Allen Chapman - The Radio Boys at Mountain Pass - or, The Midnight Call for Assistance

In the first chapter of this volume there appears a statement by “Bob,” one of the Radio Boys, as follows: “Marconi is one of those fellows that can never rest satisfied with what’s been done up to date.” Perhaps no more concise summary of the driving force back of the men responsible for the tremendous development of radio could be made. It is just that refusal to be satisfied with what has been accomplished that has made wireless the greatest wonder development in the history of mankind. Although the radio boys in this case are but creatures of the author’s imagination, nevertheless they are typical of all the men who have taken part in bringing radio to its present stage. Even Marconi himself likes to take pride in the assertion that he too was at one time an amateur, because he insists that during his early experiments he was only a boy amateur tinkering with a little known subject. There is undoubtedly a great deal of truth in his claim, because the experiments that led to his success were made while he was a youth studying at the Bologna University in Italy. What is true of Marconi is equally true of all the others. We have only to think of a name prominent in the field of wireless, and then trace back the history of the man who bears it, and you will come to an enthusiastic amateur. There is another fascinating thing about wireless, and it is the fact that no matter how much work one may really expend in tinkering with it, and no matter how valuable the results, it does not seem like real work. This is aptly phrased by Joe in the book who says:

“I’d like to take it up as a regular profession. Think of what it must be for fellows like Armstrong and Edison, and De Forest and Marconi. I’ll bet they don’t think it’s work.” There is no doubt that Joe wins his bet.

“Nothing to do till tomorrow!” sang out Bob Layton, as he came out of high school at Clintonia on Friday afternoon, his books slung over his shoulder, and bounded down the steps three at a time.

“And not much to do then, except just what we want to,” chimed in Joe Atwood, throwing his cap into the air and catching it deftly as it came down.

“You fellows do just love to work, don’t you?” put in Herb Fennington, with an air of self-righteousness that was belied by the merry twinkle in his eyes.

“Oh, we just dote on it,” replied Bob.

“Work is our middle name,” asserted Joe. “In fact we lie awake nights trying to conjure up something to do.”

“Regular pair of Work Hard twins – I don’t think,” declared Jimmy Plummer. “Now as for me – ”

“Yes?” said Herb, with an assumption of polite interest.

“As for me,” repeated Jimmy, not at all daunted by the incredulity in Herb’s tone, “I’ve been working like a horse all this season. A little more and I’ll be only skin and bone.”

As Jimmy was by all odds the fattest boy in school, this assertion was greeted by a roar of laughter.

“Now I know why you look like a string bean,” chuckled Joe.

“That explains why his clothes hang on him so loosely,” laughed Bob, pointing to Jimmy’s trousers which were so filled out that they resembled tights. “Jimmy, you may be an unconscious humorist, but you’re a humorist just the same.”

Jimmy glared at his tormentors and tried to look wan and haggard, but the attempt was not a pronounced success.

“All the same,” he protested, “Doc. Preston has been rushing us like the old Harry all this fall, and what with school work and home work and radio work – ”

“Radio!” interrupted Bob. “You don’t call that work, do you? Why it’s fun, the greatest fun in the world.”

“You bet it is,” chimed in Joe enthusiastically. “We never knew what real fun was until we took it up. Look at the adventures it’s brought us. If it hadn’t been for radio, we wouldn’t have won those Ferberton prizes; we wouldn’t have run down Dan Cassey and made him give back the mortgage he was trying to cheat Miss Berwick out of; and we wouldn’t have got back the money he nearly got away with when he knocked out Brandon Harvey.”

“Right you are,” agreed Bob. “And probably that boat our folks were on would have gone down with all on board if it hadn’t been for the radio message that brought help to it. And see the good it did for Larry and the experience we had in sending out from the broadcasting station in Newark!”

“I tell you, fellows, there’s nothing like radio in the universe!” agreed Jimmy.

“I’d like to take it up as a regular profession,” said Joe. “Think of what it must be for fellows like Armstrong and Edison and De Forest and Marconi. I’ll bet they don’t think it’s work. They’re eager to get at it in the morning and sorry to knock off at night. There’s no drudgery in a profession like that.”

“Speaking of Marconi,” remarked Herb, “I see that he’s just come over to America again on that yacht of his where he thought he heard signals that might have been from Mars. I wonder if he’s heard any more of them.”

“I don’t know,” replied Bob thoughtfully. “Though I’ve become so used to what seem to be almost miracles that I’m prepared for almost anything. At any rate, the only thing one can do nowadays is to keep an open mind and not say beforehand that anything is impossible. It would be great, wouldn’t it, if we could get in touch with another planet? And if we could with one, there doesn’t seem to be any reason why we couldn’t with all, that is if there’s life and intelligence on them. But after all, at present that’s only speculation. What interests me more just now is the discovery that Marconi is said to have made by which he is able to send out radio waves in one given direction.”

“I hadn’t heard of that,” remarked Joe. “I thought they spread out equally in all directions and that anybody who had a receiving set could take them.”

“So they have up to now,” replied Bob. “But Marconi’s one of those fellows that can never rest satisfied with what’s been done up to date. That’s what makes him great. I’m not exactly clear about this new idea of his, but the gist of it is that he throws a radio wave in a certain direction, much as a mirror throws a ray of light. He uses a reflector apparatus and the wave is caught at the receiving end on a horizontal metal standard. With a wave of only three and one half meters he has thrown a shaft nearly a hundred miles in just the direction he wanted it to go. The article I read said that he had some sort of semicircular reflector covered with wires that resembled a dish cut in half. When the open side is turned toward the receiving station he wants to reach, the signals are heard loud and clear. When the open part is turned away, the signals can’t be heard. The whole idea is concentration. Just what a burning glass does with the rays of the sun, his device does with the radio waves. Marconi’s a wizard, and that’s all there is about it. There’s no knowing what he may do next. But you can be sure that it’ll be something new and valuable.”

“He’s a wonder,” agreed Joe heartily. “And if he’s the ‘father of wireless,’ we’ve got to admit that he has a good healthy baby. I’m going to try to get on friendly terms with that baby.”

“We’ve already been introduced to it, if we haven’t got much further,” laughed Bob. “But say, fellows, what’s the program for tomorrow?”

“Three square meals,” was Jimmy’s suggestion.

“Sure,” agreed Herb. “Though in your run-down condition you ought to have at least six.”