The Young Wireless Operator--As a Fire Patrol | Page 2

Wireless Operator--As a Fire Patrol
Chapter I
Vacation Plans

Charley Russell sat before a table in the workshop in his father's back
yard. In front of him were the shining instruments of his wireless
outfit--his coupler, his condenser, his helix, his spark-gap, and the other
parts, practically all of which he had made with his own hands.

Ordinarily he would have looked at them fondly, but now he gave them
hardly a thought. He was waiting for his chum, Lew Heinsling, and his
mind was busy with the problem of his own future. Charley was a
senior in high school and was pondering over the question of what the
world had in store for him. While he sat meditating, Lew arrived. In his
hand was a copy of the New York Sun and Herald. He held it
out to Charley and pointed to the marine news.
"The Lycoming reaches New York to-day," he said. "Roy will
send us a wireless message to-night. Gee! I wish we had a battery
strong enough to talk back."
But Charley paid slight heed to the suggestion. Instead he said: "Roy
Mercer's a lucky dog. Think of being the wireless man on a big ocean
steamer when you're only nineteen. I wish I knew what I am going to
do after I graduate from high school."
Roy Mercer, like Charley and Lew, was a member of the Camp Brady
Wireless Patrol. With his fellows he had taken part in the capture of the
German spies who were trying to dynamite the Elk City reservoir and
so wreck a great munitions centre during the war; and with three other
members of the Wireless Patrol, especially selected for their skill in
wireless, he had later gone to New York with their leader, Captain
Hardy, to assist the government Secret Service in its search for the
secret wireless that was keeping the German Admiralty informed of the
movements of American vessels.
His fellows both envied and loved him. Roy warmly returned their
affection, and his vessel never came into port that he did not, regularly
at nine o'clock in the evening, flash out some message of greeting to his
former comrades of the Wireless Patrol. It was always a one-sided
conversation, however, because none of the boys in the Wireless Patrol
owned a battery powerful enough to carry a message from Central City
to New York. Just now each lad was engaged in trying to earn money
so that the club could buy a battery or dynamo strong enough for this
purpose. So each boy was working at any job he could pick up after
school, and saving all he earned. Both Charley and Lew had already
earned more than their share of the purchase money.

"You never can tell what will happen," said Lew presently. "Who ever
expected Roy to get the job he has? You may land in another just as
good. You stand pretty near the head of your class, and everybody
knows you're a corking good wireless operator."
"I can tell well enough what will happen, Lew. The minute I'm out of
high school, I'll have to go to work with Dad in Miller's factory. Gee!
How I hate the place! Think of working nine hours a day in such a dirty,
smoky, noisy old hole, where you can't get a breath of fresh air, or see
the sky, or hear the birds. Just to think about it is enough to make a
fellow feel blue."
"But maybe you won't have to go into the factory at all," argued Lew.
"Maybe you can find some other job you like better."
"No, I shall have to go into the factory," repeated Charley sadly. "Dad
says I've got to get to work the minute I've graduated, and earn the most
money possible. And there's no other place where I can get as much as
they pay at Miller's. Dad says I can get two-fifty a day at the start and
maybe three dollars."
Charley paused and sighed, then added, "What's three dollars a day if
you have to be penned up like an animal to earn it? I'd rather take half
as much if I could work out in the open and do something I like."
"Why don't you tell your father so?"
"I have--dozens of times. But he says it isn't a question of what I want
to do. It's a question of making the most money possible and helping
him. He says he's supported me for more than eighteen years and now I
have to help him for a year or two anyway."
"That's a shame!" cried Lew.
"No, it isn't, Lew," explained Charley. "It's all right about helping Dad.
He's been mighty good to me, and he's in the hole now. You see, Dad