The Radio Boys at Mountain Pass Part 8

asked Joe.

"Sure! It's the best hotel up there. The only one, in fact; though I believe some of the natives take a few people into their homes."

"By the way," said Herb. "Who's said anything to Mrs. or Mr. Layton about our joining their party? Seems incredible, but maybe they won't want us."

"Gee!" gasped Joe. "I never thought of that. But maybe it's so."

"There's mother now," announced Bob. "Let's put it up to her."

This they did, and her son's three friends were a.s.sured by Mrs. Layton that if their parents were willing they should go she and Mr. Layton would be glad to have them in their party.

"That's fixed then," announced Jimmy. "I'm off now, fellows. Next stop, Mountain Pa.s.s."

CHAPTER VII

RADIO WONDERS

That day and the next were busy ones for the radio boys. The party was to go in two big automobiles that Mr. Layton had hired, and the boys had secured permission to take a small radio set with them. On the morning set for their departure they were ready to the last detail, and it was not long before they and their belongings were snugly packed into the two automobiles and they were all on their way to the mountain resort.

Although it was still only mid-autumn, the air had a keen edge to it, the sky was gray and overcast, and there was the indefinable feel of snow in the air. The big cars rolled crisply through long drifts of dead leaves, going at a lively pace, as it was quite a journey to the resort, with many steep grades to be encountered on the way. The boys were warmly wrapped, and the keen air only gave zest and added to their high spirits.

"These cars ought to be equipped with a radio set," remarked Bob, a short time after they had started. "I saw a picture the other day of a car that was rigged up that way, with an antenna from the radiator to a mast in the rear."

"It's not a bad idea, at that," said Joe. "If a person were going on a long tour, he could keep in touch with the weather forecasts, and know just what to expect the next day."

"Yes, and when he camped for lunch, he could have music while the coffee pot was boiling," said Herb. "Pretty soft, I'll say."

"He'd be out of luck if the static were bad, though," observed Jimmy.

"Oh, it won't be long before they'll get around that static nuisance,"

said Bob. "Have you heard of the latest method of overcoming it?"

The others had not, and Bob proceeded to explain.

"At Rocky Point, Long Island, they put up twelve radio towers, each four hundred and ten feet high, in a row three miles long. Then they hitched up a couple of two hundred kilowatt alternators so that they run in synchronism. That means four hundred kilowatts on the aerial, and I guess that can plough through the worst static that ever happened."

"Four hundred kilowatts!" exclaimed Joe. "That's an awful lot of juice, Bob."

"You bet it is," agreed Bob, nodding his head. "But it does the work.

When they tested out this system signals were received in Nauen, Germany, of almost maximum strength, in spite of bad weather conditions. You know they have a numbered scale, running from nothing to ten, which is maximum. Well, the Rocky Point signals were cla.s.sed as number nine, which means they were almost maximum strength."

"It must have been a terrible job to synchronize those two alternators," commented Joe.

"No doubt of it," agreed Bob. "This article stated that they had to experiment for months before they succeeded. Those machines turn over at somewhere around twenty-two thousand revolutions per minute, you know."

"About three hundred and sixty-six times a second," said Joe, after a short mental calculation. "Nothing slow about that, is there?"

"It's fast enough to do the trick, anyway," agreed Bob. "Wouldn't it be great to be in charge of a station like that?"

The others agreed that it would, and for some time they discussed this latest marvel of radio. Then their minds were drawn away by the wonderful scenery through which they were pa.s.sing. The leaves still left on the trees were tinted in rich reds and browns, and as the big cars climbed to higher levels the party had some wonderful views of high hills and spreading valleys.

But the sky became continually more leaden and overcast, and the drivers put on more speed in an effort to reach their destination before the impending storm should start. But they had gone only a short distance further when a few white flakes came swirling silently down from the leaden sky. Scattered at first, they rapidly increased in numbers until the air was filled with swirling sheets of white. The snow packed over the winds.h.i.+elds and powdered the occupants of the two cars, and the drivers were forced to stop and put up the side curtains. The snow hissed through the branches of the trees and whispered to the dead leaves, making the only sound in a world that was rapidly changing from autumn brown to winter white.

With the side curtains adjusted as snugly as possible, the party resumed its journey. The fine, dry snow searched out every c.h.i.n.k and opening between the curtains, penetrating in some mysterious manner where rain would have been kept out. In a surprisingly short time it had thrown a thick mantle over the road, and the cars began to feel the drag of ploughing through it. Another stop had to be made to put on tire chains, and by this time it was plainly to be seen that the drivers were becoming worried.

They had still about a third of the distance to cover, which included some of the worst grades in that part of the country. The road had changed from smooth macadam to a rough trail that required careful driving even under the most favorable conditions, and now the snow, drifting into holes and depressions, hid them from sight, the first intimation of their presence being a jolt and slam as the wheels dropped into some pit that the driver could easily have avoided otherwise. The pa.s.sengers were shaken about unmercifully, and had to hold fast to anything handy to keep from being thrown against the roof.

"Good night!" exclaimed Herb, as one particularly heavy jolt threw him from the seat and left him floundering on the floor. "We won't have any springs left on the cars by the time we reach the hotel, provided we ever do. I know people who have driven over this road, and they never mentioned its being so bad."

"So have I," said Bob, peering out through the side curtains. "My private opinion is, that we've gotten off the main road altogether.

There was a fork a way back, and I thought then that the drivers turned in the wrong direction."

"That hardly seems possible, Bob," said Mr. Layton. "They are both experienced drivers, and are supposed to know this road like a book."

"Well, likely enough I'm wrong," said his son. "If they did take the wrong fork, though, I suppose they'll soon find it out and turn back."

But Bob was gifted with a keen sense of direction, and it was not long before the little party found that he had been correct in his surmise.

The leading car halted, the other followed suit, and the drivers, beating their numbed hands together, held a conference in the road.

After a struggle with the fastenings of the side-curtain, Mr. Layton descended and joined them. The boys followed suit, leaving Mrs. Layton in sole possession of the two cars.

"We don't rightly know how it happened, sir," said one of the drivers, addressing Mr. Layton; "but somehow we've got off the right road in this confounded snow, and I guess there's nothing for it but to turn and try to get back on it at the place where we branched off."

"Well, let's do it then, as quickly as possible," said Mr. Layton, decisively. "The snow is getting deeper every minute, and we can't afford to lose any more time. I thought you men knew the road too well to make a mistake like that."

One of the drivers muttered something about "snow" and "can't see nothin' ten feet ahead," and they climbed into their seats, while the others scattered to their places inside.

The driver of the leading car stepped on the electric starter b.u.t.ton, but instead of the engine starting there was a shock, a sharp snap of breaking steel, and the starter motor whirred idly around with no more effect on the engine than one of the thickly fallen snowflakes.

The driver uttered a fierce exclamation. "There goes that starter spring again!" he exclaimed. "Now I'll have to crank the blamed engine every time I want to start for the rest of this trip."

He fished around under the front seat, produced a starting crank, and tried to turn the engine over by hand. In his haste, however, he had forgotten to r.e.t.a.r.d the spark, and as he lunged down on the crank with all his strength, the motor backfired, the crank spun around several times, and the driver staggered back, his right arm hanging limp and useless.

CHAPTER VIII

A CLOSE SHAVE

Mrs. Layton uttered a scream, and the others looked at each other a second with blank faces. Then they jumped out and surrounded the unfortunate driver, who was gazing at his injured arm in a dazed fas.h.i.+on. Mr. Layton made a quick examination, and p.r.o.nounced that the wrist was badly sprained. Fortunately, they had a complete medical outfit in one of the cars, including splints, and Mr. Layton contrived to bind up the injured wrist after a fas.h.i.+on, and then suspended the arm in a sling.

"But who's going to drive the car?" asked the uninjured chauffeur, after this operation had been completed. "If none of you people knows how to drive, we're in a pretty bad fix."