by Roy J. Snell
CHAPTER III A CLUE
After a hearty supper, Curlie brought forth his instruments and carefullywound his coil aerial.
The miner watched him for a long time in silence. Having lived inout-of-the-way places, he had learned nothing of this wonderful newinvention, the radiophone.
"You don't mean to tell me," he broke forth at last, "that you can hearfolks talk with just that outfit, no wires at all, and them fifty milesaway?"
"Yes," smiled Curlie, "five hundred miles or a thousand if you like.Almost any distance when conditions are right."
Dropping back upon his sleeping-bag the miner watched with increasinginterest. It was evident that he found the thing hard to believe and thatat the same time he did not wish to doubt the word of a boy who had nevertold him a lie.
"Joe," said Curlie, "here's something brand new. I think it's going tohelp us a lot."
He placed a small instrument on top of a metal box, then connected it bya tube to a loud-speaker. After that he tuned in on the 750 meter wavelength and spoke a few words into his transmitter. Having done this, hesettled back as if to await an answer.
Presently a loud jumble of sound, resembling nothing quite so much as aflock of crows fighting over a carcass, began coming forth from theloud-speaker.
Joe Marion's brow wrinkled. At the end of three seconds he exploded:
"Tune her up, why don't you!"
Curlie grinned, but did not move.
"No use letting it go on like that," expostulated Joe, making a move totake a hand in the business. "He might be sending something important."
"He is," said Curlie, pushing his companion back to his seat. "He'ssaying something mighty important. That's why I don't change it. I toldyou I had something new. Can't you wait to see it tried out?"
Sinking back into his place, Joe listened to the strange clack-clack insilence.
A few seconds later the sounds ceased. Quickly removing a smallinstrument and disconnecting the tube from the loud-speaker, Curlie tunedin on 350 and, a moment later, they were listening to a concert which wasbeing broadcasted somewhere on the Pacific Coast.
"Do you mean to tell me that that thing is a phonograph?" said Jennings.
"No," said Curlie, "I don't. That music comes to us over five hundredmiles of space, perhaps a thousand; Seattle, Vancouver, San Francisco, Idon't know which."
Again the miner was silent.
Removing a small disc from the instrument which had produced the strangejumble of sounds, Curlie slipped it upon a second instrument whichresembled a small phonograph.
"Now listen to this," he said to Joe, as he shut off the radiophone.
From the phonograph-like instrument there came first a grating sound,then in a somewhat metallic but very distinct tone:
"Valdez speaking. Your man is still active. Doing much damage in air.Last night interrupted an important U. S. army order. Seemed nearer.Appears to be moving toward us. Location somewhere south of Fort Yukon.Advise speed and caution. N. T. S."
"Well, now, what do you think of that!" exclaimed Joe.
"I think," said Curlie, "that we have put one over on our old friend upnorth there who persists in raising hob in the air.
"You see," he went on more soberly, "it's a very recent invention. Youslip a little affair on your sending instrument, which tears your tonesall into little bits and sends them out as so much mental mince pie. Butthis little instrument here straightens them out for the person at theother end and gives them to him just as they have been spoken. I feelsure that the man we are after does not possess one of the outfits. Thatmeans that we may speak with Valdez at any time without fear ofdetection. All that an outside party gets is a jumble of sounds.
"If we ever get separated on the trail we may speak to one another in thesame way. You have that small, reserve sending and receiving set on yoursled and I am going to give you a set of these new instruments.
"Once more," he smiled, "I want to state that it is my belief that if youkeep your little radiophone dry and tuned up, it will help you out of anydangerous position."
Had they known under what strange circumstances this belief would betried in the days to come and on this very trip, the two boys might nothave laughed quite so merrily as Curlie again threw on the radiophone andthey listened to jazz being broadcasted from Seattle.
Joe, tired out from the day's struggle over the glacier, feeling the cozywarmth of the fire, stretched himself out on his sleeping-bag and fell atonce into a drowsy slumber.
"Here," said Curlie, noting the eager manner in which Jennings listenedto the bits of music and gossip which drifted in from the air, "youlisten with this." He snapped a receiver over the miner's head. "I've gotto shut off that loud-speaker. Want to listen in and see what I cancatch."
For a time he listened on short wave lengths for his friend, theWhisperer. At last, having given that up, he tuned in on long wavelengths and at once began picking up something.
Having tuned his instrument accurately and adjusted his coil aerial, hesucceeded in listening in in a very satisfactory matter.
"Big business," he whispered to himself. "Shouldn't wonder if that was aclue."
It was indeed big business that was flashing through the air that night.It was the report of a government official, the announcement of thesecuring of sufficient evidence at Nome, Alaska, to convict a bold bandof smugglers who had been carrying valuable jewels, taken from richfamilies in Russia, into America by way of Alaska. These smugglers hadescaped detection for some time by traveling in native skin-boats acrossBehring Straits. In some way, Curlie could hardly make out how, the greatexplorer Munson had been of assistance to the government in bringingthese men to justice. Because of this service the government wasinstructing all its officials, especially wireless operators, to lendevery assistance possible to Munson in his dash to the Pole.
"Don't see how a fellow three thousand miles away can help an explorerreach the Pole," Curlie told himself, "but I suppose there must be away--"
His thoughts were cut short by an interruption to the message. Someonewith a powerful sending set had cut loose into the air with his sparker.The result was utter bedlam of the air. Not one word could be recognized.
"That's the man," Curlie breathed excitedly, "that's the fellow I'mafter! Now for his location."
His fingers moved rapidly from instrument to pencil and paper, then backto instrument again. There was a look of tense excitement on his face,such a look as comes upon the hunter as he sights a moose not a hundredyards away. Curlie was a born hunter, a hunter of the air. He had gotscent of a prey, a dangerous prey, and was at this moment hunting himdown.
"There," he breathed as the bedlam ceased, and he drew the receiver fromhis head. "I know where you are, at least. You're moving. I wonder ifwe'll meet and when. I know what I'm going to say to you when we meet.Wonder if you know what you're going to say to me!"
Having packed his instruments away, he stretched himself out before thefire to think. Events were moving on apace. It looked as if his journeywould be shorter than he had at first believed it would be. You nevercould tell, though. He thought for the hundredth time of the Whisperer;wondered who she really was and why her whisper had been missingto-night.
At last, reaching over to Joe, he shook him into wakefulness and told himto turn in. Having undressed, he slipped on a suit of pajamas, crept intohis sleeping-bag and was soon fast asleep.