CHAPTER V--A BOY WITH A MYSTERY
Tom did not take much notice of the strange conduct of the refugee. Hewas intent on learning what further the receiver would immediately tapout. Ben noted particularly the excitement of their new companion. Hisattention, too, was instantly diverted through his eagerness to catchthe message coming all strange and jumbled by wireless.
"Just as Mr. Edson told us----" he began.
"Ah!" commented Tom.
The big distended eyes of Ben Dixon devoured the instrument with itsshining coils and connections. He stood now rooted like a statue.
Finally the message ended. A queer smile crossed Tom's face.
"Well," he observed, "Mr. Edson certainly described it perfectly."
"Yes."
"And two thousand dollars this time."
"What else was the fellow trying to send?"
"It was gibberish to me. Oh, we'll have to pass it up, Ben, just as Mr.Edson said."
"Yes," assented Ben, "it's some novice or joker or crank experimenting,or trying to be smart. What's the matter?" challenged Ben, turning nowupon the boy calling himself Harry Ashley, hoping for some explanationof his queer startled actions of a few minutes previous.
But whatever the refugee had on his mind he evidently was not disposedto impart it to his questioner.
Harry Ashley had somewhat recovered his composure. He still lookeddisturbed, but he said with assumed carelessness:
"Oh, nothing. I get a pretty sharp twinge in my lame foot every once ina while."
"I see," observed Ben, drily and unbelievingly.
The boys were soon on the ground and on their way towards the village.Tom kept up a casual conversation. He did not ask the strange waif whohad drifted into their keeping any leading questions, however. Much ashe was interested in knowing more about Harry Ashley, there wassomething in the lad's manner that repelled curiosity. Furthermore, Tomdid not wish to embarrass a comrade he had invited to become his guest.
Ben was quite silent. He stole many a furtive look at Harry as theyproceeded on their way. He was half satisfied with the lame explanationof his actions the boy had made in the wireless tower. He forged ahead afew yards with Tom as they came to the road leading south towards hishome.
"I say, Tom," he remarked in a low tone, "there's some mystery aboutthat fellow."
"Well, if that's true," returned Tom, "let the future work it out. Hestrikes me as a poor unfortunate who needs some help, and I'm going togive it to him."
"That's natural," retorted Ben, "you're always helping somebody."
Tom rejoined Harry. The latter became more chatty now. He did not saymuch about himself, but from what he did impart Tom surmised that he waspractically a tramp, picking up a living at odd jobs.
"See here," said Harry, as Tom indicated the cheery lights of the oldBarnes homestead, "it won't put you in bad with your folks, will it?"
"What do you mean?"
"Lugging in a ragged stranger like me."
"My mother will answer that," replied Tom with a smile, leading the wayaround the house.
His companion halted outside the kitchen door, as Tom sang out to aportly bustling lady directing the operations of a hired girl.
"Mother, I've brought some company home to supper."
The kindly glance of the hospitable Mrs. Barnes swept the forlornrefugee, clearly reviewed in the light streaming out across thedoor-step.
"Come right in," she said, with a genial smile of welcome.
"It's Harry Ashley," explained Tom. "He may stay all night."
"You arrange where he shall sleep, then, Tom. Go into the dining room,boys. Father seems to be delayed in town, and we needn't wait for him."
Tom did not regret the kindness he was showing to his new friend. Whenhe went to bed that night he felt that he had never passed a moresatisfactory evening. He had never seen a boy enjoy a meal as HarryAshley did that supper. It was enough to warm the heart of a stone, hedecided, to witness the happy comfort of Harry, as in the cozy sittingroom he showed the stranger his books, and some of the electrical toyshe had made for his young brother Ted.
Harry looked around the airy attic with a smile of pleasure as he noteda mattress filled with clean straw in one corner, a white coverlid and apillow.
"Makes you think of home, doesn't it?" questioned Tom.
"No, it doesn't," sharply, almost rudely, snapped out Harry, and then, aslight moisture visible in his eyes, he added apologetically, "you'vetouched a sore spot, Barnes."
"I won't again," promised Tom gently.
"That's all right," replied Harry in his usual offhand way. "When youknow me better I'll explain some things. I'll dream like a prince in apalace to-night."
Tom went to his own room. His head was pretty full with all the variedand exciting events of the day. Of course wireless details predominated.He went to sleep building in fancy the station for his friend, Ben, downat his home. He woke up to the lively sound of whistling outside of thehouse. Tom went to the window and looked out.
Bright as a cricket, cheery and clean faced, Harry was surveying whathad been a jumbled-up mass of kindling the night before. He had piled itup symmetrically and had swept up the last stray sliver of wood on theground. Over towards the vegetable beds was a five-foot heap of weedswhich his industry had collected.
Suddenly the happy whistle ceased. Tom saw his father come out of thehouse, stare at the strange boy, then at the evidence of his enterprise,and smile grimly. Mr. Barnes hailed the boy.
"You're the lad my wife told me about, I reckon," observed the farmer.
"If you mean the boy she was so kind to, yes sir," promptly respondedHarry.
"Who hired you?" demanded Mr. Barnes.
"Who hired me?" repeated Harry in a puzzled way.
"Yes, to do that," and Mr. Barnes' hand swept the woodpile and the weedheap suggestively.
"Oh, that's to pay for supper and lodging," explained Harry brightly.
"Well, we'll count breakfast into the bargain," stipulated Mr. Barnes,"and if you get tired doing nothing there's five hundred weight of grainin the barn I'll pay you to grind."
"You will?" cried Harry, his eyes sparkling. "Show it to me, will you,please?"
"Good for him," commented Tom. "He's the real sort, and he's got fatheron his side all right."
Kindness, attention and the prospect of work seemed to have wrought amarvellous change in Harry. He little suggested the homeless forlornrefuge of the previous night as he sat at the breakfast table. He waslively and chatty, acting the pleasant chum with Tom, the grateful guestto motherly Mrs. Barnes, and narrating comical experiences with amateurfarmers he had worked for to Mr. Barnes, keeping the latter in rare goodhumor throughout the meal.
About an hour later Ben arrived on the scene.
"Say, Tom," was his first sprightly hail, "Father says I've been hoppingabout like a chicken with her head cut off ever since I got up--and thatwas five o'clock."
"What's the trouble, Ben?" inquired Tom with a smile, guessing.
"Fever--the wireless kind," chuckled Ben. "I've got five fellows down atthe old oak ready to give all day to helping me get the outfit in downat my house. Say, Tom, give me the key to the tower and let me get thatbox of trimmings Mr. Edson gave us, will you?"
"I shall have to go on duty at the station soon, Ben," explained Tom,"but here's the key. Get down to the oak right away, and I'll instructyou how to dismantle my unfinished plant and start you in at your house.Then at noon I'll give you another hour."
"You'd better come right up to our house for supper, Tom," suggestedBen, "and we can have two full working hours by daylight after you quitwork."
"Very well," agreed Tom gladly.
Never did a boy spend a more entrancing day than Ben Dixon. His helpersat the blasted oak were delighted to climb like monkeys to remove thespirals and wires from the old tree, and handle the queer contrivancescontained in the box Mr. Edson had donated.
Harry Ashley spent the day between working
about the farm, visiting thescene of activity at the Dixon place, and limping up to the tower.
Only some exchange test calls came to Station Z that day. Tom wasencouraged to find how quickly he could read them, and send thenecessary replies.
Nearly every lad in the neighborhood was on hand that evening, when Tomarrived at the Dixon place, and began to connect the various devices ofthe wireless outfit. It took into the next day fully to adjust thevarious parts.
Ben was in a rare fever of excitement and expectancy the second eveningabout seven o'clock, when Tom announced to him that the finishingtouches of the experiment were in process.
"She's all there, Ben," he said triumphantly, as he drew smooth thetinfoil tongues of the setts of the coherer. "I'll run down to Station Zand give you a call to see if she works all right."
Ben Dixon stood staring fixedly at the apparatus rigged up in a shedrunning up to the spirals strung to tree tops near the old barn. Sixardent watchers sat astride a bench, mouths agape and eyes bolting fromtheir heads, resembling lads awaiting the touching of a match to apowder mine.
Finally a thrill ran instantaneously from the metallic poles through thevibrating parts of the apparatus. As one after another the boys listenedat the telephone-like receiver, they heard the tell-tale dots anddashes.
"Hurrah!" shouted Ben Dixon in a frenzy of wild delight.
Boys of the Wireless; Or, A Stirring Rescue from the Deep Page 5