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Notwithstanding Mr. Crowninshield's comforting words, however, Walter could not shake off the consciousness that take it all in all he had blundered desperately throughout the entire train of events connected with Lola and his vanity was sadly hurt. If any good had come out of what he had done it was more by chance than as a result of wise calculation. He had meant well, that was all that could be said, and the patronage these words implied was by no means flattering to one anxious to make himself valuable to his employer.
What a boob he was; what a blunderer! The name Mr. Crowninshield had so wrathfully bestowed on him was unquestionably deserved. It fitted him like a glove. The fact that the great man had afterward sought to palliate the sting of the term did not actually help matters any. What he had thought in the beginning and so spontaneously declared was what he really believed, and as his dispirited retainer observed to himself, who could blame him?
He couldn't have made a worse start at a job had he tried. In his depression he almost wished he had never seen Surfside, the Crowninshields, or anything belonging to them.
Nor was his melancholy lightened when he found on entering the house that the telephone line was busy and that some one was calling Mr. Crowninshield. Goodness only knew how long it might be now before the wire would be free for the master to reach and warn Bob to keep secret the tidings his brother had tattled to him. Wasn't it infernal luck to encounter this delay? If he had only held his tongue in the first place! Well, it had taught him a lesson. The next time he got mixed up in somebody else's affairs he would keep them to himself.
Meandering aimlessly outdoors he sat down on the steps to wait until the owner of the house should finish his conversation.
For a time he remained quite quiet; but when the minutes lengthened into a quarter of an hour he began to fidget. Would the talkers never stop? Why, their chattering seemed to be endless? Even through the door he could hear Mr. Crowninshield's curt tones and the eager rise and fall of his voice. Once he laughed as if pleased, and twice Walter heard a cry of "Good!" When he did appear on the piazza his face was wreathed in smiles.
"That brother of yours is a Jim Dandy!" he exclaimed, rubbing his hands. "You did a mighty clever thing, young one, to get him on the job. We never can thank you enough."
"Me?"
"Certainly you! Why didn't you tell me more about this family paragon of yours? I didn't take in he was a radio operator."
"I—I—I don't know," replied Walter, bewildered.
"Well, his quick action has helped us no end—that is all I can say," announced the owner of Surfside triumphantly. "The instant he got your message he went to work with his wireless outfit. He flashed messages to all the stations in the outlying cities or else telephoned, and inside of half an hour every road to Boston and to New York was watched. You see a man with a little dog had stopped at his station for water. The wood road skirting our shore goes right by Seaver Bay and probably the thief reasoned that no one would be on the lookout for him on such an out-of-the-way thoroughfare. At any rate he had to have water for his engine and he took a chance. He told your brother he was touring the Cape, and had you not called Bob up he would have thought no more of the happening. But when you told him about Lola immediately he pricked up his ears. The dog tallied perfectly with what you had previously told him and the fact that it was a Pekingese made him suspicious. Leaping at the possibility that his visitor was in reality the man wanted, he sent out a broadcast describing the culprit.
"With an accurate description of the man, car, and dog we cannot fail to get tidings soon. And at any rate we have something definite to work on. We know what the thief looks like, what he had on, the make of his car and all about him. Unquestionably he will be stopped either between here and Boston or between here and New York,—for he is probably aiming for one of those cities. I myself rather think he will go straight through to Boston. He would not venture to try New York until later because he would be well aware that the authorities there would be waiting for him. He isn't going to be trapped. So he will try to do the thing he figures I will not calculate upon." Mr. Crowninshield rubbed his hands and laughed. "Little does he know we have him down cold already! And it has all been so quietly and promptly done. That is the beauty of it. You must have got home from your walk very soon after the wretch had left. Therefore the loss was discovered sooner than he had planned. Doubtless he was delayed by Jerry's being about and had to wait until his accomplice up in Brockton called him off. I presume they had agreed upon some hour when they would summon the unsuspecting caretaker to the telephone." As the scheme of the robbery began to unfold, Walter mirrored his employer's smile.
"And if the other chap is in Brockton doesn't that indicate that this fellow who was here will most likely expect to pass through there and pick him up?" he ventured, feeling very much of a personage to be thus taken into Mr. Crowninshield's confidence.
"Exactly!"
His Highness glowed with satisfaction. Some of his self-esteem was returning.
"Fortunately your brother had the good sense to warn his allies to act carefully and not alarm the thief, so that the life of the dog might not be jeopardized. He seems to have thought of everything, this brother Bob of yours. If we get Lola back it will be largely his doing—and yours. I sha'n't forget the fact, either."
Walter flushed under the great man's praise.
"It was just a happen," murmured he. "I thought I had blundered."
He saw Mr. Crowninshield color at having his own word hurled back at him.
"Some of the most fortunate strokes in our lives are achieved by chance," replied he, laughing. "See how capable I am of shifting my philosophy," he added with good humor. "Nevertheless, although this indiscretion of yours has turned out well I still maintain that, generally speaking, a silent tongue is a great asset. In nine cases out of ten keeping still does far less harm than talking. Jerry is a shining example of my creed. In all the years he has been here he has never let his tongue outrun his solid judgment. And yet," concluded he with a twinkle, "had we trusted to Jerry, we should never have heard of his Brockton telephone communication. So there you are! Which is the better way? It seems to be a toss up in this case."
"I guess the better way is never to make a mistake," smiled Walter.
"Do you know the infallible person who can boast such a record?" came whimsically from Mr. Crowninshield.
"N—o, sir."
"Nor I."
A pause fell between them and Walter rose to go.
"Do you suppose you will hear anything more to-night?" questioned he shyly.
"There is no telling. We may have news at any moment; or again we may hear nothing until into the night or till morning."
"I'm crazy to get tidings, aren't you?" In his earnestness the lad had forgotten that they were not of an age or quite of the same station.
The master smiled indulgently.
"I'm every bit as crazy to hear as you are," said he, quite as if Lola were their joint possession.
"Do you think you'll get any message before I go to bed?"
Once more Mr. Crowninshield regarded him with friendly comradeship.
"That depends on what time you turn in."
"At home Ma makes me go at nine o'clock. I've done it pretty much, too, since I've been here. She wanted I should."
"You are a sensible fellow. Nine o'clock is late enough for anybody to sit up, although I will admit," the man chuckled mischievously, "that in New York we occasionally sit up later than that."
But Walter ignored the jest.
"Do you think you will hear by nine?" persisted he.
"There is no way of knowing, sonny," was the kind answer. "The best thing for you to do, however, is to go to bed as you usually do. You are tired out with excitement. I can see that."
"No I'm not," contradicted the boy, his eyes very wide open.
"But you are—a deal more fagged than you realize. I am myself. Now I'll tell you what we'll do. I'll go to bed and you go to bed; and if any message comes I'll tell them to waken me and then I'll waken you. I can call you on the wire that goes from the house down to your quarters. How will that do?"
"But suppose I shouldn't hear it?" objected the lad.
"Somebody will. The chauffeurs do not go to sleep as early as you do, I rather fancy. I will give orders for one of them to tell you if a call comes."
"I'd much prefer to sit up, sir. Why couldn't I just sit here on the piazza? It wouldn't disturb anybody and I should be on the spot."
"You might sit here all night and catch your death of cold, and no tidings come until morning, sonny. No, my plan is much the better one. You trot along to bed. I'll fulfill my part of the contract and go also. And if there is anything to tell before morning you shall hear it."
Reluctantly the lad moved away.
He was not in the least sleepy. Nevertheless because he had given his word he dragged himself across the lawn, mounted the stairs to his room, and began to undress. His spirits were very high. Within an hour or two—three hours at the very most—the telephone would ring and Mr. Crowninshield would announce to him the glad tidings that the thief had been caught. Then some one would motor to Barnstable, Brockton, or wherever it was, recapture Lola, and bring her back, and the events of the past few hours would be only a nightmare. And it would be Bob—he and Bob—who brought about this glorious climax to a day of catastrophes. And if such a result was accomplished had not the owner of Surfside promised that he would never forget the service?
For his own part Walter wanted nothing. If Lola could only be found his happiness would be complete. But if only Mr. Crowninshield would do something wonderful for Bob! Perhaps he might give him a big sum of money; he could well afford to. Or maybe he would put him in the way of earning it. There was no telling what Aladdin-like feats he might perform. Such a man was all powerful. Why, he could send Bob to Europe if he chose! Or pay the mortgage on the house. He could make Bob's fortune.
The younger boy thrilled at the thought.
With these optimistic and intriguing fancies in mind he slipped into bed and soon dozed off into dreams wilder and even more extravagant. He slept soundly and awoke with a bewildered cry when a knock came at the door.
"It's I—Wheeler, shaver! The boss wants you on the telephone."
Up scrambled Walter, his stupor banished by the agitation of the moment.
He did not wait to don his clothes but in his pajamas took the stairs two at a time and soon had his ear to the receiver.
"Walter?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well, we have some news, such as it is." Mr. Crowninshield's voice sounded dubious and discouraged. "They tracked the car we were after to Buzzard's Bay and found it there empty; its occupants had disappeared."
"Disappeared!" repeated the astounded boy.
"Yes, they're gone! Vanished in thin air! Not a trace of them is to be found. The abandoned automobile with its number removed, was discovered on a side road."
"The man must be hiding somewhere in the vicinity then."
"That does not follow, son; I wish it did."
"What else could he do?"
"His accomplice from Brockton could meet him with another car, for one thing."
"A different car, and throw us off the scent!"
"Precisely."
For a second neither of them spoke. Walter was too nonplussed and his employer too disheartened.
"Isn't that the limit!" the lad presently gathered indignation enough to ejaculate.
"I expected something of the sort," was the reply. "We are up against professionals, you see, and not amateurs. This gang is being paid big money and does not intend either to fail in what it has undertaken or be trapped. We had it too easy at the beginning and were too much elated by our initial success."
"What are you going to do now?"
"I've wired New York for detectives. I ought to have followed my first impulse and done it immediately, and I should have had we not seemed on the high road to success without help. The plain-clothes men will probably be miffed at being called in now that we have meddled with the case and messed it all up."
"But I don't see how we have done any harm," retorted His Highness, feeling it a little ungrateful of Mr. Crowninshield to veer so quickly from commendation to censure.
"Oh, untrained people never can compete with skilled ones in any line," was the sharp answer. "I ought to have remembered it. Doubtless in our zeal we betrayed ourselves somehow and our man became suspicious and adopted other tactics in consequence."
"I don't believe so," Walter maintained stoutly. "I'll bet this is just what he had arranged to do anyway."
"Well, perhaps it was. We cannot tell about that," yawned the man at the other end of the wire. "The result, however, is the same. Instead of netting our catch we have allowed it to slip through our fingers."
There was an edge of exasperation in the tone.
"Maybe we'll have better luck than you think," ventured the lad, not knowing what else to say, and unwilling to betray his chagrin.
"We'll have neither good luck nor bad in future," responded the master curtly. "After this we keep our hands off and the detectives manage the affair. There have been blunders enough."
With this ungracious comment the great man hung up the receiver and stumbling through the darkness His Highness felt his way upstairs and dropped into bed.
Like a house of cards his roseate dreams for the future had suddenly collapsed. There would be now no wonderful career for Bob, no bag of gold, no fairy fortune! Instead of being a hero he had again become a mere duffer, a blunderer, had played the fool.
Since failure had come in place of the coveted success Mr. Crowninshield would most likely blame it all to him.
Fleeting, indeed, was the favor and gratitude of princes!
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By late afternoon of the following day the New York detectives arrived and Wheeler drove their dusty and travel-stained car around to the garage.
"Must have speeded up some!" commented he, on viewing the throbbing machine. "Left New York at midnight," they said. "Some friends of the master's likely, come to play golf."
Ever given to frankness it was on the tip of Walter's tongue to declare the real identity of the strangers, but fortunately he bethought him in time to halt the words.
"What did they look like?" inquired he, eager to know and yet anxious not to appear inquisitive.
"Look like? Like any other dusty, muddy guys," grumbled Wheeler, eyeing with disdain the grimy automobile which he knew he would be expected to clean.
"Old or young?" persisted His Highness.
"Old enough to know better than to heat up an engine this way, but young enough to do it," snapped Wheeler. "Shouldn't think their car had seen water in years, it's that filthy. A rum job for me!"
Walter, however, did not reply. He was not in the least interested in the mud-caked car. It was its occupants that aroused his curiosity. In all his life he had never seen a genuine detective and he was all impatience for a peep at persons allied with such an intriguing profession. While his reason told him they must, of course, look precisely like other men, nevertheless the hope would persist that perhaps, after all, they didn't. And even if they did appear like ordinary mortals were there not their myriad disguises? He hoped with all his heart they would wear some of these, that the exigencies of the case would compel it.
Very great, then, was his surprise and disappointment when on being summoned to the big house soon after the arrival of these interesting creatures he was presented to two commonplace beings who, although charming gentlemen, were not in the least different from anybody else. Mr. Dacie, the younger of the men, was a pleasant, blond-haired fellow who instantly ingratiated himself in the boy's affections by asking him if he collected stamps and bestowing on him two rare ones from China. In fact he seemed to like everything a boy liked and appeared to be almost a boy himself.
Mr. Lyman was older but he, too, when he was not being stern and business-like, was very jolly. No one could possibly be afraid of either one of them and then and there His Highness's faith in the ultimate success of Mr. Crowninshield's cause dwindled and died. They weren't disguised at all; and if they had pistols they must have had them well concealed for the only suspicious articles produced from their pockets were notebooks and pencils. He had expected to be quite awed by their presence but on the contrary he found, when he started out to show them the kennels and the place where he had seen the automobile tracks, that he was chattering away to both of them quite as if he had known them all his life.
Mr. Dacie was particularly friendly, and as they walked along he talked much of sports, dogs, and fishing. Furthermore he was intensely interested in Bob and listened attentively to all that was told him about this remarkable big brother. He had a bully brother himself, he said. In short, before a half hour had passed His Highness had not only decided to become a detective but to become one exactly like Mr. Dacie.
And yet as he thought it over afterward the hero of his sudden adoration had not uttered one syllable about jails, criminals, robberies, or crimes of any sort. In fact he had talked really very little. What he had done had been to smile, nod, and let the other fellow babble. It had, to be sure, been a delightful experience to find yourself a lion, and everything you did of interest to your listener; but you did not learn much about the business of being a detective, reflected Walter, a bit mortified by his discovery. Well, the next time he was with Mr. Dacie he would ask him some questions and let him relate everything about his mysterious calling.
Strange to say, however, the moment for such disclosures never appeared to come right. There was always so much else to talk of. Mr. Dacie wanted most terribly to catch some flounders and wondered if there were any to be found; and of course as Walter knew of three secret places where flounders were sure to lurk he eagerly told his new friend about them. And then he had to talk swimming and school—and how he hated it! Why, there were endless things to tell Mr. Dacie. The visit of the two men was, moreover, surprisingly short. They remained at Surfside only one night and the next morning, together with Mr. Crowninshield, who led the way in his car, they disappeared leaving His Highness none the wiser and regretfully mourning his lost opportunity to be initiated into the gruesome mysteries of a detective's career.
The realization that in exchange for telling everything he knew or ever had thought Mr. Dacie had told him nothing suddenly caused the lad to speculate as to whether after all both Mr. Dacie and his associate, Mr. Lyman, were not cleverer than they looked to be.
It seemed incredible to recall, now that they were gone, that he had not once asked them what they thought about Lola and whether they had any idea where the man who had taken her had gone. How much better it would have been had he made that inquiry instead of chattering about his own affairs. But somehow when there had been a lull in the conversation they had always been busy measuring footprints or automobile ruts, and writing down these unending dimensions. Moreover, something which he was unable to explain always halted the questions.
Well, it was useless to regret his vanished opportunities. The detectives were now far beyond his reach and probably he would never see them again. He might as well go about his work and put them, together with Lola and her baffling disappearance, out of his mind. This he tried valiantly to do, but in spite of his utmost endeavor his thought constantly reverted to the missing dog, and when toward dusk Mr. Crowninshield's car came whirling up the avenue His Highness had all he could do not to rush out and demand of the master whether he had secured any further information.
To remember that he must keep constantly in the background was, in fact, one of the most difficult aspects of Walter's job. As a democratic young American who had always mingled in the best society Lovell's Harbor had to offer he had been free to give a hail to anybody he desired to greet. But at Surfside everything was different. He must stifle his natural impulses and curb his tongue, a role very hard for one who had had no previous experience with class distinctions. Difficult as it had been he had made up his mind to being excluded from the gayety that went on about him. It was, to be sure, no fun to view automobile loads of young people roll out of the drive bent on a day of pleasure; to look on while motor boats pulled up anchor and puffed across the blue of the bay. And how he would have adored to try his hand at a set of tennis on that fine dirt court! Ah, there were moments when to a normal, healthy boy the world appeared a very unfair place; and the lot of one who worked for a living a wretched one.
And then, when his spirits had reached their lowest ebb, he would resolutely take himself to task. Was there not his pay envelope to compensate him? He was not at Surfside to have a good time; he was there to earn his daily bread and very fortunate was he to have so good a place. Having read himself this lecture he was wont to turn to his duties with lighter heart, closing his ears to the laughter and his eyes to the merriment that made up the days of the idle. But what he never could get used to was the fact that he must not ask questions or voice his opinions. In a free country where one man was as good as another the mandate seemed absurd. But it wasn't done. That was all there was about it. Jerry said so and so did Tim.
Instead of piping, "Hi, Mr. Crowninshield, did you find out anything?" one awaited the information until it was voluntarily imparted.
In this particular case, as good fortune would have it, His Highness's impatience had seethed and bubbled only a half hour before who should come strolling down to the kennels but the very gentleman the lad was feverish to interrogate.
Arrayed in a cool Palm Beach suit and a soft hat of white felt he sauntered up as indifferently as if the boy's curiosity were not at the boiling point and said, "Good evening," in a perfectly calm, self-possessed tone.
"Good evening, sir," Walter replied.
"Dogs all right?"
"Yes, sir."
"No more of them missing?"
"Not on your—no, sir."
The great man turned away to conceal a smile.
"I've been seeing your brother to-day," remarked he.
"Bob?"
Mr. Crowninshield nodded.
"Yes. We went over to the Seaver Bay wireless station."
The lad waited.
"You have a very fine brother, youngster, and one whom you may well be proud of."
"Yes, sir."
(What was the use of telling him that? His Highness knew what a corker Bob was without being told. Much better tell him what had happened at Seaver Bay, what the detectives said, and whether Lola had been found!)
"We had, in fact, quite a talk with your brother."
"Yes, sir." The reply came automatically.
"He was able to furnish us with much information regarding the man we are chasing up."
"Yes, sir."
"Yes," ruminated Mr. Crowninshield with evident satisfaction, "we have the thief sketched in quite clearly."
"Yes, sir."
"With the details your brother gave us Dacie and Lyman have a most encouraging foundation on which to work."
"Have they found out anything yet, sir?"
The question would out despite all Walter could do to stop it. He knew the instant it had left his tongue that he shouldn't have asked it and he stood there hot and embarrassed at his own audacity.
Much to his surprise, however, Mr. Crowninshield did not appear to be in the least offended. On the contrary he seemed pleased by the lad's eager interest and smiled at him kindly.
"Yes, we've found out something," said he, "but it is not very good news, I am sorry to say. Dacie and Lyman traced the car that carried Lola as far as Buzzard's Bay and discovered that there——"
"Yes?" interrupted Walter, so intent on the story that he was unconscious of interrupting.
"There," repeated Mr. Crowninshield, "the thieves embarked on a private yacht that awaited their coming; steamed through the Canal, and——"
"Don't say they are gone, sir!" cried the boy.
"I'm afraid so, sonny."
"Well, if that isn't the limit!"
"It is, indeed," rejoined the elder man heartily.
His Highness had staggered back against the door in consternation. If Mr. Crowninshield had affirmed that the thieves had taken flight in an aeroplane he could not have been more astonished than by the turn affairs had taken.
"What do you suppose they'll do now?" demanded he.
"We've no idea. They may make for New York, Boston, or some other port where they think they will be safe. There is no way of knowing. Or it may be that the person who hired them to get Lola is on the yacht and having now secured what he has been in search of he may simply cruise about and not land at all for months. Anything is possible."
"Could they get the name of the boat?"
"Yes, she's called theSiren."
"Then I should think it would be easy enough to track her down, board her, and bring Lola away," said Walter.
"It sounds simple, doesn't it?" Mr. Crowninshield returned. "But I am afraid it is not going to be as easy as that. We have no way of proving that Lola is aboard the yacht, in the first place. Moreover, even did we know that she was there, there are a thousand and one places where she could be hidden and defy discovery. And were the villains actually cornered nothing would be less difficult than to wring the puppie's neck and throw her overboard so that nothing would remain to identify the wretches with their crime."
"Scott!"
"You see now that to recover Lola is not such an easy matter."
"I'm afraid not, sir," was the dispirited response.
Mr. Crowninshield glanced at the dejected figure before him.
"We mustn't give up beaten yet, however," affirmed he, struggling to be cheerful. "The game isn't up, you know. Dacie and Lyman are clever men and I have given them a free rein as to money. If there is anything to be done they ought to be able to accomplish it."
Nevertheless optimistic as the words were it was plain to see that Mr. Crowninshield was not really as sanguine as he would have Walter think. There was a pucker of annoyance about the corners of his mouth, and his eyes looked dull and discouraged. Say what he might His Highness knew without being told that deep down in his heart of hearts Lola's master had resigned himself to never seeing her again.
For a few seconds the capitalist lingered, musing. Then he broke the stillness, hurling a bomb into the air with the words:
"By the by, I have made your brother an offer. I've suggested that he leave Seaver Bay and come here. I am going to give Dick a radio set for his birthday and I should like the aid of an expert in rigging it up. Besides, last season I installed a wireless on my yacht and shall need some one to operate it. This Bob of yours is precisely the sort of chap I want."
"Oh, Mr. Crowninshield!" was all Walter could stammer.
"You'd like having him here then?"
"You bet your—yes, sir, I would," gasped His Highness, making a dash after his manners.
"That's good," remarked the financier, much amused. "I hope he'll decide to come. You must use your influence to persuade him."
This time Walter did not forget his etiquette.
"I will, sir," replied he meekly.
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That night when his day's duties had been discharged and he was free, the first thing His Highness did was to pen a much blotted and somewhat incoherent note to Seaver Bay. Almost every sentence of it was underlined and some of the persuasive adjectives and verbs were even emphasized in red pencil. Certainly what the epistle lacked in neatness and beauty of appearance was compensated for in sincerity and earnestness. This document mailed and reinforced by an ardent appeal over the telephone, there was nothing to do but possess one's soul of patience until Bob decided what it was best for him to do.
To throw up a government job with practically assured employment for a private venture which might be of short duration seemed madness and the young radio man with his level head and sober judgment was not one to leap at a decision. Carefully he weighed the pros and cons and while he did so Walter, and even Mr. Crowninshield himself, fidgeted. His Highness would not have hesitated a moment; and that any one should do so appeared to him incomprehensible. As for the master of Surfside who was accustomed to having his business offers snapped up the instant they were made, the younger man's deliberation piqued his interest and respect as almost nothing else could have done. He had thought the terms suggested very generous and had expected them to be seized with avidity. It was something new to have a penniless youth waver as to whether to accept or reject them.
In the meantime while the days passed no tidings came from the New York detectives and the dwellers at Surfside were compelled to settle down to their customary routine and put Lola's disappearance out of their minds. Gardeners toiled, flowers blossomed, Jerry mugged about with his misty blue eyes following every seed that was planted, every turn the lawn mower made; they followed, too, what Walter was doing and saw to it that the dogs were well cared for and that his young protégé neglected nothing.
Walter saw little of Dick now, for the house was filled with guests and the place humming with laughter and the rush of unending sports and picnics. There were tennis tournaments, golf matches, swimming races, regattas when small fleets of knockabouts maneuvered in the bay. In the midst of such a whirl of merriment it taxed all one's forbearance to be nothing more than the boy who cared for the dogs.
On one particularly fine, bracing June morning after the lad had returned from a solitary cross-country tramp with Achilles and the rest of the pack, his lot seemed to him especially unenviable. There was evidently to be a ball game. College boys with crimson H's on their shirts; men with a blue Y; together with a group of short-sleeved players not yet honored with insignia from their universities were hurrying out to the lawn with bats, balls, and catcher's mitts.
"You must pitch for the Blues, Dabney," called one fellow to another.
"Who's going to catch for the Crimson team?" piped another.
"I choose to play for Yale," came shrilly from another man who was lounging across the grass in immaculate white flannels.
"Come on and help Harvard along, Cheever," put in a strident voice.
"Not on your sweet life!" bawled Cheever, with a vehemence that made everybody laugh. "Goodness knows she needs help; but I'm not going to be the one to offer it."
Again there was a good-humored shout from the bustling throng.
"I'll line up with Yale to beat you though," Cheever added with a chuckle.
"You can line up, you shrimp, but we're going to do the beating," retorted an ardent Harvard supporter.
So the banter went on while the nines were being organized.
At length, however, there was a shout of dismay.
"We're lacking one man," announced the captain of the Crimsons, with sudden consternation. "Haven't you another chap who can play, Dick?"
"Nobody, I'm afraid, unless you want to haul in some of the chauffeurs," Dick answered idly.
"Jove! That's hard luck. We've got to have a shortstop. What are we going to do?"
"Wasn't there a boy around here somewhere this morning with the dogs? It seems to me I saw somebody—a stocky little chap with a snub nose."
The description was not flattering and Walter winced.
"Oh, that was King, who has charge of the kennels," replied Dick quickly. "I'm afraid he hasn't come back with the bunch of poodles yet."
"Yes, he has. I saw him skulking round the garage just now. Can't we drum him up?"
"Sure, if you can find him."
"There he is!" cried Cheever. "I say, you master of the hounds, come on over here. We want you."
Blushing red His Highness approached the noisy group.
"Did you ever play baseball, kid?" inquired the captain of the Harvard team.
"I believe so—once or twice," answered Walter soberly.
"Want to come in with us as shortstop?"
"Sure!"
"I've a glove that will fit him," put in a man called Richardson.
With scant ceremony His Highness was hustled into it and before he sensed what he was doing he was yelling with the rest, and head over ears in as exciting a game of ball as he had ever participated in.
There were excellent players on both teams and the scoring ran so even that it was a toss-up who would win. From jest the game dropped into deadly earnestness.
"It's your turn at the bat, Stubby," asserted Richardson to Walter unceremoniously. "Now remember who you're playing for. Don't hand Yale the game if you can help it."
"I'll do my best," was the modest reply as the lad gripped the bat, then rubbed his hands in the dirt to make his hold more certain.
The pitcher twirled a ball.
"One strike!" droned the umpire.
Again the leather disc spun through the air.
"Two strikes," called the warning voice.
"Great Scott, Stubbie, look out. Don't waste strokes like that, you boob. Let the things go by if they don't suit you. You don'thaveto hit them."
Once more the ball spun through the air. A smart crack followed and up into the blue leaped the ball, defying the pursuit of catcher or baseman.
"Beat it into home plate, George!" coached the captain excitedly. "Move along, you fellows! It's a run for Stubbie! Slide in, Stubbie! Pick up your heels and sprint! Go it! Go it! Keep out of the way, you chaps. Hurray! Bully for you, kid! A beauty!Harvard! Harvard! Harvard!Rah, rah, rah! Rah, rah, rah! Rah, rah, rah,Harvard!" The familiar cheer echoed loud above the shouting.
"That lays them out! They're dead men!" cried Richardson triumphantly. "Where did you learn to play ball, young one?"
"It's no fair borrowing a professional," the Yale leader objected, trying to make a joke of his defeat.
"Jove, but that was a pretty hit!" Dick said quietly to Walter. "A peach!"
"You're all right son!" affirmed the Harvard catcher. "Any time you are out of a job I'll recommend you to the Braves."
A general laugh went up.
Altogether the morning was a glorious day of comradeship, nor did it lessen His Highness's happiness when he returned to his quarters to see disembarking from Mr. Crowninshield's motor car the familiar form of Bob.
"I brought your brother back from Seaver Bay with me," explained the financier. "It took him so long to make up his mind whether he'd come here or not that I went over there to-day to find out whether he was dead or alive."
Mr. Crowninshield was plainly enjoying Walter's amazement.
"And you've come to stay?" His Highness, all delight and confusion, contrived to stammer.
"So they tell me," Bob laughed.
He was a tall, handsome fellow with a grave mouth and thoughtful brown eyes; and when he spoke it was in a voice low and pleasing to the ear.
"Oh, Bob and I have lots of secrets we haven't let you into, little chap," affirmed the master of Surfside gaily.
"I never was so surprised!" gasped Walter.
"We meant you should be. Your brother settled everything up over the telephone a day or two ago."
"But, Bob, I don't see how you managed to get away from Seaver Bay so soon. You said it would probably be weeks before they could act on your resignation, even should you send it in, and afterward they would have to find some one to take your place."
"Luck came my way," Bob replied. "The government was closing the Bell Reef station and they simply shifted the two men who were there over to our place."
"Did you and O'Connel both decide to leave?"
Bob's eyes twinkled.
"O'Connel has just answered an advertisement as operator aboard a private yacht," said he, exchanging a glance with Mr. Crowninshield. Evidently there was some jest between them that amused them vastly.
Curiously Walter looked from one to the other.
"Better tell him, Bob," murmured the New Yorker in a low tone.
"Why you see, kid, O'Connel had a chance to go as wireless man aboard theSiren."
"Not—not the yacht that has Lola on it!"
"The very same—at least we hope it has Lola."
"But—but—I don't understand," muttered His Highness as if dazed.
"Evidently, so far as we can make it out, theSirenpassed through the Canal and not daring to land, cruised along the coast where she must have met with rough weather. Of course that is purely surmise on the detective's part. Anyhow, her radio operator broke his arm and had to be replaced by another man so they advertised for some one. Luckily Dacie saw the item in the want column of the New York paper and set O'Connel on the job. The arrangements have all been by letter through the general mail delivery of New York so we still have no notion as to where theSirenis. On Tuesday, however, O'Connel is to go over to New York, an agent is to meet him, and he is to be told where to go."
"And I suppose Mr. Dacie or Mr. Lyman will be on hand and go along too to nail their man!" cried the delighted Walter.
"Not so fast, son," returned Mr. Crowninshield. "We are not going to track them down so close and scare them off at the outset. No, we sha'n't send any one with O'Connel. He'll go and meet the agent and follow up directions precisely as if he knew nothing about Lola. With Bob here operating a wireless and O'Connel in constant communication with him, we will have all the inside information we're after. O'Connel can soon let us know where the yacht is; whether Lola is aboard of her; and exactly when and where the owners of theSirenare proposing to land. They can't make a move which we shall not know about in a flash. A pretty neat arrangement, I call it!" The New York magnate rubbed his hands together softly.
"Gee! Well, Mr. Lyman and Mr. Dacie have sure been busy!" was Walter's comment.
"You do not mention that I, too, have been busy," chuckled Mr. Crowninshield. "While you have been chasing the dogs over the fields and playing baseball," he winked at Bob, "I have been telephoning to the city for a radio set—a corking fine one—for Dick's birthday. Bob, here, is going to install it with the aid of some New York electricians. It should be all in place inside a few days. Then if O'Connel has any messages for us we shall be ready for him. In the meantime Bob is going to break in you youngsters so that you or Dick can listen in and get any news that may come when he is off duty or aboard the yacht. If those fellows who bagged Lola think themselves so all-fired clever they will find they are mistaken. I did not go into this game to be beaten." Mr. Crowninshield squared his jaw with bulldog resolution.
"Now you and Bob trot off and have a visit together. Show him where his quarters will be. There is a room beside you where Jerry says he can bunk," continued the master of the estate. "Until the apparatus arrives from New York there won't be much he can do, so you better take the chance to go home and see your mother to-night—both of you. By to-morrow or the next day at the latest the electricians should be here with their stuff. Then things will hum!"
With a jaunty wave of his hand Mr. Crowninshield wheeled about and Bob and Walter were left alone.
Top
The joy of Mrs. King when she was informed that both her sons were to be all summer at Surfside cannot be pictured.
"Why, it is like a dream or an answer to prayer!" ejaculated she. "Think of having you so near! Now were Bob to be electrocuted, I could get to him within half an hour."
The fact evidently caused her profound satisfaction and each of her sons laughed.
"I'm not planning to end my days by electrocution," smiled Bob.
"Few do plan to," was the grim retort. "But anyway, whether or no, it is wonderful to have you so close at hand. I shall feel as if I had a great prop behind me."
"I hope so, Mater," Bob said affectionately.
"I suppose you'll not have much time to be spending at home, though," mused the mother presently. "Your work, likely, will keep you busy."
"I expect it will, especially during the next fortnight," Bob answered. "There will be all the apparatus to set up and get into working order; and in addition the equipment aboard the yacht must be overhauled. I want both wireless outfits in perfect condition for much depends on their being trim and tight."
"It isn't probable you'll have much to handle that is important," declared Mrs. King. "It won't be like dealing with government messages or wrecks." The two boys exchanged a glance. Much as they wished to they dared not initiate their mother into the secrets of Surfside.
"You never can tell what messages you'll catch by wireless," Bob returned ambiguously. "Besides, Mr. Crowninshield intends to have some of his business relayed to him from New York."
"Oh!"
"I guess I shall find plenty to do," the elder boy remarked.
"Well, I reckon you will at that rate. But do be careful, won't you? And don't let Walter go dabbling with those evil wires."
"I'll look out for him."
The evasive answer did not, however, satisfy the woman.
"Surely you don't mean to start Walter in learning about wireless, do you?"
"I may give him a few lessons, yes."
"Now don't you do it," retorted Mrs. King in spirited protest. "He was always a blunderer and were he to go messing about with electrical currents I should not have a happy moment. It is bad enough to have one of you in constant danger without two."
"But it isn't dangerous," Walter interrupted.
"Much you know about it," declared his mother, wheeling on him with scorn. "What experience have you had with radio, pray?"
Meekly the lad closed his lips.
"I am going to give some lessons to Mr. Crowninshield's son, Mater, and it seemed to me it was a good chance for Walter to learn something, too," Bob responded gently. "Sometime the kid might find it useful to have such knowledge. You never can tell. Nothing we learn is ever wasted."
"No, I suppose not," was the grudging reply. "Well, just stand over him and see that he doesn't kill himself."
"I've no desire to have him killed."
"No more you have. Of course not," Mrs. King smiled. "But you know if there is any way of crossing the wires he'll do it. He's made that way. Still, unlucky as he is, I'd not care to lose him."
Fondly she beamed on the ill-starred Walter.
"I'll keep at his elbow, Mother," said Bob soothingly.
"I know you will. You were ever good to your brother." She patted the big fellow's hand. "And mind the pair of you come to see me when you can. You'll be busy, I know; but you mustn't forget your mother."
"We'll not do that," cried the boys in chorus.
Nevertheless in spite of the promise there were few opportunities during the next few days for either of them to go a-visiting. The New York electricians arrived and with them came aerials, generators, detectors, tuners, insulators, amplifiers, and all the hundred and one parts necessary for a perfectly equipped radio station. Mr. Crowninshield had indulged in no cheap outfit. On the contrary he had purchased the best there was to be had and as the coils of copper wire, glistening wire rope, and spotless porcelain insulators were unpacked Bob's eyes sparkled with anticipation. With the touch of a connoisseur he handled the materials, examining the quality of each. What was Greek to the others was familiar ground to him.
A low building adjoining the boathouse had been hurriedly constructed and it was here, where the new station was to be situated, that an interested audience congregated daily. Perched on an overturned packing case Mr. Crowninshield surveyed the installment of the novel toy which was not only to gratify Dick's birthday longings but also, he hoped, bring to him the information he coveted concerning Lola.
Much as he knew about stocks and bonds he was as much of a novice in the presence of things electrical as were either his son or Walter King, and therefore to their avalanche of questions he added still others, gratefully accepting the information Bob offered with the eagerness of one who is not too superior to learn.
"What is that thing they are putting in place now?" inquired he. "And what is it for?"
"Oh, even I can answer that, Dad!" cried the delighted Dick. "That is the aerial or antenna and it catches the wireless waves as they travel through the air. The higher and longer it is the better, so far as messages are concerned—that is, within certain limits."
His father's eyes twinkled.
"Where did you pick up so much knowledge?" chuckled he.
"Bob told me."
"I'll be bound he did," sniffed the man. "I wasn't asking about the antenna, though. Green as I am I recognized that. It was that other wire that interested me."
"The lead in?" asked Bob quickly.
"I guess so, although I never was introduced to it by name before."
Everybody laughed at the naive reply.
"The lead in, sir, is the conductor that carries the wireless waves from the aerial into the house. The idea is not to have it too long. It must run as directly as possible and be very carefully insulated from any buildings, trees, or masts because of the current."
"I see. And that other thing?"
"That is the lightning arrester. It can be fastened inside or outside the station, as is most convenient; but it is compulsory to have it to satisfy the insurance companies. The antenna is secured to it and by means of a ground wire any electrical discharges will in a great measure pass off through the earth."
"Mater should see that," murmured Walter mischievously to Bob.
The elder brother nodded humorously.
"The ground helps a lot in radio work," continued he. "In fact were it not for good old Mother Earth furnishing her aid, we should have no wireless at all. One side of our circuit passes through the ground and the other half, which completes it, goes through the air between the aerials of the different stations. Therefore you can readily see that it is most important to make sure of a good earth connection. Often city water pipes are resorted to, the contact being made by soldering a wire to the water faucet. Down here on the Cape, however, where there are only wells and windmills we shall have to sink some metal plates in the ground and connect the wires with these."
"And that is all that goes outside the building?"
"Yes, sir. The lead in brings the wires into the station and they are then connected up with the receiver. Sometimes there are separate antennæ for sending and receiving messages. Of course the big stations always have two. But for a place this size and doing such a small amount of business we can send and receive from the same wire. With a tuner, which can be tuned to bring you into the same key with the station you are listening to; a detector to catch the signal after the persons talking have been brought into tune; and an amplifier that intensifies or increases the sound you have your receiving outfit. Batteries you know about without my telling you; and the head 'phones too, which you have of course seen telephone operators wear hundreds of times."
"Yes, I believe I should recognize one of those," laughed Mr. Crowninshield. "So that is all there is to it, eh?"
"That is about all there is to receiving, yes."
"The sending part of the machine is more complicated, is it?"
"Yes, sir. And so is the job," smiled Bob.
"I mean to learn to transmit as well as receive," put in Dick.
His Highness grinned derisively.
"Do you indeed!" said he. "Well, there is nothing like aiming high. But I guess for the present you'll be pretty well content if you get so you can take down the Morse code as it comes in."
"Is it so hard?"
"That depends on how good you are at memorizing dots and dashes. French verbs are nothing compared to it."
"I hadn't thought of learning to read code."
"You have to, son, if you are going into wireless. With a tutor here on the spot, it should not be difficult. Besides, that is half the fun. I want you to learn this thing intelligently and not just make a plaything of it. I've done my part by buying you the best outfit there was to be had. The rest is up to you."
"That's square, Dick," chimed in Walter.
"Sure it is. I'll go to it and do my darndest, too, Dad," returned the boy.
"That's the proper spirit!" exclaimed his father.
His Highness smiled with ironic satisfaction.
"If Bob is to tutor you you will study harder than you ever did in your precious life," whispered he. "I know Bob. He can be stiff as any college professor. He tutored me in Latin once to pull me through my exams and I barely lived. I don't envy you, old man."
"Gee! Will it be that bad?"
"You will get all the wireless coming to you, that's all. Take it from me," was the teasing rejoinder.
"Oh, I hope he won't bone down as hard as that," wailed Dick dolefully. "I want to get some sport out of this thing. I wasn't planning to be turned into a galley slave during hot weather."
Seeing that he had his victim thoroughly terrified Walter thought it time to shift the jest.
"Don't fret. I was only jollying, old chap," declared he. "Bob won't really stand over you with a whip. He is the best fellow alive. Still, he will expect you to work if you set out to do so. He is always terribly in earnest about whatever he undertakes. I suppose that is why he has got on so well and never failed to make a success of what he has tried to do. You can count on him to duff into this job with the same spirit. You'll get your money's worth of instruction, you may be sure, if he has been hired to give it."
Dick shrugged his shoulders.
"Well, I guess I can stand it if he is not too rough on me," responded he. "I do not mind studying so much if it is about a subject I like; and I am crazy about wireless."