it
through the horn. I'm sure I got an SOS, very faint. I'm going to try to
get it again."
Bud and Hal did as directed and listened with quite as much eagerness
as that which was evident in Cub's manner. Several minutes elapsed
before the search was rewarded. Then at last, in fairly distinct, although
faint, vibrations came the distress signal again. All three heard it, and
this time Cub caught the wave "on the knob" and did not let it go.

The operator sending the distress signal was evidently pleading
desperately for attention, which nobody, it seemed, was willing to give
to him. Several times he repeated his SOS, following each repetition
with his own private call and wave length. Then he broadcast the
following message in explanation of his appeal for help:
"I am marooned on island in Lake of Thousand Isles. I landed here
from a motor boat with wireless outfit. Lake thieves stole my boat and
left me here with outfit and little food. Will starve in few days if I don't
get help. My call is V A X."
"Cracky!" exclaimed Bud excitedly. "Isn't that a thriller! He's an
amateur and in trouble. We're in honor bound to help him."
"How?" demanded Cub derisively. "What can we do here nearly two
hundred miles away from him?"
"We might get word to some police or lake patrol that'll go and take
him off," Hal suggested.
"He's a Canadian," objected Cub. "Didn't you get his Canadian call?
We'd have the time of our life getting a Government station to pay any
attention to us hams. But listen, somebody's calling him."
All three listened-in eagerly, expectantly, wonderingly. Apparently this
fellow also was