Curlie Carson Listens In

Curlie Carson Listens In, by Roy
J. Snell

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Snell
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Title: Curlie Carson Listens In
Author: Roy J. Snell

Release Date: September 22, 2006 [eBook #19351]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
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CARSON LISTENS IN***
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CURLIE CARSON LISTENS IN
by
ROY J. SNELL

The Reilly & Lee Co. Chicago
Printed in the United States of America Copyright, 1922 by The Reilly
& Lee Co. All Rights Reserved

Curlie Carson Listens In

CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I A STRANGE MESSAGE 9 II SOMETHING BIG 20 III A
WHISPER IN THE NIGHT 34 IV A GAME FOR TWO 46 V IN THE
DARK 55 VI A REAL DISCOVERY 64 VII CURLIE RECEIVES A
SHOCK 75 VIII CURLIE MEETS A MILLIONAIRE 84 IX A
MYSTERIOUS MAP 95 X THE FIRST LAP OF A LONG JOURNEY
107 XI "MANY BARBARIANS AND MUCH GOLD" 117 XII OUT
TO SEA IN A COCKLESHELL 126 XIII A GHOST WALKS 134
XIV THE COMING STORM 141 XV S. O. S. 151 XVI A
CONFESSION 160 XVII A BLINDING FLASH OF LIGHT 170
XVIII THE STORMY PETREL GETS AN ANSWER 177 XIX THE
MAP'S SECRET 185 XX A SEA ABOVE A SEA 194 XXI THE
BOATS ARE GONE 203 XXII THE WRECK OF THE
KITTLEWAKE 211 XXIII THE MIRACLE 219 XXIV THE STORY
OF THE MAP 227 XXV OFF ON ANOTHER WILD CHASE 234

CURLIE CARSON LISTENS IN
CHAPTER I
A STRANGE MESSAGE
Behind locked and barred doors, surrounded by numberless
mysterious-looking instruments, sat Curlie Carson. To the right of him
was a narrow window. Through that window, a dizzy depth below, lay
the city. Its square, flat roofs formed a mammoth checker-board.
Between the squares criss-crossed the narrow black streets. Like a
white chalk-line, drawn by a careless child, the river wound its crooked
way across this checker-board.
To the left of him was a second narrow window. Through this he
caught the dark gleam of the broad waters of Lake Michigan. Here and
there across the surface twinkled the lamps of a vessel, or flashed the
warning beacon of a lighthouse.
A boy in his late teens was Curlie. Slender, dark, with coal-black eyes,
with curls of the same hue clinging tightly to his well-shaped head, he
had the strong profile and the smooth tapering fingers that might
belong to an artist, a pickpocket or a detective.
An artist Curlie was, an artist in his line--radio. Although still a boy, he
was already an operator of the "commercial, extra first-class" type. So
far as license and title were concerned, he could go no higher. A
pickpocket he was not, but a detective he might be thought to be; a
strange type of detective, however, a detective of the air; the kind that
sits in a small room hundreds of feet in air and listens; listens to the
schemes, the plots, the counterplots of men and to the wild babble of
fools. His task was that of aiding in the capture of knaves and the
silencing of foolish folks who used the newly-discovered radiophone as
their mouthpiece.
"Foolish people," Major Whittaker, Curlie's superior, who had called
him to the service, had said, "do quite as much damage to the radio
service as crooks. Fools and knaves must alike be punished and your

task will be to help catch them."
Wonderful ears had Curlie Carson, perhaps the most wonderful ears in
the world. In catching the fine shadings of diminishing sounds which
came to him through the radio compass, there was not a man who could
excel him.
So Curlie sat there surrounded by wire-wrapped frames, coils, keys,
buttons, switches, motors, dry-cells, storage batteries and all the odds
and ends which made up the equipment of the most perfect listening-in
station in the world.
As he sat there with Joe Marion, his pal, by his side, his brow was
wrinkled in thought. He was reviewing the events of the previous night.
At 1:00 a.m., the witching hour when the crooked ones, the mean ones,
come creeping forth like ghosts to carry on doubtful conversations by
radio, a strange thing had happened. A message had gone crashing out
through space. Wave lengths 1200 meters long sped it on its way.
There was power enough behind it to carry it from pole to pole, but all
it had said was:
"A slight breeze