The Secret Wireless | Page 3

I am sorry to dash your hopes, but I
cannot do otherwise than to tell you the truth. Of course if anything
should come of it, I will let you know promptly. Remember me to all
the other boys.
"Sincerely yours,
"JAMES HARDY."
Henry's face became longer and longer as he read. When he had
finished the letter there was more than a suspicion of moisture in his
eyes.
"Oh!" he cried, "if only I could be with Captain Hardy when he sees the
Chief of the Radio Service, I'd make the Chief understand that we can
help. We could be just as useful to the radio men as the Baker Street
Irregulars were to Sherlock Holmes. Oh! I just wish I could be with
him. I wonder when he will see the Chief."
Henry picked up the envelope and examined the postmark. "This was
mailed yesterday morning," he muttered, "and Captain Hardy said he
was going to Washington to-morrow. That's to-day. Maybe he's with
him this afternoon. Maybe he went this morning. I'm sure he knows by
this time what the result is. Oh! I wish I were with him. I'd just make
that Radio Chief take us."
As he spoke a telegraph messenger entered the yard. He caught sight of
Henry in the workshop door. "Hey!" he called. "Does Henry Harper

live here? Got a message for him."
Henry was almost too much amazed to answer. He had never received a
telegram in his life before.
"Hey!" called the messenger again. "Are you asleep?"
"No," was the answer, "and I'm Henry Harper."
"Then why didn't you say so?"
Henry ran forward and seized the yellow envelope. "Where's it from?"
he asked.
"Washington," said the messenger.
"Washington!" repeated Henry. "Washington! Then we're to go."
"If you'll sign here," said the messenger, "I'll go. I can't stand here all
day. Nothin' to pay."
Henry signed the messenger's book, then tore open the envelope and
took out the following telegram: "Want you, Roy, Lew, and Willie to
meet me Pennsylvania Station New York City Friday two P. M. for
work suggested in your letter."
CHAPTER II
HENRY OVERCOMES AN OBSTACLE
Could the messenger boy have seen Henry after the latter had read the
telegram, he would soon have changed his mind as to Henry's
sleepiness. For a very brief space--just long enough to reread the
message once or twice--Henry stood like one dazed, as motionless as a
statue, and as silent as a sign-post. Then he gave a loud whoop and
began to dance around the little shop. For a boy who was ordinarily so
sober as Henry, such conduct was scandalously riotous. He skipped
about the tiny wireless room, waving his hat in his hand, cheering for

the Camp Brady Wireless Patrol, and making loud declarations as to
what that organization would do to the enemies of the country.
Ordinarily Henry would have restrained himself. Not even the news
that the Camp Brady Patrol had been selected to perform the wireless
service at the guard headquarters the preceding summer had excited
Henry as did this message from his captain. But that was scarcely to be
wondered at. The work for the commander of the Pennsylvania guards
had promised nothing but the sending of uninteresting and wordy
despatches, though to be sure it had turned out quite differently before
it was ended. But the task now in view promised excitement from the
start. It breathed adventure, romance. To hunt spies--to trace traitors--to
turn the searchlight on hidden crimes and dark deeds--to outwit clever
men--to take a man's part in a man's world--to do deeds of daring and
bravery--and above all to serve his country and save his fellows--these
were the things that came into his mind as the probable results of the
precious communication he held in his hand.
Forgotten were the tedious hours of monotony that his sober senses
would have told him must make up the greater part of any such labor as
that he was now about to embark upon. Forgotten were the dull, deadly
dull and uninteresting days that his experience should have told him lay
before him. In his enthusiasm Henry saw only the bright spots. The
mental vision he looked upon glowed with rosy light. And Henry gave
himself up utterly to enjoyment of the prospect.
So he danced and shouted and waved his hat, and cheered for the Camp
Brady Patrol, until in his excitement he danced too close to the side of
the tiny shop. His wildly waving hat came into contact with sundry
tools and kettles and other metal implements hung up on nails to be out
of the way. Down came saws and pails and a sprinkling can, and the
hoe, and a dozen other articles in a noisy crash. It sounded as