The Radio Boys in the Thousand Islands | Page 4

a Canadian amateur, although he failed to identify
himself.
"Oh, come off, you can't get by with that Robinson Crusoe stuff in this
twentieth century," he "jeered" with all the pep he could put into his
spark. "Some joke you're trying to play. What kind of publicity stunt is
this, anyway?"
"No publicity," was "Crusoe's" reply. "I'll starve if I don't get help.
You're doing your best to kill me. Keep out, I won't talk to you any
more."
"I will not keep out," declared the other. "You're an imposter. I'm

protecting the public."
"Whew!" ejaculated Cub, wiping his brow and snapping over the aerial
switch. "I'm going to find out something about this."
A moment later his right hand was working the sending key with the
speed and skill of an expert, while blue flames leaped over the gap with
spiteful alphabetic spits. Hal and Bud watched him eagerly, and, with a
skill indicating long and studied practice, read the message their lanky
friend shot through the ether.
First he tuned for a few moments and then sent the call which had
accompanied the first Canadian's "SOS". Then he threw back the
switch and received a speedy answer. There seemed to be an almost
spasmodic eagerness in the manner in which he sent his
acknowledgment.
"I heard your call for help," was Cub's next cast. "Who was that fellow
that snapped you up so sassy?"
"I don't know," answered the professed castaway. "I've been trying to
get help for more than a day, and he always breaks in and queers my
call. He makes everybody think I'm putting up a prank."
"Where is your island?" asked Cub.
"Somewhere in the Thousand Islands. That's the best I can locate it. I've
never been here before. Where are you?"
"At Oswego, New York."
"What's your call?"
"A V L."
"Can you do anything for me?"
"I don't know what I can do unless I try to interest somebody near you
by wireless. I'll send out a broadcast in any manner you may suggest.

But you can do that just as well as I."
"I have done it over and over, but it does not do any good," said
"Crusoe". "That evil genius of mine always manages to queer me.
Finally I got so desperate that I sent out an SOS."
"And committed a radio crime," broke in the alleged evil genius. "Don't
you know the rules governing that distress signal?"
"There he is again," "Crusoe" dot-and-dashed.
"Who are you?" demanded Cub.
"I am Canadian amateur," was the reply. "That fellow who sent the
distress signal is a Canadian college student trying to put over a college
prank. I am on his trail to prevent him. We have a wager up; if he
induces anybody to go to his rescue, I lose."
"That is not true," interposed the sender of the SOS.
"What is your call?" Cub inquired.
"Yes, give it to him, and tell him what college I am from," proposed the
"fellow on the island".
"One of the conditions of our wager is that I must not reveal my
identity," returned the anonymous amateur. "He's bound by like terms.
He does not dare give you his name and address."
"That fellow is insane or a villain," declared "Crusoe". "I do not know
who he is, but if I starve to death, he'll be a wanton murderer. My name
is Raymond Flood. I am not a college student. I am a high school
student at Kingston."
"Is his name Raymond Flood?" was Cub's next query intended for the
anonymous amateur.
"No," was the latter's reply.

"What is it?"
"Under terms of our wager, I must not reveal his name and he must not
reveal mine."
"Whew!" exclaimed Cub, addressing his two friends, who removed the
phones from their ears, the better to hear him. "Can you beat that?"
"We sure have hit a sensation of some sort," Hal declared. "What'll we
do?"
"I don't know what under the sun to do," Cub replied. "I don't like to
pass him up, for fear he may be telling the truth; and yet, I don't like to
be the victim of a joke."
"I tell you what to do," Bud suggested, without any seriousness of
intent, however. "Make a dash over the lake in your father's motor boat
and rescue this Robinson Crusoe."
"By Jiminie, Bud!" exclaimed Cub enthusiastically! "You've hit the nail
on the head. Our vacation problem is solved. That's what we'll do, all of
us. I don't care whether it's a joke or a tragedy; we'll make a voyage of
discovery over that way and see if we can't find Crusoe's island. What
say you, fellows?"
CHAPTER III
Talking It Over
What could the fellows say?
They couldn't say anything at first, so astonished