



Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net.


    [Illustration: TOM SPEEDILY GAVE THE CALL TO THE STATION AT THE
    DIXON PLACE.]




THE BOYS OF THE WIRELESS

Or

A Stirring Rescue from the Deep

BY

FRANK V. WEBSTER

AUTHOR OF "AIRSHIP ANDY," "COMRADES OF THE SADDLE,"
"BEN HARDY'S FLYING MACHINE," "BOB THE CASTAWAY," ETC.

ILLUSTRATED

NEW YORK
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
PUBLISHERS




BOOKS FOR BOYS

By FRANK V. WEBSTER

12mo. Cloth. Illustrated.

ONLY A FARM BOY
TOM, THE TELEPHONE BOY
THE BOY FROM THE RANCH
THE YOUNG TREASURE HUNTER
BOB, THE CASTAWAY
THE YOUNG FIREMEN OF LAKEVILLE
THE NEWSBOY PARTNERS
THE BOY PILOT OF THE LAKES
THE TWO BOY GOLD MINERS
JACK, THE RUNAWAY
COMRADES OF THE SADDLE
THE BOYS OF BELLWOOD SCHOOL
THE HIGH SCHOOL RIVALS
BOB CHESTER'S GRIT
AIRSHIP ANDY
DARRY, THE LIFE SAVER
DICK, THE BANK BOY
BEN HARDY'S FLYING MACHINE
THE BOYS OF THE WIRELESS
HARRY WATSON'S HIGH SCHOOL DAYS

Cupples & Leon Co., Publishers, New York




Copyright, 1912, by
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
THE BOYS OF THE WIRELESS




Contents


  - CHAPTER I--TOM BARNES' WIRELESS
  - CHAPTER II--STATION Z
  - CHAPTER III--"SPOOKS!"
  - CHAPTER IV--"DONNER"
  - CHAPTER V--A BOY WITH A MYSTERY
  - CHAPTER VI--A TIP VIA WIRELESS
  - CHAPTER VII--GRACE MORGAN
  - CHAPTER VIII--QUICK ACTION
  - CHAPTER IX--STRICTLY BUSINESS
  - CHAPTER X--A YOUNG CAPITALIST
  - CHAPTER XI--A GREAT STEP FORWARD
  - CHAPTER XII--"SUN, MOON AND STARS"
  - CHAPTER XIII--THE BLACK CAPS
  - CHAPTER XIV--TURNING THE TABLES
  - CHAPTER XV--AN UNEXPECTED RESCUER
  - CHAPTER XVI--KIDNAPPED
  - CHAPTER XVII--UP TO MISCHIEF
  - CHAPTER XVIII--THE TOY BALLOONS
  - CHAPTER XIX--A STARTLING MESSAGE
  - CHAPTER XX--THE LAUNCH
  - CHAPTER XXI--BRAVING THE STORM
  - CHAPTER XXII--THE RESCUE
  - CHAPTER XXIII--"EVERY INCH A MAN"
  - CHAPTER XXIV--THE KIDNAPPED BOY
  - CHAPTER XXV--TOM ON THE TRAIL--CONCLUSION




THE BOYS OF THE WIRELESS




CHAPTER I--TOM BARNES' WIRELESS


"What's that new-fangled thing on the blasted oak, Tom?"

"That, Ben, is a wireless."

"Oh, you don't say so!"

"Or, rather the start of one."

"Say, you aren't original or ambitious or anything like that, are you?"

The speaker, Ben Dixon, bestowed a look of admiration and interest on
the chum he liked best of all in the world, Tom Barnes.

Tom was reckoned a genius in the little community in which he lived. He
had the record of "always being up to something." In the present
instance he had been up a tree, it seemed. From "the new-fangled thing"
Ben had discovered in passing the familiar landmark, the blasted oak,
wires and rods ran up to quite a height, showing that some one had done
some climbing.

Ben became instantly absorbed in an inspection of the contrivance before
him. He himself had some mechanical talent. His father had been an
inventor in a small way, and anything in which Tom had a part always
attracted him.

"Tell me about it. What's that thing up there?" asked Ben, pointing
directly at some metal rods attached to the broken-off top of the tree.

"Those are antennae."

"Looks like an--twenty!" chuckled Ben over his own joke. "There's a
whole network of them, isn't there?"

"They run down to a relay, Ben, catching the electric waves striking the
decoherer, which taps the coherer and disarranges a lot of brass filings
by mechanical vibration. That's the whole essence of the
wireless--otherwise it is no different from common telegraphy--a group
of parts each for individual service in transmitting or receiving the
electric waves."

"Thank you!" observed Ben drily. "How delightfully plain that all is!
You rattle those scientific terms off good and spry, though."

"So will you, as soon as you do what I've been doing," asserted Tom.

"And what's that?"

"Getting a glance at the real wireless outfit Mr. Edson is operating
down at Sandy Point."

"I heard of that," nodded Ben.

"He's a fine man," said Tom enthusiastically. "He's taken all kinds of
trouble to post me and explain things I wanted to know. This little side
show of mine is just an experiment on a small scale. I don't expect any
grand results. It will work out the principle, though, and when I get to
taking messages----"

"What! you don't mean to say you can do that?"

"Just that, Ben," declared Tom confidently.

"From where?"

"Well, mostly from Mr. Edson's station at Sandy Point, and maybe some
stray ones that may slip past him."

"Say!" cried Ben, on fire at once with emulation and optimism, "what's
the matter with me starting a station, too, down at my house? Then we
could have all kinds of fun over our line."

"It isn't much work nor expense," said Tom. "You can get an outfit cheap
for a home-made apparatus--you need some coarse and fine wire for the
main coil, a glass tube, a bell, sounder and a buzzer, some
electromagnets----"

"I see," interrupted Ben with a mock groan, "just a few things picked up
anywhere. Oh, yes!"

"You won't be discouraged once you get interested, Ben," assured Tom.
"We'll talk about your starting a station later. Just now you can help
me quite a bit if you want to."

"Sure!" returned the enterprising Ben with vim.

"All right; I want to string a coil of new wire I got yesterday,"
explained Tom, going around to the other side of the tree. "Why, it's
gone!" he cried.

"What's gone?" queried Ben.

"The wire. Now, isn't that a shame!" cried Tom indignantly, fussing
around among the grass and bushes. "That coil couldn't have walked away.
Some one must have stolen it."

"Don't be too hasty, Tom. Some one passing by may have picked it up. You
know the fellows are playing ball over in the meadow just beyond here.
Some of them may have cut across and stumbled over your wire."

"Couldn't they see that I was putting up a station here?" demanded Tom
with asperity.

"Station?" repeated Ben with a jolly laugh. "See here, old fellow, you
forget that we scientific numbskulls wouldn't know your contrivance here
from a clothes dryer."

"Well, come on, anyway. I've got to find that wire," said Tom with
determination.

In the distance they could hear the shouts of boys at play, and passing
through some brushwood they came to the edge of the open meadow lining
the river.

Half a dozen boys were engaged in various pastimes. Two of them playing
at catch greeted Tom with enthusiasm.

There was no boy at Rockley Cove more popular than Tom Barnes. His
father had farmed it, as the saying goes, at the edge of the little
village for over a quarter of a century. While Mr. Barnes was not
exactly a wealthy man he made a good living, and Tom dressed pretty
well, and was kept at school right along. Now it was vacation time, and
outside of a few chores about the house morning and evening Tom's time
was his own.

The result was that usually Tom had abundant leisure for sports. The
welcome with which his advent was hailed therefore, was quite natural.

"I say, Tom," suddenly spoke Ben, seizing the arm of his companion in
some excitement, "there's Mart Walters."

"Ah, he's here, is he?" exclaimed Tom, and started rapidly across the
meadow to where a crowd of boys were grouped about a diving plank
running out over the stream. "I'm bothered about that missing coil, but
I guess I can take time to attend to Walters."

The boy he alluded to was talking to several companions as Tom and Ben
came up. His back was to the newcomers and he did not see them approach.
Mart Walters was a <DW2> and a braggart. Tom noticed that he was arrayed
in his best, and his first overheard words announced that he was
bragging as usual.

Mart was explaining to a credulous audience some of the wonderful feats
in diving and swimming he had engaged in during a recent stay in Boston.
With a good deal of boastful pride he alluded to a friend, Bert Aldrich,
whose father was a part owner of a big city natatorium. Tom interrupted
his bombast unceremoniously by suddenly appearing directly in front of
the boaster.

"Hello, Mart Walters," he hailed in a sort