The Secret Wireless | Page 3

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 though a cyclone had suddenly descended upon the little shop, or a 42-centimeter shell had burst within. The exultant chant of the lone occupant of the building suddenly ceased. But its place was instantly taken by another voice as Henry's mother suddenly appeared on the back porch of the house, looking anxiously toward the workshop.
"Henry! Henry!" came her anxious call.
"Yes, mother," replied Henry, disentangling himself from the wreckage, and thrusting his head out of the shop