The Boys of the Wireless Part 23

"Some one spying on us," declared Ben in a quivering whisper. The air had been so full of mystery the past few days that Ben traced its continuance in any unusual happening.

"More like a sleepy tramp," observed Tom.

"Find out, will you?"

"I intend to."

Tom picked up a heavy stick, advanced quietly to the bushes, and brought it down with a force of a policeman's club directly across the flat soles presented.

"Thunder!"

The owner of the shoes leaped to his feet with a vivid exclamation.

"Oh, it's you, Bill?" spoke Tom instantly. "What in the world have you got here?"

Peering past Bill Barber, Tom observed a double-barreled shotgun where he had been lying down. Ben looked dreadfully suspicious. Bill flushed and stammered.

"Oh, just hunting," he spoke evasively.

"In that bunch of brush?" laughed Tom.

Then, placing a rallying hand on Bill's shoulder, he added: "Out with it, Bill, what are you up to?"

Bill's lips came grimly together.

"You won't interfere with me, if I tell?"

"Why should I?"

"Well, then, I'm watching your station here."

"What for?"

"Visitors."

"Indeed?"

"Trespa.s.sers, vandals, I had better say," went on Bill. "See here, I'm laying for somebody, partly for you, partly because I am interested myself. Tom Barnes, I want you to go straight home and leave me to my own affairs. You've got enough confidence in me to believe that I wouldn't harm you or your friends or your wireless, haven't you?"

"There's my answer," said Tom promptly.

As he spoke he extended the key to the trap door.

"No," dissented Bill, "I don't need that, but thank you just the same.

The fellows I've got a tip about won't get as far as the tower."

"You won't hurt anybody, Bill?" questioned Tom gravely, with a glance at the shotgun.

"No, but I'll teach them a lesson they won't forget for a long time to come," was Bill Barber's significant reply.

CHAPTER XVIII-THE TOY BALLOONS

"There's another one-that makes six."

"Six what, Ben?"

"Balloons."

Tom walked to the window where Ben had been sitting, looked at the sky, made out a tiny blue dot sailing aerially seawards, and observed:

"Oh, you mean toy balloons?"

"Yes. There must be a picnic somewhere. Funny thing, too. I noticed they all had a card or a tag attached to the trailing strings."

"Perhaps it is some advertising stunt," suggested Tom.

He resumed the reading of a technical wireless book he had received from New York, while Ben continued idly looking from the tower window.

Affairs at Station Z had settled down to routine. They had learned no results as yet from the mysterious appearance of Bill Barber at the tower the evening before. Suddenly Ben broke out with the words:

"There comes Bill Barber, now."

Tom awaited the appearance of the former captain of the Black Caps with some curiosity. He pointed to a chair as the Barber boy came up through the trap door.

"What's the news, Bill?" inquired Tom casually.

Bill's broad mouth expanded Into a grin. He chuckled serenely.

"Haven't heard anything about last night?"

"Not a word."

"You will if you go down Fernwood way."

"Indeed?"

"Yes, there's two fellows keeping themselves mighty scarce. When they walk they wobble, and when they talk they squabble."

"Do I happen to know the parties?" inquired Tom, but already guessing their ident.i.ty.

"I reckon you do," answered Bill. "Making no bones about it, the fellows are Mart Walters and Bert Aldrich."

"I thought so," put in Ben. "They were up to tricks, were they?"