The Radio Boys at the Sending Station Part 2

"Pull harder," he cried, himself setting the example. "Harder yet. Put all you've got into each stroke. Harder! Harder!"

It seemed as though their hearts were being pulled out of their bodies, but they summoned up all their strength for a final spurt that carried them into the floating debris of the boat.

"Easy now," cried Bob, as he s.h.i.+pped his oar. "You, Herb and Jimmy, just row enough to keep her head on. Joe, give me a hand."

He reached out and caught the arm of the lad who was supporting the girl.

While Bob held him fast, Joe reached over, took his helpless burden from his arms, and lifted her into the boat. That done, they reached over and helped the nearly exhausted youths into the boat with what aid they themselves were able to render. They were too used up to talk, but their eyes showed their grat.i.tude.

"Well, that's that!" exclaimed Bob, heaving a sigh of heartfelt relief, as he again took up his oar. "Now, fellows, it's us for the sh.o.r.e as soon as we can get there. These people are all in and need first aid, especially the girl. Let's go."

With tired arms and bodies but vastly lighter hearts, they bent to the oars.

And while they are speeding over the waves with their burden, it may be well, for the benefit of those who have not read the previous volumes of this series, to tell who the radio boys were and what had been their adventures up to the time this story opens.

Bob Layton was the son of a prosperous chemist living in the town of Clintonia, a thriving community of about ten thousand population, situated on the s.h.a.gary River in an Eastern state, about seventy-five miles from New York. Bob had been born and brought up there, and was a general favorite with the people of the town, especially the boys of his own age, because of his sunny nature and frank, straightforward character. He was a natural leader in all wholesome sports and a crack player on the school baseball and football teams.

His special chum was Joe Atwood, a boy of about his own age and the son of a leading doctor of the town. While both were tall, Joe was of a fair complexion while Bob was dark, and the dissimilarity extended to other things than mere appearance. Joe was impulsive and quick-tempered, and apt to act on the spur of the moment, while Bob, although never s.h.i.+rking trouble or a fight if it came his way, was more self-controlled. But their points of likeness were more numerous than their points of difference, and they were the warmest of friends. Where one was to be found the other was usually not far off.

Closely a.s.sociated with them were Herb Fennington and Jimmy Plummer, slightly younger but nearly enough of an age to be good comrades. Jimmy was round and fat and fond of good living, a trait which had earned him the nickname of "Doughnuts." Herb was rather easy-going and fond of telling jokes, of which he always had a stock in store.

In one way or another the four friends frequently came into conflict with Buck Looker, the bully of the town, and his two boon companions, Carl Lutz and Terry Mooney, who were of the same stripe, though they deferred to Buck as their leader.

Ever since the wonderful new science of radio had come into such worldwide prominence, Bob and his friends had been intensely interested in it. That interest had been fostered by the stimulating advice and information given them by Dr. Amory Dale, the pastor of the old First Church of Clintonia. How they had made their own receiving sets in compet.i.tion for the prize offered by the member of Congress for their district; the difficulties they surmounted and the triumphs they achieved; how Buck and his gang sought to wreck and steal their sets and the thras.h.i.+ng Buck received in consequence; how by the agency of the radio they were able to detect a swindler, one, Dan Ca.s.sey, and force him to make rest.i.tution to Nellie Berwick, an orphan girl he had tried to cheat; all this and many more exciting adventures are told in the first book of this series, ent.i.tled: "The Radio Boys' First Wireless; Or, Winning the Ferberton Prize."

The winning of the prizes, the first by Bob and the second by Joe, with honorable mention for Jimmy, was a spur to fresh efforts in mastering the wonders of radio. This they carried out at Ocean Point, a seash.o.r.e resort, at which they spent their vacation. How they advanced to the use of the vacuum tube receiving set from their first crystal set; their experiences in the wireless room of a seash.o.r.e station; their narrow escape from death on the night of a roaring gale; how, under the stress of need, they were able to send a message to the s.h.i.+p on which relatives and friends were voyaging and bring other s.h.i.+ps to their aid; how they tracked down and captured the rascal Ca.s.sey after he had a.s.saulted and robbed their friend Brandon Harvey, the wireless operator; these things are narrated in the second volume of this series ent.i.tled: "The Radio Boys at Ocean Point; Or, The Message That Saved the s.h.i.+p."

With the radio boys pulling hard at the oars, it was only a matter of a few minutes before they had made their way through the breakers and reached the sh.o.r.e. There they jumped out and shoved the rowboat up on the beach.

The youths whom they had rescued and who seemed only little older than themselves had by this time partially recovered from their exhaustion and were able to get out themselves, although they were very shaky on their legs. The girl had regained consciousness, but was not able to walk, and the boys debated just what they should do.

Quite a crowd that had watched the rescue from the beach were on hand to greet and congratulate them and offers of help were plentiful. But Dr.

Atwood, Joe's father, who had taken a day off from his extensive practice to spend it with his family at the Point, solved the problem.

"Bring the girl up to my cottage," he directed. "I'll give her the necessary treatment and then Mrs. Atwood can take charge of her until she's sufficiently recovered to be taken home. I'll give you boys something too that will counteract the effects of the shock and strain you've been under, and you'll be all right in a little while."

The boys picked up the girl and carried her to the Atwood cottage that was only a little distance away. Rose Atwood together with Agnes and Amy Fennington, who had come over and were all interest and attention, recognized her as Mary Rockwell, a girl whom they had met at the dance which the radio boys had given, getting the music over the radio set from a broadcasting station. Together with Mrs. Atwood, they gave her all possible care after the doctor had given her a sedative, and word was sent over to her people a.s.suring them of her safety.

In the meanwhile the rescued lads, after they had been looked over by the doctor and given a slight stimulant, had been borne off bodily by Bob and the other radio boys to the cottage of Bob's parents, where they sat on the veranda while supper was being prepared, for Bob had given them a cordial invitation to take supper and spend the evening with them.

As they were about the size of Bob and Joe, the latter had furnished them with extra suits of their own clothes while their drenched garments were taken in charge by Mrs. Layton to be dried and pressed.

And now for the first time the new acquaintances were able to take a good look at each other. What they saw pleased them mutually.

One of the boys was slender and agile, with frank, honest eyes and a friendly smile that was almost constantly in evidence. His hair was brown and wavy and his complexion naturally fair, though it was at the moment tanned by the sun and sea air. There was not an ounce of superfluous flesh on his body, and he gave the impression of being a trained athlete.

The other had a humorous face that betrayed Irish ancestry, which was emphasized by the merest touch of a brogue when he talked. His hair was red and his face freckled, and there was something about him that was extremely likable and made the boys warm to him at once.

"We haven't had a chance to learn each other's names yet," said Bob, with a smile, as the party settled comfortably into the veranda seats. "And that's not surprising either," he added, "for we've been pretty busy since the first moment we met. This is the first chance we've had to draw our breaths. My name is Bob Layton, and these pals of mine are Joe Atwood, Herb Fennington and Jimmy Plummer, the latter the greatest doughnut eater in captivity."

"And our handles are Larry Bartlett and Tim Barcommon," said the taller of the two newcomers, as they laughingly acknowledged the introductions. "And before we do anything else we want to tell you fellows how grateful we are for the way you came to our help. It would have been all up for us if you hadn't."

"Yes," chimed in Tim, "we'll never forget it as long as we live. It was a mighty plucky thing for you fellows to pull out in the sea that was running. The sight of you coming was the only thing that helped me to hold on. I was just about all in when you reached us. You certainly sent that old boat spinning along."

"Oh, that was nothing," disclaimed Bob. "We just happened to be on the spot. Any one else would have done the same thing."

"But you notice n.o.body else did do it," replied Larry. "There were lots of other people on the beach that saw the accident, but you were the only ones that did the hustling. It was a case of quick thinking as well as plucky acting, and we owe our lives to you. I only hope that some time we'll be able to do something that will show you how we appreciate it."

"What gets me," put in Joe, "was the heartless way those fellows in the motor boat acted. They were simply brutes. They ought to have their necks wrung."

"Yes," said Herb. "There was no excuse for their running you down in the first place. But after they'd done it, the least they could have done was to turn their boat around and pick you up. We took it for granted that that was what they would do, and we couldn't believe our eyes when we saw them keep on. Those fellows are nothing less than murderers."

"I guess you're about right," replied Larry. "We counted, too, on their picking us up, and our only thought was to hold on to any floating thing we could grab until they could get to us. And when we saw that they weren't going to, we just about gave up hope. Both Tim and I are pretty good swimmers, and if we'd been alone might have reached the sh.o.r.e. But there was the girl, and with the water as rough as it was we had a pretty slim chance of bringing her in, so it was a case of living or dying together. And it would have been dying sure enough, if you hadn't happened to be on the beach this afternoon.

"It would have been especially hard," he continued, "if the girl had been drowned when she was out on our invitation and under our protection. As for ourselves, it would not have mattered so much. She is an awfully nice girl, and her family and mine have been acquainted for years. My mother and hers used to go to school together. I hadn't any idea she was down here when I decided to spend a couple of weeks at Ocean Point, but you can imagine how surprised and delighted I was to find that she and her folks were stopping at the same hotel I had picked out. She was a little afraid of the water, but yielded when we urged her to come out for a row, and we were all having a dandy time until that motor boat come along and spoiled everything."

"And think of what the world would have lost if we'd been among the missing," said Tim, with a grin. "No more exhibitions of the Canary Bird Snake, otherwise known as Larry Bartlett."

"Or of the famous buck wing and clog dancer, otherwise known as Tim Barcommon," laughed Larry.

The radio boys looked at each other in some perplexity.

"I don't quite get you," said Bob.

CHAPTER III

AT THE WIRELESS STATION

"Why, it's this way," explained Larry. "We are vaudeville performers.

Tim's specialty is dancing, and I can tell you, because he's too modest to say it himself, that he's a peach. Whenever he appears, he just knocks them off their seats. He's a riot."

"Cut it out," protested Tim. "Leave that to the press agent."

"It's straight goods, just the same," declared Larry. "As for little me, I've got a knack of twisting myself into knots, and then, too, I do a little whistling. And because of that they call me on the posters and in the theater programs the Canary Bird Snake. Kind of mixed up, isn't it?"

The radio boys were tremendously interested. The stage had for them the touch of mystery and glamour that appeals to youth, and it was an unusual treat for them to be talking on familiar terms with characters such as they had only seen hitherto in the glare of the footlights.

"It must be great," said Bob, "to go all over the country as you do and see all there is to be seen."

"Oh, like everything else, theatrical life has its ups and downs," replied Larry. "It's all right when they hand you applause, but not such fun when they throw eggs, especially if the eggs are old. We've never had that experience yet though, and here's hoping that we never shall. There's lots of hard work connected with it, and Tim and I have to work a good many hours each day to keep ourselves in trim. Then, too, when you're playing one night stands and have to get up before daylight to catch a train, which in rube towns often turns out to be just a caboose attached to a freight, it isn't any fun. And it's less fun when you happen to get snowed in for a day or two, as has happened to us several times. But you get paid for all that when your turn goes big and the audience is friendly and gives you a good hand. Oh, it isn't all peaches and cream, but take it altogether we have a pretty good time."

"That is, when we're working," put in Tim. "It isn't much fun though when the ghost doesn't walk every Sat.u.r.day night."

The boys looked a little puzzled and Larry undertook to enlighten them.

"Tim means when the pay check doesn't happen to come along," he said. "In other words, when we're out of a job. You see we're both pretty young in the profession and we aren't as well known as we hope to be later on. We have to take what we can get on the small-time circuits, and we know that if we make good there we'll get on the big-time circuit sooner or later.