The Radio Boys\' First Wireless by Allen Chapman

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[Illustration: "THERE IT IS!" CRIED JOE, AS THE MUSIC SUDDENLY
BURST UPON THEIR EARS]

THE RADIO BOYS' FIRST WIRELESS

OR WINNING THE FERBERTON PRIZE

BY ALLEN CHAPMAN

FOREWORD

BY JACK BINNS

It is very appropriate at this moment when radio has taken the
country by storm, and aroused an enthusiasm never before equaled,
that the possibilities for boys in this art should be brought out
in the interesting and readable manner shown in the first book of
this series.

Radio is still a young science, and some of the most remarkable
advances in it have been contributed by amateurs--that is, by boy
experimenters. It is never too late to start in the fascinating game,
and the reward for the successful experimenter is rich both in honor
and recompense.

Just take the case of E. H. Armstrong, one of the most famous of
all the amateurs in this country. He started in as a boy at home,
in Yonkers, experimenting with home-made apparatus, and discovered
the circuit that has revolutionized radio transmission and reception.
His circuit has made it possible to broadcast music, and speech, and
it has brought him world-wide fame.

He had no elaborate laboratory in which to experiment, but he
persevered and won out. Like the Radio Boys in this story, he was
confronted with all kinds of odds, but with true American spirit
he stuck to his task and triumphed.

The attitude of the government toward the wireless amateur is well
illustrated by the expressions of Secretary of Commerce Herbert
Hoover, and is summed up in his declaration, "I am for the American
boy."

No other country in the world offers such opportunities to boy
experimenters in the radio field. The government realizes that there
is always a possibility of other important discoveries being made
by the boy experimenters, and that is the reason it encourages the
amateur.

Don't be discouraged because Edison came before you. There is still
plenty of opportunity for you to become a new Edison, and no science
offers the possibilities in this respect as does radio communication.

Jack Binns
March 30th 1922

CONTENTS

I. THE AUTO CRASH
II. TAKING CHANCES
III. WONDERS OF WIRELESS
IV. MYSTERIOUS FORCES
V. CROOKED WORK
VI. A PRACTICAL OBJECT LESSON
VII. IN THE DARK
VIII. GETTING A START
IX. WORK AND FUN
X. A STEALTHY RASCAL
XI. CLEVER THINKING
XII. FORGING AHEAD
XIII. THRASHING A BULLY
XIV. ON THE VERGE
XV. THE FINISHING TOUCH
XVI. SWEETS OF VICTORY
XVII. THE FERBERTON PRIZE
XVIII. FRIENDLY RIVALS
XIX. A SPLENDID INSPIRATION
XX. THE TIME OF THEIR LIVES
XXI. THE VOICE THAT STUTTERED
XXII. THE STOLEN SET
XXIII. BATTERING IN THE DOOR
XXIV. ON THE TRAIL
XXV. THE PRIZE

THE RADIO BOYS' FIRST WIRELESS

CHAPTER I

THE AUTO CRASH

"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.

CHAPTER II

TAKING CHANCES

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 debris 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.

CHAPTER III

WONDERS OF WIRELESS

"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.

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